Will Smith’s introduction to the major leagues was unorthodox, yet formative.
The Dodgers brought the then-23-year-old to Busch Stadium in St. Louis in the middle of September 2018 when Smith was considered one of the premier catching prospects in baseball. With the club mired in the present, sitting in second place during a contentious division race, the Dodgers introduced a part of their future. Smith had a locker. He traveled with the team and ate with them. When fellow catchers Yasmani Grandal and Austin Barnes would meet with coach Danny Lehmann and the rest of the club’s game-planning operation, Smith was there too.
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Only Smith wasn’t technically part of the team. The club hadn’t called him up or even put their 2016 first-round pick on the 40-man roster. He didn’t collect big-league pay or service time. His mere presence around the club required Major League Baseball’s approval.
“There’s only so much we can do in the development path,” recalled Dodgers president of baseball operations Andrew Friedman, who hatched the plan. “As much as we could introduce things with no pressure and ease him into taking on more and more was something we tried to set up because we knew how much upside he had. … It just kind of lined up at that moment in time.”
For Smith, the lessons were subtle. More than learning about how the Dodgers would go about attacking the likes of Matt Carpenter or Harrison Bader, he learned how to navigate. He saw each pendulum swing over September, where a close race meant each day could bring with it an emotional tide shift and add even more stress to a tense environment. He could feel the pressures of strapping on the gear every day in those circumstances without actually being under such pressure.
“Getting a feel for it,” Smith recalled. “Just feeling comfortable around guys. It’s being exposed to big leaguers. You’re around it in spring training and stuff, but that’s their day, each and every day I was there.”
“(It was about) understanding the expectations and then growing into the role and understanding what he had to do personally for it,” said Lehmann, who has since been promoted to be the Dodgers’ bench coach. “Looking back on it, it was really smart. It was good to have him around.”
The young backstop didn’t announce his presence. If anything, he made it hard to tell there was anything out of the ordinary.
“He was everywhere but you also never noticed he was there,” Max Muncy said. “For someone to be able to do that is pretty impressive. He took in so much.”
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When he did speak, Muncy said, the questions he asked spoke volumes. His ability to blend into the background emphasized what Smith has always done well, and what has defined the now-regular presence in the heart of the Dodgers lineup and behind the plate.
Smith is steady to the point of almost bland. The 28-year-old keeps things efficient and direct, as short as his swing that carries so much thump. As he navigates the room, hours before a game, a scouting report is usually not far behind. Asked to break down a late-inning sequence after a game, he’ll provide a play-by-play as bare bones as possible. Earlier this season, manager Dave Roberts called him almost “vanilla” in the level of personality he injects into interviews and day-to-day interactions.
But Smith is always there. Always prepared. Always consistent. Always producing.
It’s what makes Smith as invaluable as anyone in the Dodgers lineup, as the club learned in going 6-7 during Smith’s recent 13-game absence due to a concussion. It’s his presence in the middle of their order, with a 1.057 OPS through 99 plate appearances, that made losing a hitter of Trea Turner’s quality this winter easier to swallow (though their lack of a shortstop is a different story). Since his debut in 2019, no catcher in baseball has been better offensively than Smith, who has been 31 percent better than a league-average hitter by OPS+.
And Smith’s steady excellence is what has made him one of the preeminent catchers in the sport.
A superstar.
“For us, he’s been a superstar,” Freddie Freeman said. “In our opinion, he’s the best catcher in the game.”
“Will’s kind of been there in that upper echelon, top tier of catchers,” Clayton Kershaw said. “I think he has all the skills and the athleticism — he’s like (Phillies star catcher J.T.) Realmuto to me.”
Zeke Pinkham was just a 19-year-old freshman when he found himself among excellence. He’d been recruited to Louisville, well aware of the track record, with the program making a super regional the year before and advancing all the way to Omaha for the College World Series each of the two preceding seasons. The locker room at Jim Patterson Stadium featured seven players who have since reached the major leagues, including multiple first-round picks.
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None stood out more to Pinkham than his fellow catcher, a junior who had come to the position late and who was about to break onto the draft scene. His name was Will Smith.
“Will’s presence was felt by everybody,” recalled Pinkham, now a volunteer assistant coach at Georgia Tech. “When Will walked in a room, or Will would do anything, you knew he was in charge. Just his presence. Only a few people have that persona about them. … Whenever he would speak up, you would listen, just because of the things he would do on a daily basis and the example he would present.”
It’s the type of credibility Smith garnered early, even before his offensive profile shot up during his final year in school. It’s how Smith arrived on campus to a team that had just made it to Omaha and returned a pair of senior catchers, yet still managed to appear in 27 games behind the plate as a true freshman who had hardly caught in high school.
“There was just no entitlement,” Louisville coach Dan McDonnell said by phone last month. “Will Smith was prepared for the path.”
That involved learning the craft behind the plate with a willingness and humility that McDonnell joked he wished he could bottle up and disperse to all freshmen who entered his program. Smith had come to full-time catching late after spending time as an infielder and pitcher in his time in high school at Kentucky Country Day.
