Baseball 'Prodigy' Almost Took The World By Storm Until People Learned His Secret
It was June of 2008, and Danny Almonte was growing desperate. Once touted as a can't-miss prospect with a slider sweeter than sugar, the 21-year-old pitcher sat as silent as his telephone, with each round of the MLB Draft slowly slipping past. His mind raced — what could've happened? Where did he go wrong? But Danny knew: August 30, 2001. That was the day one impossible secret threatened to rob him of everything.
"Little Unit"
In those days, however, Danny was known by a different name: "Little Unit," a nod to imposing Hall-of-Fame pitcher Randy "Big Unit" Johnson. The moniker made sense. At 5'9", Danny was one 12-year-old you didn't want to mess with on the monkey bars.
Professional Prowess
But the place people dreaded seeing Danny most wasn't on the jungle gym; it was on the pitcher's mound. After all, his repertoire featured the kind of stuff you only saw in the pros, including a slick slider and a 76 mph fastball — equal to, at that distance, a 102 mph major-league pitch.
Pitching Phenom
The batters he faced could hardly do long division, let alone make contact with the kind of gas Danny was throwing. Pitch after pitch, strikeout after strikeout, the Dominican-born Bronx native had quickly become the next great Little League phenom.
The Big Stage
Backed by the "Baby Bombers" — nicknamed for their home field's place in the shadow of Yankee Stadium — Danny dominated the circuit en route to a Little League World Series berth, pitching a no-hitter in the 2001 Mid-Atlantic Regional finals in the process. "Almighty Almonte" appeared unstoppable — the LLWS, however, would be his biggest challenge yet.
Making History
But Danny was hardly fazed by the big stage, and in front of a crowd of over 20,000, he pitched the first perfect game in the Little League World Series since 1979. His next matchup — a squad from Oceanside, California — seemed just as lopsided, though a 4'10", 82-pound 11-year-old begged to differ.
David vs. Goliath
The boy's name was Matthew Cerda, and what he lacked in size he made up for in good old-fashioned baseball IQ. On top of that, his batting skills were remarkable for a kid his age. As he crossed to the plate to face the "Little Unit," he was ready.
Don't Blink
Yet before Matthew could even blink, he'd struck out. Danny's pitches looked almost supersonic, whizzing past in a formless blur only to land perfectly into the catcher's mitt. It was almost as if a grown man was hurling on the mound.
Still in the Game
When it came time for Matthew's second at-bat, three pitches was all Danny needed to once again send the 11-year-old back to the dugout. Even as Oceanside batters fell left and right, however, the Baby Bombers were only up one run as the final hitter squared up against Danny.
Matthew's Moment
That hitter, of course, was Matthew, who took the rival ace to a 2-2 count before making contact for the first time — and fouling the ball into the dugout. Finally, Danny pulled out his slider, sending the ball hurtling toward the plate. Matthew swung hard...
Fates Intertwine
And struck out again. The Bombers rushed the mound in celebration, and Matthew retreated to the team van to cry over his missed opportunity. Nevertheless, something happened in that moment that shifted the cosmic balance indefinitely — soon enough, both of these boys' fortunes would change forever.
The Next Big Thing
While Matthew disappeared into the quiet comfort of his Oceanside backyard to continue training following the loss, Danny became nothing short of a celebrity. Baseball analysts touted him as one of the best young prospects in decades, and several major-league clubs even began recruiting him.
Hometown Hero
He also became a hometown hero of sorts, with the Yankees inviting him to games and Mayor Rudy Giuliani giving him a key to the city. Danny relished in his newfound fame, though he never anticipated that the spotlight would uncover the one thing he'd kept hidden for years: the truth.
Searching For Scandal
Shortly after his Little League World Series run, several rival teams hired private investigators to dig up dirt on Danny's seemingly squeaky-clean past. Initial inquiries turned up little, though after two Sports Illustrated reporters traveled to the pitcher's Dominican birthplace, Danny's secret was revealed.
Fraud
While Danny's "birth certificate" had listed 1989 as his birth year, he'd actually been born in '87, making him 14 at the time of the LLWS — and therefore ineligible. The scandal shook the baseball world to its core, though it was Danny himself who paid the steepest price.
