Unique, in a charming sort of way

FORT MYERS, FLA.

Carlos Gomez has already proclaimed himself the Twins' future No. 3 hitter, promised to increase the RBI total of "the catcher and Morneau" and prompted scouts to call him the fastest man in baseball.

He swings like he's trying to fell a redwood, runs like Nancy Grace is chasing him and boasts like he inherited Muhammad Ali's self-promotional DNA. The moment he takes center field tonight, Gomez will become a unique player in Twins' history, even though we have no idea whether he'll stay in the lineup through April of 2008 or 2018.

Former Twin Torii Hunter, returning as an Angel tonight, was the most talented of an accomplished group of Twins position players this decade, yet he can't match Gomez's speed or arm strength. The two are most comparable in the category of charming cockiness.

"I put pressure on the other team," Gomez said. "They do not want to put me on base, and when I steal a base, they'll make a good throw, and the guy will ask, 'How did you steal that base?' The next time the pitcher will be too quick because of me, and he'll be messed up.

"You know?"

Yes, we know. This spring we watched Gomez hit a one-hopper to the mound, and when the pitcher bobbled the ball, Gomez was safe. He got picked off first -- and easily beat the throw to second. One day in Jupiter, Fla., he got a slow jump, the catcher made a perfect throw, and Gomez beat it by a body length.

"Everything about him makes me laugh," said right fielder Michael Cuddyer. "Especially just how fast he is. He beats out everything."

"He sounds like a train coming down the line," catcher Mike Redmond said. "He's not a skinny guy who's fast -- he's a big, strong guy who can fly."

Gomez is not a postmodern leadoff hitter. He will not work the count, ponder handfuls of pitches and obsess over his on-base percentage. He alternates violent hacks with Charmin-soft bunts and tries to inspire more trepidation than the IRS.

Growing up in the Dominican Republic, when did he understand just how fast he is? "I played baseball when I was 4 years old," he said. "I played all the sports, basketball and [track.] I never worked at it. When I got to be 14 or 15, I had teammates who worked on their legs, on getting fast, and I'd sit there, and then we'd race 60 yards and I'd always win.

"My friend would say, 'How can you win all the time, you're not doing anything?' And I'd say, 'Because.'"

Ask a Twin about Gomez this spring, and the response would be a head shake and a giggle. When Justin Morneau stopped laughing, he said: "He is one of a kind. In so many ways. He can absolutely fly. He's the kind of athlete who comes along very rarely, with that speed and also having power.

"I don't think he quite knows how to use his power yet. He thinks he has to swing harder to hit it farther. Hopefully, he'll figure it out. His arm from the outfield is as good as I've ever seen, although he needs to be more accurate.

"He's a little out of control. He's 1,000 miles an hour. But when he comes to the plate, or gets on base, everybody watches."

The other day in spring camp, Gomez was standing by the batting cage, waiting to hit, when someone lined a shot off the pitching screen. The ball shot back over the cage toward the backstop. Gomez took off on a dead sprint, executed a Willie Mays basket catch and held up the ball like a trophy.

It was stunning and rather silly. No other player would think of doing that, and few could pull it off.