Hit or Error? Baseball Digest's 1990 Rookie Edition Reexamined

In our twenty-eighth installment of Hit or Error, we take a look at the March 1990 Baseball Digest rookie scouting reports, where the good news is that catcher Phil Lombardi was the only prospect mentioned in previous issues. The bad news? The list is short—just four other prospects: Julio Machado, Blaine Beatty, Darren Reed, and Lou Thoroton. With such a limited list, we’re going to dive into each one and ask the ultimate question: did Baseball Digest's scouts hit or make an error?

While Lombardi had already been in the system, the new names raised some eyebrows—if not with excitement, then certainly with curiosity. So, let’s break it down, see what went right, and where things went a bit... off-track.

Fastballs and Fatal Mistakes: Julio Machado’s Journey from Bullpen to Prison

Julio Machado, as described by Baseball Digest in 1990, had the kind of scouting report that made you think, "This guy might be the next big thing—if only he could master a second pitch." With an above-average fastball that had good movement and a demeanor that made him seem like he could pitch every day, Machado's main hurdle was his command and the need for a reliable slider. The report suggested he was on the edge of making it, but the finishing touch—the slider—was still a work in progress.

Fast forward to his actual career, and let's just say that the scouts might have missed a few of the finer details. Machado did make it to the big leagues with the Mets in 1989, debuting in a season when the Mets were desperately seeking reliable right-handed relievers. He started off in the Big Apple, but by mid-1990, he found himself back in AAA with the Tidewater Tides, saving a handful of games before the Mets brought him back. But it wasn’t long before Machado was traded to the Milwaukee Brewers in a deal that included another pitcher, Kevin Brown, for catcher Charlie O’Brien and a minor-league player. Not exactly the blockbuster trade of the decade.

In terms of his stuff, Machado had a fastball that did what it was supposed to—get hitters out. He also had a decent curveball and, when the slider wasn’t too busy being elusive, a workable one. Over three seasons in the majors, Machado posted a respectable 3.12 ERA with a 7-5 record and 151 strikeouts. Not bad, but definitely not the guy you'd hang a bullpen on.

But then things went sideways—way, way sideways. After the 1991 season, Machado returned to Venezuela, where he found himself embroiled in a tragic situation. Following a car accident, he shot and killed a woman, claiming it was in self-defense. This is where his story took a dark turn, far beyond what any scouting report could have predicted. The Brewers, presumably holding a "waiting for the other shoe to drop" attitude, assumed Machado wouldn't be back for 1992. They were right. After fleeing the scene, Machado was eventually arrested and spent months in a Caracas prison.

To make a long, ugly story short, Machado was convicted of involuntary manslaughter and sentenced to 12 years in prison. He was released in 2000, but by that point, his baseball career was as distant as a fastball in the rearview mirror of a getaway car.

So, in the case of Julio Machado, it wasn’t so much a matter of "did he deliver?" as it was "well, that escalated quickly." The scouting report was right about one thing: he had the tools. But what no one saw coming was the series of events that would make Machado's career take a permanent detour—one that no fastball or slider could fix.

The 3 C's : Control, Command, and Coaching: The Unlikely Journey of Blaine Beatty

Blaine Beatty’s scouting report in *Baseball Digest* had all the makings of a middle-relief journeyman—above-average control, three major league pitches (fastball, curve, change), and pegged for a left-handed middle-man role. The report also cautioned that he didn’t throw particularly hard and would need pinpoint control to make it. Sounds like a guy you'd stash in the bullpen, hoping that he’d find a way to get a few outs in the middle innings and maybe get a souvenir from an old-timer game if he stuck around long enough.

Let’s see how that turned out in reality.

Beatty was a first-round pick out of San Jacinto College by the Baltimore Orioles in 1984, but after a little game of hard-to-get, he didn’t sign. Three years later, the Orioles came back for a second round, this time drafting him in the ninth round out of Baylor University. He signed, and for the next 12 years, he pitched in the minors, earning a pretty solid reputation—121 wins, a 3.26 ERA, and a career that would’ve been the envy of any pitcher looking for a steady gig. In 1987, he had a season that looked like it belonged in a textbook: 11-1 record, 2.52 ERA, and named Carolina League Pitcher of the Year. That’s the kind of stuff that’ll get you traded to the Mets, which is exactly what happened. Beatty was sent to Flushing in exchange for Doug Sisk. Not exactly a blockbuster deal, but it was a trade that got the Mets another arm for the future.

When he finally made it to the bigs with the Mets in 1989, he did exactly what you’d expect from a middle reliever with decent control but no overwhelming heat—he wasn’t going to blow batters away, but he could keep them off balance. Over two seasons with the Mets (1989-1991), Beatty pitched a total of 15.2 innings across 7 appearances, posting a tidy 2.30 ERA. For a guy with no fireball, that’s respectable—his ERA+ was 161, which is pretty darn good for a short-relief role. In fact, it looked like the scouts might have been onto something. Unfortunately, injury kept him out of action in 1990, and by 1991, he was back in the minors, struggling to carve out a lasting role.

Despite his brief stint with the Mets, Beatty did get a second career after hanging up his cleats—coaching. He turned his attention to helping other pitchers avoid the same pitfalls of injuries and bad luck. He coached in the Pirates and Mets systems for several years and was even a pitching coach in the Orioles system. His bilingual skills also came in handy, helping Latin players adjust to life in the States—a nice little twist on the usual coaching journey.

And as for the big leagues? Beatty’s major league career didn’t have a storybook ending, but it had a few solid chapters. After leaving the Mets, he hung it up as a player after 1997, but he’d leave his mark as a coach for years to come. So while he didn’t exactly become the lefty bullpen ace we hoped for, Blaine Beatty carved out a decent career with what he had—control, smarts, and a willingness to help others get better. Not too shabby for a guy who was never going to throw gas, but could still get the job done.