Falling Apart
After his father was extradited to the Dominican Republic to be prosecuted for falsifying his birth record, Danny floundered on his own. Lacking willpower and motivation, his pitching skills deteriorated, and in a bid for some stability he married a 30-year-old hairdresser shortly after his 18th birthday.
Short-Lived Career
Once a "sure thing" draft choice, Danny was passed over in the 2006 MLB Draft and ultimately signed to play for the Southern Illinois Miners of the independent Frontier League. He posted a 5.29 ERA in six appearances before being released — his professional career lasted just 34 days. Though he didn't give up.
Bouncing Back
Danny managed to bounce back in a big way after joining the Western Oklahoma State junior college team, giving up his slider to perfect his other pitches. Behind his arm and a red-hot bat, Danny led his team to the Juco World Series — his big-league dreams were still within reach.
Nothing But Silence
In fact, the Kansas City Royals had even expressed interest in taking him in the 2008 MLB Draft. Yet on that fateful June day, the phone never rang for 21-year-old Danny Almonte — the same, however, couldn't be said for another Little League star.
Hard Work Pays Off
Following his fateful LLWS appearance, young Matthew Cerda trained rigorously to prove he was more than just another Danny Almonte strikeout. Growing to 5'9", 165 pounds, the young infielder smashed Oceanside records to become one of the nation's most promising prospects — and, not long after, a professional ball player.
The Best Revenge is Massive Success
While Danny's phone sat silent, Matthew received a call from the Chicago Cubs, who drafted him in the fourth round as a catcher. For five years Matthew tore up the minor leagues, though after missing a season due to injury and working through multiple position changes, the 23 year old decided to hang up his cleats for good.
No Regrets
Danny ultimately served as an assistant baseball coach at his old high school. Believe it or not, the former prodigy says he's glad his secret got out — through all the turmoil, he’d been doing his research. And one particularly jarring Google search connected him with the disturbing story of Carlos Raposo, a soccer player who was hiding some truly dark skeletons in his closet.
Born to Be a Star
And with that, meet Carlos Henrique Raposo, better known as Carlos Kaiser. Not unlike Danny, since he was a boy, he wanted nothing more than to become a professional sports star. But although he boasted a colorful personality, sleek figure, and a full head of hair, Carlos was missing something crucial that made his "dream" sound more like a delusion.
All Talk, No Talent
The Brazilian couldn't kick a football for his life. "I wanted to be among the other players,” Kaiser explained. “I just didn’t want to play." He even fashioned himself after other players, taking his new surname from all-time great Franz "Der Kaiser" Beckenbauer. Soon, he would take things too far.
Spinning Lies
While still in his teens, Carlos won over a Mexican talent scout — mostly by talking a big game rather than playing one. He then signed with Club Puebla as a striker in 1979. It was his first real contract, though he never made it on the field.
No Hard Feelings
Never showing enough talent to enter a match, Kaiser got the boot from Mexico. But that was fine by him; his dismissal gave him a reason to return to sun-kissed Rio de Janeiro. Carlos wasted no time embeding himself in the colorful party scene.
A Clever Con
Improbably, Carlos got into a number of exclusive clubs by posing as Renato Gaúcho, a Brazilian football hero who sported a similar mullet. That tactic was a smashing success, until Kaiser bumped into the real Gaúcho one night.
Making Connections
But instead of getting upset, Gaúcho took a shine to the brash imposter. He introduced Kaiser to many of his teammates and offered to set him up with a number of local try-outs. With that chance meeting, Carlos was on the brink of becoming a Brazilian football star.
Fake It 'til You Make It
Over the following years, Kaiser signed with each of Rio's soccer clubs without playing a single second. How'd he pull it off? Well, many football players have come under fire for flopping — faking injury to attain a penalty — but Carlos elevated it to an art form.
Putting On a Show
Whenever Kaiser inked a contract for a team, he would join his new teammates for a workout. The striker stretched and jogged around for a few minutes during warm-ups. But then the theatrics would start.
Can't Prove Otherwise
Carlos would suddenly clutch his leg and claim to be in immense pain. This injury conveniently occurred right before he had to demonstrate basic soccer skills. As skeptical as the team trainers were, they didn't yet have the technology to prove Kaiser wrong.
