STREATOR, Ill. — Days before the Yankees signed C. C. Sabathia to a $161 million deal, one of the Arizona Diamondbacks’ most promising minor league pitchers rose before dawn at his house on the outskirts of this central Illinois town.

An overnight storm had coated the roads in ice, and the thermometer read 8 degrees. It was the perfect morning to sleep in, but not for Clay Zavada, who steered his Nissan Sentra toward town — past frozen cornstalks, an abandoned farmhouse and the red lights of windmills blinking in the distance. A dilapidated motel and a series of fast-food restaurants indicated his arrival in Streator.

Zavada could not afford to be late. This was the only time the high school gym would be empty, and his old coach — the assistant principal — would have time to catch for him.

“If you don’t get it done early and get it out of the way, it’s kind of hard to get it done,” Zavada said, slamming a two-seam fastball toward the gloved hand of Nick McGurk. “You’ve got to get in here and get it done.”

Once the sun came up, Zavada knew there would be other demands on his time. His uncle might call him to work at the family sawmill. A cousin in the construction business often needs a hand. And Zavada has a long list of chores waiting for him on the 40-acre property his father left him and his brother — logs to be split and sold for firewood, a go-kart awaiting refurbishing and posting on eBay, or the thick bushes choking a grove of walnut trees that need clearing. For that task of protecting the trees, the federal government sends him a small yearly subsidy.

Despite an impressive 0.51 earned run average and a 3-1 record last season as a reliever for the Class A South Bend Silver Hawks, Zavada, 24, must work outside of baseball to pay his bills. Last season, he earned $280 a week — before taxes — from the Silver Hawks. His income is typical of the roughly 4,500 minor league players, about 10 percent of whom will play in even one major league game.

“Not all of these guys are getting million-dollar bonuses,” said A. J. Hinch, the director of player development for the Diamondbacks. “I don’t know that everybody is quite aware of what these guys go through in order to give themselves a chance to make it.”

Zavada had never been a hotly pursued prospect until now. His work last season, which included allowing six hits in 35 innings, earned him a coveted spot on the Diamondbacks’ 40-man roster. In spring training, he will have the chance to compete for one of the 25 spots on the major league roster.

Zavada had considered playing N.C.A.A. Division I baseball, but big-time college recruiters do not stop here. After playing at Illinois Valley Community College, he transferred in his junior year to Southern Illinois University Edwardsville, which competes in Division II. In 2006, the Diamondbacks drafted him in the 30th round, paying him a $1,000 signing bonus that after taxes, barely paid the deposit on his apartment in Missoula, Mont., where he played on a summer rookie team.

That December, Zavada’s father, Clarence, a quality-control manager for a nuclear plant, died of a heart attack. Zavada’s mother, Linda, had died when he was 3; his older brother, Dustin, was serving in the Navy. Suddenly, Zavada found himself responsible for looking after his family’s property, a mix of farmland and forest that was his father’s pride and joy.

“That’s when the wheels kind of came off the track,” Zavada said. “He was my life. My brother and him, that’s all we were. The three of us.”

Zavada failed to report to spring training in 2007 and lost touch with the Diamondbacks, who dropped his contract later in the summer.

“I was just sitting around, trying to figure things out,” he said.

That fall, Zavada decided to honor his father’s wishes by completing his bachelor’s degree at Edwardsville. He also took a part-time job delivering furniture.

“I was pretty much done with baseball,” he said.

Last spring, he graduated with a degree in business. At the prodding of a friend, he decided to celebrate by trying out for an independent team, the Southern Illinois Miners.

“I hadn’t picked up a ball in over a year,” he said.

After a few practice games that were “absolutely awful,” Zavada said, he eventually picked up momentum.

“From that point on, it was like, boom,” said Zavada, who is 6 feet 1 inch and 195 pounds. “I didn’t have a negative thought in my mind.”

Zavada’s performance caught the attention of the Diamondbacks, and in June, they re-signed him to a one-year contract. He was assigned to the Silver Hawks.

