No Quit in Whit: Merrifield’s Journey Had Its Share of Speed Bumps En Route To An All-Star Selection
By Alec Lewis 1h ago
Bill Merrifield vividly remembers that night in 2015 that nearly led to his son’s breaking point. He and his wife, Kissy, were streaming the Triple-A Omaha Stormchasers game inside their Advance, N.C., home. Their son, Whit, was playing in the game, while their other son, Hite, was asleep upstairs.
The parents had watched most of Whit’s minor-league games, and they were closely tuned in to this one, although it was late in the Eastern time zone.
Whit likes to play every pitch of every inning of every game — the word “competitor” might not even do the dude justice — so that night, Billy and Kissy looked at each other dumbfounded when a late inning began and they did not see their son run onto the field.
“We’re like, ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait,’” Bill says.
What was going on? Pitches were thrown and a half-inning passed with no announcement as to why Whit was taken out of the game. You can imagine how the parents of a then-26-year-old son who was playing in his sixth season in the minors — making $10,000 a year for some of them — were feeling.
“The announcer goes, ‘Well, it looks like this may be Whit Merrifield’s day because he’s getting hugs and high-fives in the dugout,” Bill says. “But the announcer said, ‘We don’t know (if it’s official).’”
Then the commentators said Whit had grabbed his equipment and was heading to the locker room.
“We’re like, well shit,” Bill says. “We’re smart enough to figure that out.”
It was late on this night, but Bill and Kissy had promised Whit they would be at his first Major League game. The Royals were playing a doubleheader the following day. The Merrifields began scrambling.
There was a problem, though. Kissy had lost her wallet days before, including her driver’s license, and her passport had expired. Bill wondered how in the world his family would be able to get on the flight. He doubted they would. Driving was the only option.
Bill ran upstairs, grabbed a gym bag and woke up Hite.
“Grab your pillow,” Bill told Hite. “We’re going to Kansas City.”
The family hopped in the car, but Bill was hesitant because he still had no confirmation about the call-up. The two had even talked after the game ended, and Whit was still not sure what was going on. With the sky now dark, Bill had a decision.
“Screw it,” said Bill. They headed west.
Two exits away from home, Whit called again. Bill and Kissy didn’t even let Whit speak first.
“We said, ‘We’re on the way, we’re on the road, we’ll see you in Kansas City!’” Bill says. “He goes, ‘Turn around. They stopped me as I was walking out. They decided to take somebody else.’”
Bill could hear the heartbreak in his son’s voice. The sport Whit so dearly loved had spurned him once again.
Bill tells the story because he can do so now with a smile, not a cringe. He tells it because it was a key moment (among many) that motivated a player who has since become one of the American League’s best hitters and base stealers.
And now a player who will represent the Kansas City Royals as a first-time All-Star.
That night in 2015 was a speed bump for Whit (and his family). Thing is, there have been more speed bumps than most All-Stars have had. But to Merrifield’s credit, like with most in life, those speed bumps have often led to rewards of accomplishment and pride.
The MLB All-Star game selection is a major reward, especially after he was not selected in 2018 amid a season in which he led the AL in hits and stolen bases.
After Royals manager Ned Yost told Merrifield the news, Merrifield called his parents — which he does every single day, Bill says. Both Bill and Kissy were at home last Sunday afternoon, having just watched Merrifield’s game in Toronto.
“He’s usually not very talkative,” Bill says. “But he was chatting, and we talked for 10 or 15 minutes. We were winding it up, and he goes, ‘Oh, by the way, I made the All-Star team.’ We were pretty elated and screamed a little bit. It was really, really cool. But it was typical Whit. Just kinda matter of fact.”
After telling his parents, Whit texted his college coach, current South Carolina athletic director Ray Tanner. He also called his grandfather, Bill Sr., who at 89 years old had waited for a call like that since his own son’s playing days.
“It’s a huge milestone,” Whit said. “Looking back where I was four years ago in 2015 and just the barriers I had to keep breaking down to get to where we are now, it’s huge. It’s a huge accomplishment for myself and for those that stood by my side in 2015, like my family.”
The younger Bill, an assistant athletic director at Wake Forest University, remembers back to the time he coached an 11-year-old Whit on a team called the “Davie Bojangles” (a local fast-food sponsor that served Cajun chicken filet biscuits).
Whit knew the game, but Bill would not start him. He did not think his son was physically ready to make an impact, even though they worked in the cages daily. The move added fuel to Whit’s increasing fire.
Bill could not be prouder of what that fire has now sparked.
“This changes his life,” Bill says. “This changes his baseball life. He’s now, forever, going to be an All-Star. He’s one of the best players in the world. For a father and a mother to sit back and go, ‘This is a kid that four years ago nobody gave a shot,’ it’s nuts.”
Nuts, indeed.