Riding the Bench
With his alibi firmly in place, Carlos rode the bench for the rest of the season. This meant he never registered a score or goal over his fourteen years as a pro, but he still won over the tempestuous Brazilian crowds.
Fooling Fans
He tricked entire arenas into thinking he was a fan favorite! By bribing spectators and ball boys to chant his name, Carlos Kaiser became a key figure in any soccer conversation. Of course, many newly converted fans then wanted to see him in a match.
Quick Thinker
Carlos was too clever to let himself get into that position. Once, when a coach insisted on subbing him in, Kaiser picked a fight with a loud fan in the stands. The ploy got the striker immediately ejected, while still upholding his aura as a passionate athlete.
"Hot Commodity"
Each club inevitably parted ways with Kaiser, but he remained a hot commodity. Using a toy cellphone — most people in the '80s couldn't spot a fake — Kaiser staged calls about his next contract, always within earshot of an actual manager.
Silver Tongue
He also had the support of other footballers. Many suspected the con that Carlos was pulling, but he entranced them with his charisma and sharp sense of humor. Plus, Kaiser was a good guy to know off the field.
Party Guy
As one of Rio's leading social butterflies, Carlos took charge of planning all team parties. Rarely did they disappoint. Kaiser made contacts all over Brazil, even with dangerous men in the highest reaches of power.
Friends in High Places
Only Carlos could've defrauded sport promoter/mafioso Castor de Andrade and earned the kingpin's respect for it. De Andrade had the entire country under his thumb, even Brazil's president, but Kaiser had a knack for getting whatever he wanted from the man.
No Shame
Since retiring from football — or his approximation of it — in 1992, Carlos has been quite open about his lies. Nevertheless, he remained adamant that he never did anything wrong. He joked, "Not even Jesus pleased everybody. Why would I?
Local Legend
He since found a second act in the athletic world, as a trainer for female bodybuilders. But soccer fans all over Rio, even children born long after his retirement, still laud him as one of the greats. In a sense, he scored more than anyone else in history.
A Little Too Naïve
On the other hand, most people who hear the saga of Carlos Kaiser claim that they'd never fall for such an obvious scam today. People are too smart, too cautious, they say. However, a so-called teenage prodigy from the U.S.A. proves otherwise.
By 2015, Elizabeth Holmes had already reached the top of the world, but she was determined to go higher. The billionaire entrepreneur promised her company would change the world — and it did...in a way.
Born in 1984, Elizabeth stood out as a gifted student from a young age. She seemed destined to achieve greatness, and at age 9, she wrote a letter to her father saying she wanted to do "something that mankind didn't know was possible."
After mastering Mandarin in her teens, Elizabeth enrolled at Stanford University to study chemical engineering. Even such a prestigious academic setting, however, couldn't quite keep up with Holmes' ambitions.
So, after less than two years at Stanford, Elizabeth dropped out to found her own consumer healthcare company. Not long after, she unveiled a revolutionary idea that took the entire world by storm.
Citing a lifelong fear of needles, the budding businesswoman announced that she was about to revolutionize blood analysis. With just a finger prick, her technology could allegedly perform 50 different blood tests.
In 2004, she officially brought her company together in the form of Theranos — a portmanteau of "therapy" and "diagnosis." Though she chose to keep the company quiet from the general public, she coaxed big spenders to support her.
Elizabeth found her first investor in venture capitalist and family friend Tim Draper. Soon, she brought aboard Rupert Murdoch, future Secretary of Education Betsy Devos, and the Waltons — founders of the Walmart empire.
But to become an iconic CEO, Elizabeth needed more than just a lot of dough; she had to look the part. She took a page out of Steve Jobs's book and began wearing black turtlenecks every day. According to some, she also significantly lowered her voice.
By 2013, Elizabeth introduced Theranos to the world by inking a monster deal with Walgreen's. Elizabeth had billions in company coffers and became the talk of the town, but she did have to deal with criticism.
In scientific circles, statements abounded that Holmes' technology simply couldn't work. While she brushed off the naysayers, the young CEO also refused to explain exactly how they were wrong. She wouldn't tell reporters or the FDA. Not even her employees knew — save for one.