“He opened some eyes — one, being left-handed, and two, he had a good arsenal,” Hinch said. “But he didn’t come in with a lot of accolades. He’s had to earn every bit” of the attention he is starting to get.

Zavada does not argue the point.

“I’ve been a low-percentage shot for baseball my whole life,” he said.

Last Monday, Zavada’s sneakers squeaked down the aisles of the Kroger supermarket as he hunted for breakfast. He grabbed a box of store-brand raisin bran cereal — at $1.89, it was $2 less than the name brands nearby.

“As far as food is concerned, I don’t buy anything that’s not on sale, or not cheap,” he said.

A few aisles away, he tucked a pack of chicken thighs under his arm. “Almost five pounds of it for $3,” he marveled.

As much as baseball is Zavada’s dream, it is also a paycheck. Being on the 40-man roster will quadruple his salary, at the very least. If he is selected for the major league team, he will earn the rookie minimum, $400,000.

“It’s good that I play baseball and I actually have a job that I know I can go to in about two months,” he said. “Some people can’t. Some people around here, they’re barely getting by.”

Once a bustling town of coal mines and bottle factories, Streator is now home to about 14,000 people, many of whom drive long distances to work at power plants. The nearest interstate is 13 miles away, and there is not even a Wal-Mart, although Zavada said many residents welcomed plans to build one because it might bring jobs.

The only cinema — a renovated movie palace called the Majestic — charges $5.25 a ticket. The theater’s owner addressed members of the audience before a recent screening of “The Day the Earth Stood Still,” pleading with them to come back soon and to invite relatives and friends.

“I’m going to try to keep it open through the end of the year,” he told the crowd.

The temperature was still in the single digits by the time Zavada returned home from the grocery store about 9 a.m. In the kitchen, he poured a bowl of raisin bran and turned up the volume on his kitchen radio. “Swap Shop,” a live classified advertising show broadcast every morning on a local AM station, was about to start.

“This is the home run derby of Streator,” Zavada said, slurping his cereal as Gunner, his Labrador retriever, waited hopefully at his feet. “This is what you live for.”

On this morning, the items for sale or trade included a pair of turquoise bracelets, a 2-year-old cocker spaniel, an Xbox video system “only used once,” an extra-large Green Bay Packers jacket with tags attached and a 1994 Honda Civic. One woman called in looking for beeswax. Another wanted to alert her neighbors that two dogs — “a shepherd and a hunting dog” — seemed to have gotten loose at the end of her block.

Not long ago, Zavada said, he got an “awesome deal” on a 1996 Honda Rebel motorcycle that he bought from “Swap Shop.” He fixed it up and sold it on eBay, making a $900 profit.

“If you can find a deal, you can definitely make a mint,” he said.

Like many of his neighbors, Zavada’s livelihood relies on a mix of odd jobs and an entrepreneurial spirit. He is a regular at the Streator pawn shop, searching for underappreciated treasures that can be sold online. During the harvest, he drove a truck for a farmer who had shattered his ankle after falling off a grain bin.

His pitching is equally versatile. Zavada takes pride in his best pitch, a changeup, and said that for now, baseball was his priority. But it is clear that he also takes pleasure in other tasks, like clearing brush behind his house, or slicing an old telephone pole into smooth, straight boards at his uncle’s sawmill. Using his pitching hand to line up the blades of an industrial saw may make the Diamondbacks’ management cringe, but Zavada says he will not give it up.

“You got to do what you got to do,” he said. “It’s how I grew up, you know. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

Last Sunday, Zavada spotted an opossum that had been wandering around his property for days. He grabbed his grandfather’s shotgun over the fireplace and raced outside. Later, as Gunner trotted toward the house with the carcass in his mouth, Zavada ordered the dog to drop it. With any luck, he explained, this animal may attract another.

Raccoon pelts are selling for $25 apiece.

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Source: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/21/sports/baseball/21pitcher.html?_r=2