He again leads the AL in hits (116) and is among the league leaders in total bases (187). Since the start of 2017, only Rockies outfielder Charlie Blackmon has more hits across MLB than Merrifield. And keep in mind Merrifield plays for a struggling team. He’s not part of a loaded lineup that serves to protect each hitter and turns over five or six times. Also, with the team already out of the AL Central race, these current games don’t mean much. The competitor in Merrifield, after so many of these losses, has driven home pissed off. And every day, he returns, motivated to contribute to a win.
Even more, Whit has continued to be versatile in his All-Star campaign. He began the season as a second baseman after having refined his skills; he had grown comfortable there after having played outfield at South Carolina. Then, when the Royals recalled Nicky Lopez, Merrifield was moved back to the outfield. He has since even played a game at first base.
Through it all, he has performed to the high expectations he has set for himself and has done so in a pitcher’s park. He has flashed his speed and increasing power.
The constant has been his own ability to respond when it’s needed most.
Maybe competitiveness passes through genes. Maybe it’s inherent for every individual. Regardless, Bill finishes telling that story about that night in 2015 and drifts toward the rest of that season.
After the would-be call-up, the Royals’ ninth-round pick in 2010 struggled. Whit slashed .265/.317/.681, his lowest numbers since 2013. After that season, the Royals left him unprotected in the Rule 5 Draft. He even contemplated quitting the sport he loved.
“I thought about retiring that offseason,” Merrifield said publicly in an interview with pitcher Trevor Bauer.
Of all the people Whit could talk to about his situation — the breaking point — Bill was maybe the best. Bill himself had been there so many years ago. Broken. Beaten down by the game.
Bill grew up playing three hours away from Wake Forest University. His dad, Bill Sr., drove him to Little League games, where he worked with good coaches. Bill Sr. played catch when his son wanted to play catch. Bill Sr. had played sandlot baseball growing up but went to work in the mines back in Illinois as a young kid because that’s what he had to do. He never went to college. He never had the opportunity to carry his success in the sport further.
In college, as Bill Jr. was becoming a two-time All-American at Wake Forest at third and first base, his dad would drive three hours for every game. The father relished his son’s success.
“Whit’s dad could just flat mash,” Tanner said.
Bill played three years at Wake Forest and met his wife, Kissy, who played tennis there. As she and Bill grew closer, Bill’s MLB aspirations grew bigger.
In 1983, the California Angels drafted him in the second round.
Bill played four years in the minors as a corner infielder, playing everywhere from Peoria, Ill., to Edmonton. In 1987, the Angels traded him to the Pittsburgh Pirates. He played three games at Triple-A Vancouver after the trade, then the Pirates called him up.
After barely sleeping that night he got the word, Bill Jr. hopped on a plane and flew to Seattle. Then to Texas. Then to Atlanta. Then to Pittsburgh. At long last, he arrived at the airport and called a cab. The kicker: He had all Canadian money. So when he arrived at Three Rivers Stadium, a new teammate he had never met had to pay for the taxi.
A clubhouse attendant told Bill he was to be on the field for individual batting practice in front of coaches 15 minutes after he had arrived. So, Bill dressed quickly and walked out onto the diamond. Pirates manager Jim Leyland and general manager Syd Thrift stood over Bill as he took cuts for about 15 minutes.
“Leyland goes, ‘Hit and run. Fly ball to right field. Move ‘em over,’” Bill recalls. “You don’t understand how hard it is to swing that many times. It’s exhausting. I’ve been up the whole day. I’m nervous. I don’t know any of these people. They don’t know me. I don’t even know where the ball is going.”
Bill finished hitting, then fielded grounders at third base with Bobby Bonilla. Meanwhile, rain began to fall. Coaches called the players off the field. The grounds crew pulled out the tarp. Bill returned to the clubhouse and introduced himself to players like Barry Bonds, Andy Van Slyke and others. Another clubhouse attendant walked up during that time and told Bill he would be starting at first base that night against the Atlanta Braves. The attendant offered to grab Bill whatever he needed, including black and yellow-themed accessories.
About 45 minutes later, the clubhouse attendant walked over and said Leyland wanted to see Bill in his office. Bill expected to go over signs or a plan of attack against the opposing pitcher on that Friday night. He walked inside the office, and Leyland, who was sitting at his desk, said, “Bill, we want you to report to our instructional league in Bradenton, Fla.”
It was September. Bill was thinking, OK, he’d go down there in October, work with some rookies and learn the Pirate way.
“Alright, I’ll do that,” Bill said to Leyland. “When you do want me to report?”
“Monday,” Leyland responded.
Bill stood in the doorway and asked, “This Monday?”
“Yep,” Leyland said.
The room was quiet. Bill walked out of the office, back toward his locker, where his stuff had already been packed. In a 45-minute window, he went from starting in the big leagues to the instructional league. That night, he watched the Pirates game from his hotel.
The following year, the Pirates traded Bill to the Texas Rangers, who assigned him to Triple-A Oklahoma City. Bill played 90 games but broke a foot sliding. He faced a decision at that point. Did he want to continue playing the game he had become disenchanted with, or did he want to start a family?
