The sun only recently had poked its head out, the beginning of a glorious fall day in Phoenix, and outfielder Anthony Gose already was at work, stepping into a batting cage at Phoenix Municipal Stadium one morning last week.

"It's a publicity stunt," Ralph Dickenson said a little after 8:15 a.m. "The only reason he's here this early is he knew reporters would be here."

He was joking, of course, Dickenson, a hitting coach in the Toronto Blue Jays organization, was teasing Gose, one of the Blue Jays' top prospects. The two were brought together for six weeks by the Arizona Fall League, which, despite being in its 20th year of existence, remains one of the better-kept secrets in town.

For Gose the day began with breakfast in the clubhouse - he said he takes most of his meals there, making the most of the $13-a-day clubhouse dues - and followed a similar path into late afternoon.

The league, with games Oct. 4-Nov. 19, is known throughout baseball for temporarily housing the next wave of stars.

On the mound this day was a pitcher with pure stuff as good as nearly anyone in the majors, and the two lineups - Gose's Phoenix Desert Dogs were facing the Mesa Solar Sox - featured at least four position players who might become everyday players in the big leagues.

Those opinions depend, of course, on whom you poll among the throng of scouts sitting in the stands.

No self-doubt

Gose, who shares a Scottsdale apartment with a teammate during the fall league, is a typical star prospect here who knows the importance of performing in front of so many talent evaluators.

Organizations annually send a pack of their better prospects here, and since its inception in 1992 the fall league has produced 1,900 major-leaguers, including nine MVPs, three Cy Young winners and 169 All-Stars.

Gose, 21, believes he will one day be among them. His combination of tools and athleticism make him one of baseball's more-intriguing prospects, even if he has yet to put it all together on a stat sheet. But what he might still lack in polish he more than makes up for in confidence.

"I'm going to be a star," he says.

Gose, who talks fast and talks a lot, says this in a way one would share plans for the evening. In a sport known for its buttoned-down humility, his mouth sometimes can get him in trouble, rubbing teammates the wrong way.

In a game this fall, he fielded a base hit, looked up to see a runner rounding third and announced, "Got his ass!" before firing home. And he would have, he says - Gose hit 97 mph off the mound in high school - if the catcher had held onto the throw.

"That's my biggest problem," Gose said. "I don't know how to shut up."

But Gose works while he talks. He was one of the earlier players to arrive, pulling up about 10 minutes before 8 a.m. He ate an omelet - the first of three meals he'd have at the park - before heading out for early work.

In a batting cage beyond the right-field fence, he and two other hitters alternated taking flips from Dickenson for 45 minutes.

Between trading barbs with Dickenson, playfully debating the finer points of hitting, Gose lined one ball after another into the netting.

Gose went back inside and an hour later was back on the field to stretch with his teammates and start batting practice.

He and Dickenson picked up their conversation about hitting, and though Gose was trying to have fun with it, Dickenson seemed frustrated that his points weren't getting through.

"He's as talented as anybody we have in our organization," Dickenson said later. "And he's a hard worker, physically. It's a matter of whether he can clear that mental hurdle to get to where he needs to be."

Top pick, big arm

An hour later, Pittsburgh Pirates right-hander Gerrit Cole walked out of the visiting clubhouse and started his pregame routine.

Cole, the No. 1 overall pick in the June draft out of UCLA, is the day's No. 1 attraction. Featuring a fastball that regularly touches triple digits and two secondary pitches to go with it, his power stuff compares with that of another fall-league alum, Stephen Strasburg.

Finished warming up, Cole went back inside, and the nearly empty ballpark became a sort of baseball social, with scouts and front-office types shaking hands and swapping stories.

"I think it's the favorite league for scouts to be assigned coverage," said Louie Medina, a special assistant to the general manager for the Kansas City Royals. "It's like the winter meetings of games."

For a scout such as Medina, getting a chance to see a large collection of players his team might target in potential trades makes the fall league valuable. In his eyes, the overly relaxed atmosphere might be the only downside.

On this day, there were perhaps 125 people in the stands. Counting players, coaches, scouts and league staff, the number of those who were paid to be there almost certainly exceeded the number of fans who bought tickets.

Soon enough, the game started, with New York Yankees right-hander David Phelps carving through the Solar Sox lineup. A 14th-round pick out of Notre Dame three years ago, he and Cole could hardly be more different.

"Pretty much polar opposites," Phelps said.

Phelps doesn't possess overpowering stuff and has had to post good numbers at every level to reach this league. He's hoping it will be his springboard to the majors, either via the Rule 5 draft or a spot on the Yankees' 40-man roster.

Performances such as this can only help. Phelps gave up just one hit and one walk in five scoreless innings, outdoing Cole, who gave up one run in three innings.

Cole's stuff might not have been at its absolute best, but it still was impressive. A scout in the stands said he saw Cole hit 100 mph on the radar gun 13 times in his previous start; on this day, Cole topped out at 99 mph.

The Solar Sox wound up winning 3-1 thanks to a two-run double by Twins shortstop Brian Dozier, but that seemed inconsequential to everyone in attendance - including the players.

Gose wound up with a hit and a walk in four trips to the plate, but it was a fifth-inning strikeout that he couldn't shake when talking after the game. He took a fastball for a strike, then swung at a pair of breaking balls.

"Story of my life," Gose said. "If I could stop swinging at the breaking ball in the dirt, I'd be a different player."

But that's why Gose is here, why he arrives so early every morning.

Gose had one more meal before heading home.

He wasn't sure what the rest of the day would bring. He might wash his truck, he said, something he'd been putting off for weeks.

But he knows he'll be back in the clubhouse the next day. Bright and early.