Hit or Error? Baseball Digest's 1995 Rookie Edition Reexamined

Welcome to the 33rd installment of Hit or Error, our deep dive into the scouting pages of Baseball Digest, where we sift through past prospect hype to uncover what was real and what was wishful thinking.

This time, we turn to the March 1995 issue—and once again, the Mets' presence was modest, with only four players making the list. Among them were the first member of Generation K to be mentioned, Bill Pulsipher, another pitcher, Chris Roberts, infielder Edgardo Alfonzo, and outfielder Ricky Otero. While other organizations showcased deep pipelines of blue-chip talent, the Mets' representation was sparse. We'll focus on the two who went on to have substantial major league careers: Bill Pulsipher and Edgardo Alfonzo.

So dust off the old scouting reports, and let's find out: did Baseball Digest make a hit, or commit an error?

The Pulse of Generation K: Bill Pulsipher’s Mets Moment

This is the 33rd edition of Hit or Error, and without a doubt, we’ve stumbled upon what has to be the shortest—and possibly most wildly optimistic—scouting report in baseball history. It read: “Could be front line starter at ML level.” That’s it. Just one sentence, barely enough for a fortune cookie. But in those eight words lived the entire dream of Bill Pulsipher—and of a Mets fan base that hadn’t had much to cheer about since a certain little roller went through Buckner’s legs.

Bill Pulsipher wasn’t just a prospect; he was a promise. The Mets hadn’t exactly been churning out lefty phenoms since, well, ever. So when this thick-built southpaw with a bulldog stare started mowing down hitters in the low minors, it was hard not to daydream. Born in Fort Benning, Georgia, in 1973, Pulsipher bounced around as an Army brat before settling in Virginia. He lit up radar guns and high school box scores at Fairfax High, and though he had a full ride waiting at Old Dominion, the Mets nabbed him in the second round of the ’91 draft and handed him a pen.

From the jump, he looked like the real deal. In the early ’90s, he moved up the minor league ladder with all the grace of a bulldozer: 2.84 ERA in ’92, sub-2.10 in multiple stops in ’93, and more punchouts than a Rock ’Em Sock ’Em Robot. By 1994, he was the ace of Double-A Binghamton, where he tossed a no-hitter and made hitters look like they were swinging underwater. He was 20 years old and already being anointed as the second coming of Jon Matlack.

He made his Mets debut in June of ’95, and for a moment, it really felt like the Mets had struck gold. That was the year “Generation K” became a thing—Pulsipher, Paul Wilson, and Jason Isringhausen were supposed to be the homegrown holy trinity that would lead us back to October glory. Unfortunately, what we got instead was more like “Generation Ice Pack.”

Pulsipher’s elbow started barking late in ’95, and by spring of ’96 it was full-on howling. Torn ligament. Tommy John surgery. And just like that, the train derailed before it even left the station. He missed all of ’96, then came back wild and inconsistent. In ’97, his control vanished like a hot dog at a ballpark doubleheader—he walked 38 guys in less than 28 innings, which isn’t easy unless you're blindfolded.

Then came the off-field struggles. Depression hit. Hard. Pulsipher later admitted he had no idea what was wrong at the time. He was moody, anxious, in a fog. Doctors gave him Prozac, which helped a bit, and he made it back to the Mets in ’98, only to get shipped to Milwaukee faster than you can say “Bullpen cart.” The injuries piled up: back surgery, shoulder woes, and more disabled list stints than a hospital receptionist. He bounced from team to team—Boston, Arizona, Baltimore, even a couple cups of coffee with the Yankees (yes, that happened, though it feels sacrilegious to mention).

At one point in 2000, things got so scary that his pregnant wife found him unconscious—passed out from taking an over-the-counter ephedra supplement that was later pulled from the market after Orioles pitcher Steve Bechler tragically died from it. Pulsipher’s career, and health, were unraveling.

But here’s where the story gets good again—because baseball doesn’t always give you a fairytale, but sometimes it gives you a sequel. In 2004, Pulsipher, well past his big-league expiration date (or so we thought), resurfaced with the Long Island Ducks, throwing gas and leading them to their first league title. That gritty performance earned him another big-league shot with the Cardinals in 2005, thanks to a little nudge from his old pal Isringhausen. For a few weeks in spring training, it looked like the magic might be back—but then came the hamstring. And then the waiver wire. And just like that, the sequel had its final chapter.

But Pulsipher never really left the game. He barnstormed through Mexico, Puerto Rico, and a dozen indie leagues, even served as a player-coach in the Golden Baseball League, teaching the next generation how to grip a two-seamer and hang on to a dream.

These days, he’s giving private lessons out in Long Island, working with young pitchers the way a grizzled Jedi teaches a new crop of Skywalkers. He may not have become the ace we were promised back in that minimalist scouting report, but he gave everything he had to this game—and then some. Bad luck, injuries, and inner demons may have hijacked the first draft of his story, but the man never stopped grinding. And in this Mets fan’s book, that counts for something.

