The World Series begins this week, and the eyes of Alameda are on Jimmy Rollins. I remember Rollins at Encinal High. My job was sports editor of the Times-Star back then, and I covered every game he played at Willie Stargell Field.

I had good preparation for the Rollins phenomena through a previous Alameda athletic prodigy. Jason Kidd showed us a kind of basketball no one had seen at St. Joseph Notre Dame. His passes were so quick, so on target, that the ball would often hit his intended target on the head before that teammate knew it was coming. Kidd graduated in 1992, Rollins graduated in 1996.

Now is a good time to relate a brief story about how Kidd ended up going to Cal. This is something that I have never revealed before.

Kidd was so coveted by college coaches across the country that head coaches like Bobby Knight were often seen in St. Joe's gym. I played golf with Jason one day late in that recruiting chaos, and asked him how he was holding up. He just looked down and shook his head, and he really didn't want to deal with it anymore.

So I just mentioned that I had a great education at Cal, really enjoyed my time there. (I knew Kidd spent a lot of his spare time playing pickup games at Harmon Gym). He just smiled, a tired smile. And he left the golf course, right there and then. I thought I had offended him in some way.

The next day, Kidd announced that he would be enrolling at UC Berkeley. The basketball program at Cal had never even tried for Kidd. They figured they had no chance. His announcement shook the Cal Athletic Department like it had never been shook before.

To this day, I do not know if I swayed him or not. Jason and I never talked about it. But he has given me a half-smile every now and then, as we saw each other down the road.

Jimmy Rollins gained the same volume of attention when he was at Encinal High, if not the same kind. The pros sought him, not the colleges. I would see grizzled old men, cigar sticking out of the side of the mouth, filling notebooks with furious scribbling. These were professional scouts, from the Yankees to the Angels, and every team in between. They were professional snipers in their own way, never revealing themselves to Rollins or the coaches, though their presence was obvious. No harassment, just silent assessment. Such is the way of professional baseball.

Nobody played shortstop like Rollins. He had all the moves, and a few nobody had ever seen. His arm was so good, he was also in the pitching rotation. And he hit the ball with such power that he would have hit fourth in the lineup, except when he talked coach Jim Saunders into the leadoff spot. His idol was Ricky Henderson. The North Coast Section finals were held at the Oakland Coliseum one year, and I saw Rollins take that field like he owned it, like this is where he always belonged - a major league field. The first home run he hit was well over the right-center field fence. He was home. No college for him.

Rollins broke 10 career school records at Encinal, including steals (99) and batting average (.484). He was drafted in the second round by the Phillies in 1996, something of a disappointment for his legion of fans in Alameda. And then he disappeared.

Rollins made his major league debut on Sept. 17, 2000. In his first major league at-bat, he smoked a triple off Chuck Smith of the Florida Marlins. Rollins had his first full major league season in 2001, and he was the only player from the Phillies selected for the All-Star Game that year. Rollins won the National League MVP Award in 2007. And last year, he led his Phillies to a World Series Championship. The next few days, he hopes to repeat, against the Yankees. This World Series is special to Alamedans.

Ron Salsig can be reached at