NOTRE DAME, Ind. — After digging in the left-handed batter’s box, a teenage Cavan Biggio stared over his shoulder at a familiar face.
Roger Clemens gazed back with his trademarked, surly, uber-competitive look any wannabe baseball player would recognize. But Cavan had a unique relationship with the 354-game winner, who was a teammate of his father, Craig Biggio, with the Houston Astros.
Clemens, by any measure, is one of the best right-handed pitchers of all time. But given that it was only batting practice for an elite travel team, and Rocket had an L-screen in front of him, Cavan, now a star second baseman at Notre Dame, didn’t expect to see Clemens’ best stuff.
Until he saw a nasty off-speed pitch head his way.
“He’s not that fun to hit batting practice off of, honestly. He’s not like my dad where he kind of throws it in there nice and straight. He’s got some run on it. Sometimes he’ll throw the split finger.”
Clemens wasn’t going to make it easy for Cavan. He would have to earn it. In fact, Cavan wasn’t given much of anything throughout his baseball development.
His pedigree came with perks, of course, which included access for him and older brother Conor to the Astros clubhouse, the opportunity to study the game with major leaguers and up-close exposure as to how the game’s best prepare.
“Cavan and Conor had the opportunity to see [them] prepare for a baseball game, and watching them get themselves ready physically and mentally to go compete in a baseball game,” Craig told B/R.
“I think for Cavan and Conor, having the opportunity to be in the clubhouse, be around big league guys, it definitely helped them. It definitely helped them a lot. I think that if you asked my kids, they will tell you the big league guys, they were like their friends.”
But the name on the back of Cavan’s jersey made it harder for him than other prospects. He became a target. The tamest just wanted a shot at beating Craig Biggio’s son.
Others lobbed lofty expectations on the Fighting Irish second baseman. The worst of them heckled Cavan, insinuating that all he has earned—a college scholarship and high praise from MLB scouts heading into June’s draft—was only because of his last name.
He plays the same position as his father. He leads off for Notre Dame as his father did throughout his career with the Astros. He has some of the same goals his dad once had as a hungry, up-and-coming major league talent.
Cavan’s mission, though, has also been to prove he is a different player from his father. And to prove his love of baseball wasn’t something he just inherited.
It’s innate.
“I kind of realized, who cares what people think? I’m not my dad,” Cavan said. “My dad is an incredible baseball player, and if I’m going to be just as good … I’m not going to be anything like the player he was because we’re two different players.”
Along with Conor, a four-year player at Notre Dame, Cavan developed a game when he was a youngster to work on fielding.
The two brothers would stand on opposite sides of a batting cage they had at home, one that pulled out to some 20 feet long. One brother would hit off a tee at the other as hard as he could.
The object: Field balls as cleanly as possible. Whoever got the most out of 20, while committing the fewest errors, would win.
Cavan was so competitive and hooked on baseball that he would play the game anywhere he could. The two brothers even took over the batting cage at Minute Maid Park.
Conor said when they played the game at the Astros’ home field, there was a soft area at the end of the home team’s cage where they could dive around. The bright lights of an MLB stadium made it even more competitive.
This game, without a name, was one of the many quirks in their development that the Biggio boys were tasked with inventing.
“So I guess I could take credit for his Gold Glove,” Conor said of the award his brother won last season, acknowledging him as college baseball’s best-fielding second baseman.
Conor was joking. Cavan doesn’t when he credits his older brother with his development. That far predates their two seasons together at Notre Dame.
Amid his professional baseball career, Craig would make every attempt to attend his sons’ games. Some weekends, he would pull the doubleheader—watch the first five innings of a son’s game, then head to the park to prepare for his own.
The boys would shower and join him later, in time to watch the “Killer B’s,” which included Craig, Derek Bell and Jeff Bagwell—who hit 1-2-3 in the Houston order.
They would often act as de facto “clubbies”—shagging balls in the home batting cage for players readying for a pinch-hit appearance. After games, they would clean cleats.
As much of a help as they were to the players, Cavan acknowledges the incredible influence it had on his success.
Practically speaking, though, it was difficult for Craig to maintain a constant presence in the baseball development of his young sons. The logistics of a professional baseball career were too difficult to juggle with his sons’ games.
Most of the time, they outright conflicted.
For Cavan, having Conor at his side was critical. Conor, two years his elder, was the trailblazer—facing the bloodline expectations first and helping him adapt.
“Conor set the path for me,” Cavan said. “Obviously we pretty much played the same sport growing up and played on the same teams, and we both ended up being teammates at Notre Dame.
“He’s been a huge help and a huge leader in my life when my dad wasn’t around to be that father in the household.”
On a college visit to the University of Virginia, Cavan fell in love with the facilities. He liked the coaches and players he met. The program is a perennial contender for the national championship.
But something was missing.
“Conor is such a great older brother and such a great leader in his own way that having an opportunity to see how Conor went through things for his first two years being here [at Notre Dame helped Cavan],” Craig said. “The two things is being an athlete and also being a student-athlete. They go hand and hand; you’ve got to do both sides of it. So I think it absolutely helped him out a lot.”
