The day after the Colorado Rockies drafted Russell Wilson, his father died. Jay Matthews, the Rockies scout who spent five years coveting Wilson and was sure he would one day play in the major leagues, happened to be driving through Wilson's hometown of Richmond, Va., and called his cell phone.

Wilson told him the bad news. Diabetes had taken Harrison Wilson III, 55, a man Matthews knew couldn't have been any prouder. His son played football at North Carolina State and was about to play baseball for the Rockies and maybe, just maybe, was the evolutionary answer to Deion Sanders and Bo Jackson and Brian Jordan: not just a football player who thrived at baseball but a quarterback who thrived in both sports. Matthews reflexively asked if there was anything he could do.

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"You can throw me some batting practice," Wilson said.

So around 10 p.m., about 24 hours after he said good-bye to his father, Russell Wilson ripped baseballs at a local batting cage with his brother, Harrison IV, and Matthews.

The world now knows Wilson as the dynamic quarterback of the Seattle Seahawks, the lone rookie signal-caller remaining in an NFL postseason primed to be his, much as every endeavor he undertakes. While the baseball career Wilson left behind is a footnote to his burgeoning legend, it merits more than that, not because Wilson was a superstar waiting to happen but because of how all the characteristics that define him as a quarterback manifested themselves on the diamond, too.

[MLB springboards: No. 27 Rockies]

The Rockies took a flyer on Wilson, like the Orioles had done after his senior year in high school with a 41st-round pick in 2007. Wilson played baseball at N.C. State for three seasons, though his raw tools never bloomed. Still, Matthews and Danny Montgomery, the Rockies assistant scouting director, were insistent: Even if Wilson might end up in the NFL, take him anyway. What football scouts saw as an unconquerable flaw – he stands 5-feet-10 and change, which makes him a suitable quarterback only in Lilliput – mattered not for a future second baseman. Colorado chose him in the fourth round in 2010, with the 140th overall pick, not much lower than he went two years later in the NFL draft (third and 75th).

Matthews returned to Richmond for Harrison Wilson III's funeral five days later along with Montgomery. Wilson, then 21, delivered the eulogy.

"He was so eloquent," Matthews said. "You know how you can tell a leader? He has poise in difficult times. He had a black suit on with a purple tie. When he was eulogizing his father, he said I'm going to sign with the Rockies and play baseball this summer."

Less than a week later, before he flew to Denver to work out with Rockies brass and sign his contract, Wilson called Matthews, who happened to be driving to Zebulon, N.C., to see the Class A Carolina Mudcats. Wilson asked him to stop in Raleigh. If he was going to play second base, a position he never tried, he wanted a few tips from Matthews, a former infielder. Wilson dared not embarrass himself in front of his new bosses.

Problem was, Matthews had only 20 minutes. So Wilson improvised and asked him to meet at his apartment. Matthews parked in a street-level garage. Wilson showed up with a ball and a glove.

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