In her late teens, Elizabeth met entrepreneur Ramesh "Sunny" Balwani. Though he was 19 years older and married, they entered a relationship that was both romantic and professional. Sunny became the COO of Theranos and the only other soul who knew the secrets of its technology.
For a while, the lack of transparency didn't bother anyone. Forbes credited her the youngest self-made female billionaire in history, and Elizabeth received honors from Time Magazine and Harvard Medical School.
Elizabeth went so far as to become an icon for the next generation. In 2015, she launched a campaign called Iron Sisters to promote women in STEM fields. That was shortly before her entire world came crumbling down.
That year, disturbing rumors started to circulate about Theranos. For instance, anonymous sources whispered that Theranos secretly used other companies' blood tests for demonstrations, while leaving their own technology completely untested.
These theories gained traction when Theranos employee Tyler Schultz turned whistleblower. Cooperating with the Wall Street Journal, he revealed that Theranos' technology was completely inaccurate and didn't do what the company claimed. All eyes turned to Elizabeth.
Attempting damage control, she rebuffed the allegations on CNBC's Mad Money. She told Jim Cramer, "This is what happens when you work to change things. First, they think you’re crazy, then they fight you, and then all of a sudden you change the world."
However, the general public didn't buy her disruptor narrative any longer. Without an actual product, Theranos fell apart from the inside out and saw its $9 billion worth turn to ash.
After the Securities and Exchange Commission began interviewing so many Theranos insiders, it was no surprise when the bell came tolling for Elizabeth. She and Sunny were charged with eleven counts of fraud. Amazingly, she wouldn't admit anything was wrong.
Elizabeth continued to chat pleasantly with her scant employees, adopted a husky, and found a new love interest in Billy Evans. However, no level of denial could stop Theranos from finally dissolving in 2018.
Only time would tell exactly how Holmes would pay for her crimes, but her legacy is clear. Instead of revolutionizing technology, she innovated the 21st-century scam, wrapping up rich and poor alike in her lies.
In modern society, where success and notoriety are so intertwined, some people will tell any story to get ahead. This doesn't just happen in the business world, either.
Anna Delvey, for instance, was the life of the party. She fit in with Manhattan's elite effortlessly, but she certainly had secrets. Her wads of cash led people to conclude that she was very wealthy, but no one really knew how she earned her money.
Anna's story started on February 18, 2017, when she first checked in to 11 Howard, a fancy hotel in SoHo, Manhattan. Staff noticed her right away. After all, she tipped everyone $100 every time she saw them, and it was money that would pay off...
Anna quickly befriended a concierge who was roughly her same age. She asked Neff Davis from Crown Heights, Brooklyn for restaurant suggestions, but seemed to already know of every one that Neff suggested. "This was not a guest who wanted my advice, this was a guest who wanted my time."
Neff didn't mind spending time with Anna since she was grateful for her generous tips. Even the bellboys literally fought to help Anna because they knew that they would get a Benjamin. Anna threw cash around wherever she went.
Anna and Neff got along well and started visiting bars, restaurants, and clubs together, even mixing with artists like Guido Cacciatori, Gro Curtis, and Giorgia Tordini. Anna seemed particularly interested and knowledgeable in the world of fashion and art.
Anna knew how to climb up the social ladder, rung by rung, and kept working hard to meet even more famous, more wealthy, more successful people. She began hosting dinners and parties until all of her friends' friends knew her name. But she always kept Neff nearby.
One night, thanks to Anna, Neff even found herself seated next to her childhood idol, Macaulay Culkin. "Which was awkward," she said. "Because I had so many questions. And he was right there. Still, I never got the chance to be like, 'So, your the godfather to Michael Jackson's kids?'"
One of the closest friends Anna collected was Michael Xufu Huang, an art collector who founded his first museum at the age of 22. They planned a trip to Europe together, but Anna asked him to put flights and hotels on his credit cards, promising to pay him back... but she never did. That's when her secrets started unraveling.
You see, Huang had seen Anna spend money, so he figured she'd be good for it. They had a great time in Venice, but when they returned, she never offered to pay him back. It didn't seem too big of a deal, and she got away with it — this time.