So, was Baseball Digest’s bite-sized blurb on Bill Pulsipher a hit or an error? Call it a bloop single that fell between the shortstop and left fielder. They weren’t wrong—Pulsipher did reach the bigs and showed flashes of the poise and pitchability that had Mets fans penciling him into Opening Day rotations for years to come. But the arm didn’t hold up, the command wavered, and like so many pitchers with promise, he became more of a “what could’ve been” than a “remember when.” Still, Pulsipher never stopped grinding, reinventing himself more times than a veteran middle reliever with a six-pack of rosin bags. He might not have been the ace of the Generation K staff, but he’s forever a chapter in Mets lore—equal parts heart, hype, and hard knocks.

The Fonz Hits the Mark: Baseball Digest’s Scout Was Right on Alfonzo

Back in March 1995, a scouting report on Edgardo Alfonzo read like a note jotted down on the back of a napkin at a diner: “Could play 2B or 3B at ML level; hits for average and power.” That’s it. No fireworks, no sweeping predictions—just a polite nod to his potential.

Fast forward a few years, and “Fonzie” was the steady heartbeat of those late ‘90s Mets squads that had us all dreaming playoff dreams. By 1999 and 2000, Edgardo Alfonzo was no longer the quiet kid on the block. He was the versatile, reliable guy who made the Mets infield look like a finely tuned Swiss watch. The New York Times once called him “a versatile and dependable player whose combination of a robust batting average, solid power, and flawless defense could make him the premier second baseman in the major leagues.” And that wasn’t just Mets boosterism talking — he was genuinely in the conversation with the best of them.

Remember, this is the same Edgardo who was mentioned alongside Derek Jeter in 2000, with whispers floating that Cooperstown might be their final destination. Yeah, the Hall of Fame — not the Mets’ clubhouse after a long rain delay. Going into 2001, Fonzie was just 27, with plenty of good years ahead, or so we thought. Then life, and injuries, stepped in. His big-league prime faded, but his love for the game? Never did. He chased the ball through the minors, independent leagues, Mexico, Japan, and even back home in Venezuela until 2013. And the Mets, ever grateful, welcomed him back in the dugout as a coach and manager, passing on that rare blend of talent and heart.

What makes Edgardo’s story even richer is where he came from: Santa Teresa del Tuy, Venezuela — a place so small that “going to school, playing ball, and nothing else” pretty much summed up your whole world. Baseball was family business. His oldest brother played pro ball and became a minor-league coach. Another brother scouted. Cousins and nephews chased the same dream.

Edgardo was lucky enough to have a baseball mentor at home in his brother Edgar, who practically handed him the keys to the game.

Signed by the Mets for a modest $10,000 in 1991, Alfonzo didn’t exactly burst onto the scene overnight. He spent four steady seasons climbing the minor-league ladder before breaking into the majors, where he quickly showed he wasn’t just another glove with a bat. He was smart, he was gritty, and he had that rare knack for showing up when it counted most — the clutch gene, as Bobby Valentine called it, “He just hits.”

In his peak years, Fonzie hit for average, sprinkled in power, and dazzled with defense. His 1999 season? A career-high 27 homers and 108 RBIs, batting .304 with a slugging percentage north of .500. That August 30th game in Houston, where he went 6-for-6 with three homers, wasn’t just a highlight reel; it was a statement. And he wasn’t just a hitter. When the Mets needed a leader, a guy to steady the ship in October, Fonzie was that man.

The Mets’ infield, anchored by Alfonzo, was so good defensively in 1999 that it made Tom Verducci call them “The Best Infield Ever?” on Sports Illustrated’s cover. That’s a heck of a compliment, considering the names they were up against.

So, yeah, that terse scouting note from ’95 undersold the man. “Could play 2B or 3B” was right, sure, but it didn’t capture the whole story — the scrappy kid from Venezuela who became a Mets legend in his own quiet, relentless way. Edgardo Alfonzo didn’t just hit for average and power. He hit for Mets history.

So, was Baseball Digest’s scouting report on Edgardo Alfonzo a hit or an error? Consider it a clean single that found a steady groove up the middle. They saw the skill, the clutch ability, and the quiet leadership—and Alfonzo delivered all that and more. He wasn’t always the flashiest star, but he was the Mets’ reliable backbone through some of their toughest years. A consistent performer, a steady presence, and a fan favorite, Edgardo embodied the spirit of resilience and grit that Mets fans cherish. In the end, his legacy isn’t just in the stats, but in the heart he brought every time he stepped on the field.

Looking back at the March 1995 Baseball Digest scouting report, the Mets may not have had a long list of top prospects, but the players they did have made their mark. Bill Pulsipher showed flashes of talent but was held back by injuries and setbacks. Edgardo Alfonzo quietly became a key part of the Mets’ lineup for years, delivering consistent performance and leadership. Neither became a superstar, but both left their mark on the team in different ways. Baseball Digest didn’t get everything right, but they did identify players who made a real impact—and that’s what matters most.