Bill chose the latter — Whit is the oldest, born in 1989, followed by daughter Costner (1992) and Hite (2000) — and has not questioned the decision once. He’s not bitter about that day in Pittsburgh. He’s not down about not getting to live the life Whit has. Instead, he has focused that energy into being there for his son, just like his dad was for him.
And that discussion with Whit after the 2015 season was critical. Father and son sat together in their house and spoke man to man.
“I said, ‘Look, I’m all for you quitting because I walked away from it on my terms, and it was probably the best decision I’ve ever made,’” Bill says. “I said, ‘I’ll support you if that’s what you want to do — go back to school, get your degree. But if you’re not 100 percent good with that, you cannot take your cleats off and walk away because you can never put them on again. Baseball is going to go on without you. It ain’t gonna stop when Whit quits playing. It didn’t stop when Bill quit playing.’”
Whit realized then he was not ready to take his cleats off for the final time. He wanted to give the sport he truly loved another shot. He wanted to do everything in his power to force the Royals’ hand, like gain 20 pounds of muscle and produce more backspin in his swing by releasing the bat with his top hand to provide a greater extension.
So just like they did when Whit was 11, Bill and Whit headed to the cages together. Often that winter, they practiced late at night at Wake Forest’s facility (along with Hite, who is now a freshman there). Bill tossed baseballs. Whit crushed them again and again. Bill observed the swings from in front of his son and suggested changes.
“We worked long and hard,” Bill says. “The changes weren’t natural for him, but they came naturally. And he accepted that’s what he wanted to do and kinda had to do. I don’t want to take credit for it, but we were there every night with his little brother.”
The cage work paid off, as did strength workouts with Torque Performance and Fitness coach Adam Barber. Whit put on weight thanks to intense weightlifting workouts and a diet with more eggs and poultry.
And in 2016, at long last, the Royals called up Whit. He got a base hit in his first game and slashed .283/.323/.715 in 81 games total. In 2017, at age 27, Whit improved across the board, slashing .288/.324/.784 in 145 games. Last year, he improved yet again, slashing .304/.367/.805 in 158 games.
Noise about a possible trade surrounded the Royals at winter meetings. But the organization stuck with the man who had overcome even their oversight. They signed him to a four-year, $16.25 million extension in January.
And what has he done since? Yep, he has improved even more.
After the MLB Commissioner’s Office added Merrifield to the All-Star roster, Yost said he did not think folks give Merrifield the level of recognition they should. A reporter asked what would constitute that level of recognition.
“Um, it’s just the way they perform,” Yost said. “Whit’s got more total bases than Mike Trout (the two are now tied). How many times do you hear Whit’s name with Mike Trout? Have you ever heard Whit’s name with Mike Trout? No. So that’s what I’m talking about. He’s with the elite players in Major League Baseball. But he never gets mentioned. He never gets recognized. That’s the (lack of) recognition I’m talking about.”
After Bill wraps up his story about Whit’s near-breaking point, he arrives at this same topic of conversation. This has been such a long year that it’s easy to forget Whit breaking Royals legend George Brett’s consecutive-game hit streak (31) on a bunt back on April 10.
It’s one thing to go back to that moment, but it’s another to think about what kind of reaction that streak would have had had it been done in New York or Boston or Los Angeles. That’s not at all a knock on Kansas City, a place both Bill and Whit have said has been great to their family.
The palpable reaction is simply an interesting thought.
On a similar plane, Whit spoke after his selection about what it was like to watch teammate and Royals third baseman Hunter Dozier go unselected. Whit referenced his missing out on the game last year.
“To go on a little bit of a tangent, it’s very odd in our game how players get valued when you look at a player’s numbers versus another player’s numbers,” Whit said. “It’s the only sport where the playing field isn’t level. You look at a field like ours that we play at. Then you look at other fields where other teams and guys get to play, and you see the numbers they put up and the balls they’re hitting. I’m not taking away from what some of these guys are doing, but you put Dozier or (Jorge) Soler or Mondi (Adalberto Mondesi) or any of these guys on numerous other fields throughout the course of the league, and their numbers would be a little inflated. It’s just a weird dynamic with baseball, but it’s part of the game.”
In a similar sense, the false call-up in 2015 is part of the business. Moments like those shape a lot of big leaguers’ careers. But the fact that the 2015 Royals team won the World Series does make things sting a bit more.
Decisions made over a span of about 20 minutes may have kept Whit from winning a ring (or contributing nonetheless).
Bill knows winning that ring is his son’s pinnacle speed bump. He knows because he hears what Whit still says about his championship-winning season at South Carolina under Tanner: That season remains one of Whit’s best baseball memories, if not the favorite.
But for now, after not being selected in 2018, the ’19 MLB All-Star selection will assuredly suffice. Whit will enjoy the week with his family, which expects to be on hand in Cleveland.
After all they’ve been through, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
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