THE GREATEST IS YET TO COME

THE SUNLIGHT IS JUST BEGIN-ning to fade on the Mexican League diamond in San Juan, Puerto Rico, when 19-year-old Miguel deJesus captures magic in the shadows of left held. His team up one run in the final inning with the hases loaded, one out, Miguel breaks instantly for the hall Billy Sagmoen rips down the line in left.

Sagmoen has been on a tear during his romp through the Mexican League, where major-league prospects hone their skills and try to impress scouts during the offseason. This appears to be another run hatted in, a game-winner, as the white orb streaks to a comer 325 feet away.

But Miguel lopes ballet-like after the vanishing Hall, his 6-foot-5 frame taking long but unhurried strides toward the left held corner, Miguel, in fact, is laughing as he runs. The children running alongside the small wire fence can see his Shaq-esque grin. The ball is disappearing over the wall-but Miguel leaps, snares it, and crashes to the ground! Then, as startled fans scream–“es im-po-seeb-lay!”-he hurls the ball toward home plate, throwing from his knees, the hall arriving just ahead of the sliding haserunner who tagged at third.

Could Joe DiMaggio have done it? Willie Mays? It’s the kind of play scouts here have come to expect from this olive-skinned wunderkind, Miguel “The Spirit” deJesus. He is the Rangers’ next superstar and, if we are lucky, the salvation of the game.

Miguel deJesus is impossibly gifted, a mustachioed prince swinging a 49-ounce sword as he thrashes home runs without effort. He hits the opposite way, can hunt, steal bases, throws to the cut-off man, slides head-first, slides feet-first, has a 53-inch vertical leap (better than Michael Jordan’s), runs the 40-yard dash in 3.98 seconds, bench presses 620 pounds, has great, soft hands (he plays concert piano back home in San Pedro de Macoris, Dominican Republic), catches anything that’s anywhere near him, runs out pop flies, and has been known to cure small children 0f the flu by laying his hand upon their foreheads.

But the most refreshing thing about Miguel, in light of the greed and selfishness throttling baseball, is his attitude. To speak to Miguel deJesus is to pass through a portal leading one back to the Babe, DiMaggio, Jackie Robinson, and Sandy Koufax.

Last year Miguel (guided by his mother, Rosita, who serves as his agent) signed the most unusual contract in baseball history. A dumbfounded Tom Grieve, in one of his last acts as Rangers general manager, agreed to pay Miguel just $50,000 a year over the next 10 years-and donate $750,000 a year to children’s hospitals around the world.

“Too much money is had for the soul,” Rosita deJesus told The New York Times. “A man can eat only one meal at a time. He can live in only one house at a time. Miguel’s heart belongs to the game, not to the balance sheets.”

And now he speaks.

“My English not so good,” Miguel says, smiling. Lord, he’s handsome. “But if you will allow, 1 try to make an opening statement.”

“We allow,” 1 say, speaking for the pack of reporters.

“1 just want to say that today, Miguel deJesus consider himself the luckiest man on face of the earth.”

Miguel, when do you expect to be called up to the Rangers-as soon as the strike is over?

“It would he an honor just to sit in same room with Will Clark, Juan Gonzalez, and Kenny Rogers. I will help them give 110 percent each game at beautiful, new taxpayer-funded Baseball Park in Arlington.”

Yes, but didn’t you hit a 503-foot homer off of Kenny Rogers when he came down for rehab last year?

For a moment, Miguel looks confused. Then comes the trademark (patent pending) smile. “Even Miguel gets lucky.”

We all laugh. There are so many more questions, but Miguel has work to do. The sunlight is almost gone now as he steps into the cage for extra hatting practice. (“Twenty-five years in this game, and I’ve never seen anyone with his work ethic,” says manager Tony Perez, the former Reds star.)

Miguel will bring with him to The Ballpark his childlike affection for the game, his hard work, the joy he takes in stealing a hase, making the play. He is a testament to the greatness of spirit that sports can bring out in all those who play or watch. He is, quite literally, too good to be true. And he’s coming. Just wait till next year, or the year after, or …