His quiet demeanor hid the level of competitiveness that has helped to fuel his rise. Pinkham marveled at the weight the stocky, 5-foot-10 Smith could throw around in the weight room. Years later, as the two teammates reconnected one offseason, they went to a shooting range and the younger Pinkham watched in awe as Smith nailed three consecutive bullseyes to open the night.
“I’d never seen that before,” Pinkham said. “Just an example of how good he is at everything and how freaking competitive the guy is. … Will is locked in like that, 24/7. It’s just his personality. He just shows up at all times, ready to go.”
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Smith’s short, compact swing has translated to the golf course, where he’s burnished a reputation as one of the longest drivers perhaps in the majors — as an early-season round the Dodgers played last season with Fred Couples demonstrated.
“One of the more talented golfers I’ve ever played with,” McDonnell recalled. “You’re hitting your driver 250 (yards) and he walks up there, just drops his ball in the tee box. No tee, just has an iron in his hand and his ball proceeds to blow past your ball. … He’s very competitive, but I love it because it’s kind of like a poker face.”
(Smith, for the record, called McDonnell “very fiery” on the course, in contrast.)
“I’ve always just wanted to win,” Smith said.
He’s won plenty since, enough that the Dodgers plucked him in the back end of the first round in 2016, enamored by Smith’s athleticism behind the plate and the unique power they felt he might be able to tap into.
They quickly sent Smith to work under hitting coach Robert Van Scoyoc, whose work alongside the likes of Craig Wallenbrock in the private hitting sphere had helped fuel the success stories of stars such as J.D. Martinez. Van Scoyoc had been hired by the Dodgers as a consultant and almost immediately produced another career reinvention in turning light-hitting utility man Chris Taylor into a player who’d eventually make an All-Star team and sign a $60 million contract in free agency.
At the same time, Van Scoyoc was working with a squat yet unusually athletic catcher in Smith, who was trying to generate more power out of a compact, repeatable swing. The concepts, in principle, were simple, aimed at turning the hard contact he was already producing into tangible power and results. It’s the type of overarching philosophy that has taken over the sport and reaped benefits for the likes of Martinez and Taylor and Justin Turner.
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Despite his success in college, Smith listened intently.
“He was able to kind of step away and understand that this is going to be good for my long-term development, even if right now it’s not the most comfortable or I don’t get the most instant results,” said Van Scoyoc, who was hired as the Dodgers’ hitting coach in 2019 after a brief stint as a hitting strategist in Arizona. “He was able to kind of step away and look at it from 30,000 feet.”
“He’s an absolute animal,” said Connor McGuiness, the Dodgers’ assistant pitching coach who worked alongside Smith at the Arizona Fall League in 2017. “He’s just kind of one of those brains, you point him in the right direction and get him to go.”
Smith went from slugging four homers in his first taste of pro ball to 11 the following year, with a significant jump in his offensive profile. The following year, he hit 20. The next, he was a big leaguer, breaking through for a Dodgers club that won 106 games. A year later, he was a star for the World Series champions. He’s made strides every year since. Last year, it was cutting down strikeouts, becoming one of just 23 hitters last year with 550 or more plate appearances to strike out fewer than 100 times while thriving in the middle of baseball’s best lineup.
“The growth mindset is through the roof,” McGuiness said. “I still think he’s not even at the peak of what he’ll get to. It’ll be scary, how good this guy can be.”
The Dodgers experienced quite a bit of change this winter. They let Justin Turner, a franchise stalwart, walk. Trea Turner, the club’s star shortstop, became the second $300 million man to leave the club in as many seasons. Cody Bellinger, who along with Corey Seager, Julio Urías and Walker Buehler formed the first of what has been several waves of elite young talent, was non-tendered just three years after winning the NL MVP award.
A year after winning 111 games, this is a different kind of ballclub, even if it’s still a very talented one. With it, the dynamics of the clubhouse have changed. Voices that were important in that room are no longer there. As Roberts sorted through names this spring who could and have since taken on more than a role, he didn’t hesitate to include his steady catcher.
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“I feel like I am (a leader),” Smith said. “I think it’s all of the above. It’s being a consistent player. Performing well obviously helps, but just being a consistent clubhouse guy every day. Not getting too high, not getting too low. Showing you’re willing to help any and everybody. Being there for whoever needs it. Picking guys up when they need it. Making sure guys are in line. Not forcing anything, but that’s leadership. Making sure everyone’s under one goal.
“It’s good to have several guys who can do that in several different ways.”
No one would confuse Smith with being verbose. But at 28 years old, with the production he’s put up, he’s established himself all the same.
“I think your game speaks for you sometimes,” Muncy said.
“(He) kind of has this consistency in everything that he does,” Kershaw said. “I think that’s kind of a mark of a guy. Guys that have success kind of do the same things over and over again, in my opinion, and he does a good job of that.”
“Nothing,” Freeman said, “is going to faze that man.”
It’s that steadiness that defines him and says more about him than any colorful quote would. Smith’s education in the big leagues hammered home what has always been his strength: his ability to navigate, to sense what is needed in each moment.
Right now, he’s the superstar the Dodgers need.
(Top photo of Will Smith: Kirby Lee / USA Today)
