Victor Scott II Isn’t Vince Coleman, But He’s Following the Same Blueprint

The Cardinal Chronicle
Victor Scott II Isn’t Vince Coleman, But He’s Following the Same Blueprint
St. Louis, MO                                                                                                               By Ray Mileur

There are several directions you can go when trying to place Victor Scott II within the fabric of Cardinals history, a franchise defined by a legacy of speed, defense, and iconic outfield play.

Curt Flood comes to mind because of center field, defense, and the patience required for a young player to grow into his bat. Willie McGee comes to mind because of the speed, the athleticism, and the graceful way he covered ground in the outfield. Lou Brock is always part of any Cardinals conversation built around stolen bases and pressure.

But the most natural comparison for Scott is not Flood, McGee, or Brock.
It is Vince Coleman.

Not because Scott is Coleman. He is not. Coleman was one of the most disruptive baserunners in baseball history, a player who stole 110 bases as a rookie in 1985, won the National League Rookie of the Year Award, and gave Whitey Herzog’s Cardinals a weapon that changed the way opponents defended an inning before the ball was even put in play. Scott is still trying to establish himself as an everyday major leaguer.

But if there is a Cardinals blueprint that best fits what Scott is trying to become, it is Coleman’s.

Scott’s game is built on speed first. But this isn’t just ordinary speed, or the kind that gets written off as “runs well for a center fielder.” This is elite, game-changing acceleration—raw quickness that transforms routine grounders into infield hits, turns simple singles into doubles, and forces outfielders and infielders alike into hurried, sometimes panicked, decisions.

That is where the Coleman connection begins.

It is also where the mentorship matters.

Coleman has worked with Scott on the art of baserunning — not merely stealing bases, but mastering the nuances of reading pitchers’ moves, understanding timing, and creating chaos the moment his feet touch first base. That is an important distinction. Coleman was not just fast.

Plenty of players are fast. But Coleman, through relentless preparation and baseball IQ, weaponized his speed. He forced pitchers into balks, made catchers rush throws and commit errors, and distracted infielders at the most crucial moments, shifting the momentum of games.

That is the part Scott has to master.

At this stage, Scott does not need to be a middle-of-the-order bat. He does not need to chase power. He does not need to become something he is not. His path is much simpler and much harder at the same time: get on base, put the ball in play, use the whole field, bunt when the defense gives it to him, steal the extra base, and force the opposition to make clean baseball plays under pressure.

That is Coleman’s old road map.

It is also the old Cardinals way.

During the Whitey Herzog years, St. Louis built winning teams around pitching, defense, speed and relentless pressure on the opposition. Those Cardinals did not wait around for three-run homers; they manufactured runs with bunting, aggressive base running, and well-timed hit-and-run plays. They forced opposing teams out of their comfort zones, turning every base hit into a potential rally and every walk into a scoring threat. The pace was frantic, and few teams could keep up.

Coleman was the match that lit that fire.Scott has a chance to bring a version of that back.

The difference, of course, is that Coleman’s rookie season was historic almost from the start. He stole 110 bases in 1985, then followed with 107 in 1986 and 109 in 1987, becoming the only player in major league history to steal 100 or more bases in three consecutive seasons. That is not a reasonable measuring stick for Scott. Nobody should expect that.

Baseball is different now. Pitchers control the running game differently, defensive positioning is sharper and teams are not built around stolen bases the way Herzog’s Cardinals were.

But Coleman’s value was never only in the number.

It was in the threat.

That is where Scott can become dangerous.

A player like Scott does not have to hit .300 to affect a game, but he does have to reach base enough for his speed to matter. That is the line. The Cardinals can live with a young center fielder growing into his bat if the defense is elite and the speed changes games. But if he is not on base, the best tool in the shed stays hanging on the wall.

Coleman’s lesson for Scott is not, “Go steal 100 bases.”

The lesson is, “Make them deal with you.”

Make the pitcher step off. Make the first baseman hold you. Make the middle infielders shade. Make the catcher rush. Make the defense know that every clean inning can become messy if they give you an opening.

That is what Coleman did.

That is what Scott must learn to do.

There is another key difference between the two. Coleman, a left fielder, built his reputation almost solely on the havoc he wrought with his legs. Scott, by contrast, patrols center field, a premier defensive position, where his range and instincts might be his ticket to an everyday role while his bat matures.

That gives Scott a unique kind of value. He can save runs with his glove before he ever reaches base, track down fly balls destined for the gap, and provide a safety net for the pitching staff. His ability to impact both halves of every inning makes him the quintessential modern outfielder.

That is why the Scott-Coleman comparison works better as a blueprint than a prediction.

Coleman shows what elite speed can become when it is sharpened into a weapon.

Scott still has to prove he can do that consistently in the major leagues. He has to trim the strikeouts. He has to use his legs out of the batter’s box. He has to accept that a bunt single, a chopped grounder, a walk, and a stolen base can be just as damaging as a ball driven into the gap.

There is nothing glamorous about that kind of baseball.

There is just winning in it.

The Cardinals do not need Scott to become Vince Coleman. That is an unfair ask, just as asking him to become Curt Flood or Willie McGee would be unfair. Those names belong to their own time, their own teams, and their own places in franchise history.

But Scott can learn from Coleman’s blueprint.

He can learn how to make speed more than a scouting grade. He can learn how to turn it into a weapon. He can learn how to become the kind of player who changes an inning simply by reaching first base.

For Victor Scott II, the question is not whether he is the next Vince Coleman.
The question is whether Coleman’s lessons can help him become the best version of Victor Scott II.

And if that happens, the Cardinals may have something they have not had in a long time — a true disruptor, wearing red, making the other team play the game on St. Louis’ terms.

The Cardinal Chronicle, in association with Gateway Sports
Preserving the Past, Promoting the Present, and Projecting the Future.