Lou Thornton: Warning Track Power and a First-Class MetroCard

Back in the late '80s, if you blinked, you might’ve missed Lou Thornton’s Mets career—but if you were looking fast, that would’ve been fitting. Because Lou could run. He could also throw, field, slide, chew gum, and probably order a Tim Hortons double-double in under six seconds. But the big question in his scouting report? “Can he hit?” The answer turned out to be, “Well… sometimes. Kinda. Not really. But he sure looked good trying.”

Lou was the baseball version of a Swiss Army knife—he had all the tools. Just not necessarily the instructions.

Coming up, scouts said he did everything “pretty well.” And to be fair, they weren’t lying. He had a good arm, solid wheels, and he could patrol the outfield like a kid chasing down the Mr. Softee truck. The only issue? Hitting. That thing hitters do.

Still, he had what scouts called “warning track power.” And let’s be honest—if they handed out medals for warning track shots, Lou would've needed a much bigger trophy case.

After starting his career in the Mets system, Thornton made his major league debut with the Blue Jays in 1985. His stat line that year: 56 games, 75 plate appearances, 17 hits, 1 home run, and 24 strikeouts. It’s like he was trying to strike a balance between optimism and optical illusions.

He bounced between Toronto and Triple-A Syracuse for a few years before coming back to the Mets in 1989—sort of a homecoming for the guy drafted by New York in the first place. And for 13 glorious games that season, Lou gave Mets fans a taste of what might’ve been. He hit .308. He slugged .385. He even had two stolen bases and didn’t get caught once. Lou Thornton, for a hot second, looked like the spark plug every team dreams about.

Then, poof.

By 1990, he’d played three more games in a Mets uniform—and that was it for his big-league career. Ninety-five total MLB games over five seasons. More often than not, he was a pinch-runner, a late-inning glove, or a human blur streaking down the basepath before the outfield could react.

But here’s the thing: Lou Thornton played baseball for a living. For a decade. That’s more than most people can say. And in the minors? He had over 3,100 plate appearances, 737 hits, 158 stolen bases, and enough frequent flyer miles to get to Jupiter. If this game gave out gold watches for grinding it out in Buffalo and Tidewater, Lou would’ve needed a jewelry box.

His Mets tenure was short, but for us fans who remember his brief Queens cameo, Lou remains part of that eternal Flushing family photo. He may not have hit many balls out of the park—but he sure gave it a good ride. Just like the rest of us Mets fans.

Darren Reed – Spring Training MVP, Regular Season MEH

The March 1990 Baseball Digest scouting report gave us hope: "Strong, accurate arm; shows good power at times; has had great springs offensively but disappointing during the season." Translation: If baseball only lasted from February to mid-March and was played exclusively in Florida against guys wearing jersey numbers in the 80s, Darren Reed was your guy.

Let’s start with the positives: Darren Reed looked like a ballplayer. He swung like a ballplayer. And in spring training, he hit like a ballplayer. But once the calendar flipped to April and the fastballs got faster, Reed’s bat went mysteriously silent—kind of like a karaoke mic after you’ve had three beers and were finally ready to sing "Sweet Caroline."

Reed debuted with the 1990 Mets, a team that was still kind of trying to pretend it wasn’t about to start the long, slow descent into early-'90s mediocrity. In 26 games that year, he hit .205—but he packed some pop: 4 doubles, a triple, and a homer in just 39 at-bats. That's an .436 slugging percentage, which in 1990 was basically Barry Bonds with a smaller head.

After a two-year hiatus from the bigs (presumably spent punishing minor league pitching and waiting for spring training to come back around), Reed returned in 1992, this time with the Expos and later the Twins. He hit a combined .175 that year and added five homers, but struck out 34 times in 125 plate appearances—which is the kind of math that makes a hitting coach reach for the Maalox.

Yeah, Darren Reed hit just .183 in the majors—but six home runs in 153 at-bats? That’s one every 25.5 ABs. Respectable pop for a guy who wasn’t built like a beer keg on cleats. (Looking at you, Daniel Vogelbach.) And give the man some bonus points—he tossed a shutout inning on the mound in the minors. That’s versatility! Or at least desperation. Either way, it’s fun.

In the minors, Reed was a totally different animal—.281 average over 791 games, 90 home runs, 381 RBI. He also did a stint with Leones de Yucatán in the Mexican League in 1994, which basically qualifies him for a Baseball World Tour T-shirt.

So yeah, Darren Reed may not have become the everyday right fielder the Mets hoped for when he was clubbing homers off journeymen in Port St. Lucie, but the man got there. He wore the uniform. He hit one out at Shea. He got a Topps rookie card. And if baseball gave out rings for dominating spring training, Darren Reed would have as many as Bill Belichick—and probably smile just as often.

So what do we make of this motley crew of 1990 Mets prospects? Well, if Baseball Digest was swinging for the fences, they ended up with a couple of foul balls, a ground-rule double, and one guy who accidentally threw his bat into the stands. But that’s the beauty of baseball—and prospects. For every can't-miss phenom who never learns to lay off the slider, there's a Blaine Beatty, grinding his way into a coaching career, or a Darren Reed, swatting spring training bombs like it’s his birthright. They may not have become household names, but they wore the uniform, lived the dream, and left their own quirky footprints in Mets lore. And let’s be honest: isn’t that kind of what being a Mets fan is all about? Hoping for the next big thing, savoring the small victories, and remembering the prospects who made us believe—if only for a spring.