It was a few weeks before her birthday when she hired a PR firm to throw her an unforgettable b-day bash at one of her favorite restaurants, Sadelle's. When it came time to pay up, Anna was gone. The firm even contacted Huang to see if he knew where to find her, but he was just as stumped. But he knew one thing: Anna wasn't someone he could trust anymore.
Huang began asking around to see if anyone had a deeper insight into Anna's life. Not only did nobody know her whereabouts they also didn't know her origin. Some assumed she was Russian, or Polish, or German. A few thought she came from oil money while others thought she was the child of a diplomat. The only thing they were certain about was her interest in parties and art.
Truthfully, Anna wasn't just a socialite: she had a plan. She wanted to make the right contacts in the art world to set up an exclusive club with a focus on art. She had her eyes set on 281 Park Avenue South and would call it the Anna Delvey Foundation, or ADF.
Marc Kremers was a creative director and digital designer from London whom Anna convinced to work with her on the ADF. The club would have a German bakery, restaurants, a basement nightclub, an artist residency program, and roof terrace overlooking Central Park. He said at first she was "a pleasure to work with."
But, after several months, the bills once again piled up, and Marc saw no money. "Hundreds of painful emails followed," Mar said, "complete with fictitious financial managers CCed, who'd muscle in every-time I threatened to seek legal action. As a small business owner, it was a grueling ride and nearly shut us down." The project was put on indefinite hold.
It was then that Anna met Martin Shkreli, an infamous businessman and hedge fund manager. He would soon be convicted of securities fraud, but not before giving Anna some tips.
Not long after, her hotel discovered that they didn't have a working credit card on file and locked her out. She did what Martin advised and threatened to buy web domains in all the hotel managers names; in order to use them in the future, they would have to pay her tons of money. Her dark side was starting to show...
Things had gone awry for Anna. There was little progress with the ADF and she was moving from hotel to hotel while avoiding paying for anything. She literally fled the country by taking a trip to Morocco with her personal trainer and her friend, Vanity Fair's Rachel Deloache Williams.
Of course, Rachel never saw a dime. "She walked into my life in Gucci sandals and Céline glasses," Rachel recalled, "and showed me a glamorous, frictionless world of hotel living and Le Coucou dinners and infrared saunas and Moroccan vacations. And then she made my $62,000 disappear."
By July of 2017, everything had fallen apart. Anna was arrested for three counts of misdemeanor theft of services (including a dine-and-dash) and was released without bail. Now she had nowhere to go, and no one left to turn to — not even Neff. Her old friends staged an intervention and told her the ADF was sold. With nothing left to lose, she tried to escape once again.
Using the last of her money and her tricks, Anna traveled to California, where she tried to hide in a rehabilitation center. Meanwhile, back in New York, the press got hold of her story, and slowly but certainly, the mystery that was Anna Delvey began to unravel...
The truth was: Anna Delvey didn't exist! Anna was really Anna Sorokin, a German-Russian girl from a working-class family. She tried attending the Central Saint Martins Art School in London but dropped out. She worked at Purple Magazine in Paris before moving to New York City at the age of 25. Anna Delvey got away with everything, but Anna Sorokin couldn't.
In October of 2017, she was arrested on six charges of grand larceny for scamming wealthy NYC business acquaintances and several hotels. According to the Manhattan District Attorney's office, the damage was as high as $275,000. She rejected a plea deal and faced a 15-year prison sentence.
Once in Riker's Island, Anna used her sly ways to befriend all the right prisoners. Perhaps that was how she learned how to post "throwback" pictures from jail because an old photo of her and Neff mysteriously appeared on her Instagram page.
TV producer and screenwriter Shonda Rhimes was set to produce a Netflix series detailing Anna's scandalous New York adventures. While a couple actors have shown interest in the lead role, Anna stated she wanted Jennifer Lawrence or Margot Robbie to portray her. She actually seemed more worried about casting than her upcoming trial.
Anna conned friends and businesses out of $275,000, using falsified documents to get multiple bank loans. She floated bad checks and took out lines of credit. The plan was to pay it all back with money from the ADF, but the money never came. Still, with her skills, she could come out of prison an even smarter criminal mastermind.
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