The Future sobbed like a baby on Aug.21, 2000, his 21st birthday. He was a minor league third baseman playing for the Kane County (Ill.) Cougars with a life stuck in neutral. Washington had already spent four years in the Florida Marlins system and had flashed more tools than Bob Vila. Scouts raved about his speed and power and said he had the organization's strongest throwing arm. The Marlins had taken Washington with the 306th overall pick in the 1997 draft, and had seen him sprout from a 6'1", 170-pounder into a hulking power hitter. But those 55 pounds couldn't help him touch a curveball, and now Washington was hitting .205. The grind of 12-hour bus rides had worn him down, and he couldn't help but envy his former roommate in rookie ball, Javon Walker, who left the minors to star at Florida State as a wideout.
When Washington stared at himself in his bathroom mirror on that August morning, he didn't like what he saw. He hadn't just disappointed himself, he had let down his grandmother. Frances Washington, a home nurse who had taught him the importance of hard work and the power of religion, would not have liked the defeated man staring back from the mirror. Washington has never known his father and never wants to know him. Everything he ever needed, his grandmother took care of. She raised him and Kelley's mother and brother in Stephens City, Va., a town of 1,100, in the tiny house where she grew up, where the Klan burned a cross on her yard when she was 5.
Frances had died a year earlier, but there, in that bathroom, Kelley believes she spoke to him. She told him it was time to go, time to start over. With two weeks left in the season, Washington threw his belongings in his Geo Tracker and left Geneva, Ill., without telling a soul.