There I was, a scrawny, 11-year-old shortstop, stepping up to the plate against what looked to be a skyscraper on the pitching rubber.
He was colossal. He was unreal. He was Osaar Rasshan.
It was during those Little League days that I realized Rasshan was going to be something special. If he kept developing what was already filthy stuff, the sky was the limit.
A batter was fortunate to even get the bat on the ball. Few could even swing at the right time. His intimidation factor alone would leave coaches scratching their heads. I remember feeling cheated having to lead off against him, wishing I could have had the chance to take a look from the on-deck circle. When he was not blowing pitch after pitch past opposing batters, he was launching home runs past the fence in center field. He dominated every aspect of the game. I was sure that baseball was going to be his calling.
While at Garey High School in Pomona, Calif., Rasshan was a three-sport athlete, excelling in baseball, basketball and football.
On the diamond, he roamed the outfield and still ruled the pitcher’s mound. His pitching repertoire included, among other things, a blistering fastball that lit the radar gun in the mid 90s.
On the court, he averaged a double-double while playing forward. During my junior year in high school, my history teacher was the head basketball coach over at Garey. At the time, my own school’s basketball team had a chance to make some noise, so the teacher liked to spend some time praising his own team, even though he was teaching at my school. One of the things he enjoyed talking about was Rasshan’s ability to be the leader on the floor.
Rasshan carried that same leadership onto the gridiron, where he combined his great arm strength and his elusive speed to become an efficient dual-threat quarterback.
So when the UCLA coaching staff decided to convert Rasshan into a receiver this past summer, I knew full well that he was capable of overcoming the obstacles that come with a position switch because of his potential to play any sport. But as I was watching Rasshan warm up on the sideline at the Arizona game, it struck me: He was meant to be the signal caller. He deserved every one of those snaps.
When he finally stepped onto the playing field, I saw that same aura he had in our Little League days. As he weaved through Wildcat defenders, I saw that same athletic freak that starred at Garey. Although he could not overcome the deficit he had inherited, Rasshan did enough to give his teammates a boost. That’s what leaders do, and that’s exactly what my history teacher went on and on about.
His current situation on the depth chart only makes me wonder what could have been. What if he chose to stick with baseball? I guess we will never know. What we do know is that Rasshan still has the opportunity to be something remarkable.
And up to this point, I have no reason to think otherwise.
E-mail Angulo at bangulo@media.ucla.edu.