It seems like the Irish land every son of a professional athlete.
Hall of Fame basketball player David Robinson’s son, Corey, is a wide receiver on the football team and student body president. Jerian Grant, son of former NBA player Harvey Grant, starred for the Notre Dame basketball team—leading it to the 2015 Elite Eight as a senior.
Torii Hunter Jr., son of the soon-to-be Hall of Fame center fielder of the same name, is part of that contingent. Hunter Jr. plays wide receiver on the Irish football team and outfield for the baseball team.
He has given Cavan a sounding board anytime the pressures of succeeding their fathers invaded college life.
The two often take a lighthearted approach to discussing the pressures. Both will joke about how, unlike many athletes, they don’t care about what number they wear—provided it isn’t the one their respective dad wore.
“That was the thing that brought us closer together,” Hunter Jr. said. “We had those commonalities.
“People have certain expectations just because of your last name. You just learn to shake those expectations and play the game you know how to play and just not let it affect you.”
Cavan met yet another legacy prospect while playing in the Cape Cod Baseball League—a wood bat league featuring the country’s best college talent. There, he was teammates with Preston Palmeiro, son of Rafael Palmeiro—a 20-year MLB veteran with 569 career home runs.
In August 2005, Rafael was suspended by MLB after testing positive for steroids. He vehemently denied knowingly doing so. According to ESPN.com, Rafael told an arbitration panel the positive test resulted from a tainted B-12 shot, given to him by Miguel Tejada—who was implicated in the Mitchell Report.
“He’s a great player, even better person,” Cavan said of Preston. “He’s gone through the downsides of [the son of] a major league baseball player just because of … what his dad has been accused of. It’s kind of taken a toll on him but he’s handled it so maturely and I think it’s very impressive for him to kind of brush it off.”
Writing his own chapter would take more than off-field counsel from other sons of professional athletes, though.
Cavan still needed to prove he had the skill set of baseball’s elite. Notre Dame and the ACC, the country’s best baseball conference, provided the stage.
But with the Irish, Cavan would fail for the first time in his career.
Cavan grabs a cross, hanging around his neck, out from under his shirt when he talks about his freshman season.
His struggles, in part, were the result of dealing with the death of a close family friend. Cavan found out about it during a doubleheader in which he recalls failing to get a hit.
The adjustment to elite pitching and off-field tragedy caused Cavan to struggle as a freshman. He leaned on Adam Pavkovich, then a coach at Notre Dame who now serves as an assistant at Georgia State.
“When things happen outside of the field out of our control, it affects anybody, but especially him being so young early in his college career,” Pavkovich said. “You just be there, continue to build him up, talk to him and tell him it’s an escape when you finally get to go to the baseball field.”
In 43 games his freshman year, Cavan hit .246/.329/.353.
But it proved to be the best learning experience of his career. Though Cavan hit only .258 his sophomore year, he had an OBP of .406, showing scouts he had great plate discipline.
“Baseball is a game of failure, and when you haven’t really experienced it that much, I don’t think you’re ready for the professional level,” Cavan said. “College level is a great way to figure yourself out as a person and as a baseball player. It kind of hit me hard my freshman year when I was failing a lot when I hadn’t before my whole life. But I think it’s helped me mature as a baseball player and as a person.”
This season, Cavan leads off for the Irish and was hitting .311/.473/.474 with a team-high 43 runs scored and 28 RBI, which ranked second on the team through Tuesday. Though there is no official college stat that tracks pitches seen per at-bat, Notre Dame head coach Mik Aoki surmises he is among the nation’s best at seeing pitches.
His game is indicative of a player exposed to baseball at a high level. The little things come easy to Cavan—knowing when to run on a pitch in the dirt, situational hitting or his positioning in the field.
“His identity is wrapped up in being a baseball player, and I certainly think he wants to carve his own path and be known for the things he has been able to accomplish rather than the things his dad was able to accomplish,” Aoki said.
“He sees the game at a really, really high level.”
In a breakout year for the Irish star, comparisons to his father have lessened. His play stands on its own. But like many college stars on the precipice of a pro career, Cavan is drawing parallels to other MLB stars.
“He reminds me a lot of Jeff Bagwell, in a way. If you walk him, you walk him,” Craig said. “If he gets a chance to hit, he hits. That’s the way he goes about his business.
“My maturity level, how was I at 20 years old, 21 years old? I was nowhere near half as close as what Cavan is right now. He is so wise and mature on the baseball field and a student of the game.”
Cavan is proud of his father and his name. But it finally appears he is first recognized for his own play, not Craig’s.
Scouts from several MLB organizations have flocked to South Bend to watch Cavan, but it’s too early to say what round that may be. As a junior, Cavan will be eligible to be picked in this year’s draft.
“The name can only take you so far,” Cavan said. “It’s going to catch people’s eye. But at the end of the day, if you can play, you can play.”
There are no longer questions about his talent. He will always be honored to be a Biggio, but it’s time for him to make a name for himself as Cavan—last name excluded.
Seth Gruen is a national baseball columnist for Bleacher Report. Talk baseball with Seth by following him on Twitter and liking his Facebook page.
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