Amphibious Pitcher

I saw an article this morning about Pat Venditte, drafted in the 20th round by the Yankees. He's what you might call a switch-pitcher. Come to think of it, after watching this piece about him while still in college, "Switch" probably wouldn't be a bad nick-name. In fact, if we were still in the golden age of baseball, when nick-names were prominent and really good nick-names were more recognizable than the first names on birth certificates, I'd be posting about Switch Venditte, not this Pat guy, whoever that is.

Thanks A Lot, Chien-Ming

Prior to my senior year of high school, I played outfield and pitched. When I was 15 years old I also played some third base and even a little shortstop, depending on who was pitching on a given night. I was never a great hitter, but I was pretty good. I had what they call "warning track power." I was good for a nice double in the gap to the wall, but I have exactly one career home run. It was a game-winner in a JV game my junior year of high school. I was more of a line drive guy... That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

I also played some basketball in high school until the coach decided he didn't like baseball players. Truly, he didn't like that baseball players spent their summers playing in tournaments all over the country instead at his little basketball summer camps, but I digress.

My senior year in high school was the year that I became primarily a pitcher. And, no matter what I had done or been in the past, it was also the year I became a non-athlete. Because, as everyone knows, pitchers aren't athletes. Except for, well, I didn't believe it, and I spent the rest of my time in the game trying to prove that I was an athlete, I just happened to pitch better than I hit.

One of the greatest compliments I ever received was kind of an insult. I was playing a little pick-up basketball with some other missionaries one day. After a few games, one said to me, "Geez, Reynolds. You're pretty good. I wouldn't have thought you were athletic at all." By that time in my life, I had put on a few pounds and added a chin. I also had my glasses on, which didn't help matters any, so I couldn't blame him.

Anyway, back to the point. Pitchers get a bad wrap for being non-athletes. Sure, sometimes they look a little goofy covering first base and handling the toss from the first baseman. Occasionally they launch a perfect double-play ball over the shortstop's head and into center field. But overall, pitchers are every bit the athletes as the position players. They just specialize in different things.

But just when you think you might have people convinced, Chien-Ming Wang pulls up lame while running the bases. No, he didn't twist his ankle sliding safely into third base on a close play. It happened when he scored from second base on a base hit to right field. There wasn't even a throw to the plate when he scored. According to the Yankees' web site, he was diagnosed with a "mid-foot sprain of the Lisfranc ligament of the right foot and a partial tear of the peroneal longus tendon of the right foot."

I know what you're thinking, and yes, I'm serious. He did all of that rounding third base and scoring. And, making the situation even more ridiculous, the new Steinbrenner in charge of the Yankees got his panties in a bunch because the National League doesn't use the DH (Designated Hitter). And, since his team was playing an Interleague match-up on the road, his front-line starter had to --gasp-- run the bases.

Hank Steinbrenner might think it was the National League's fault, but maybe this whole thing could have been avoided if only Wang would have had some better arch-supports in his cleats. That, or maybe one of the athletes on the team should have given him some baserunning pointers. Then again, did anyone really expect him to even get on base in the first place? After all, he is just a pitcher, right?

Junior's Immortality

I couldn't let this milestone go by without throwing in my worthless opinion. In case you missed it, and if you did, you probably weren't alone, Ken Griffey Jr. hit career home run number 600 earlier this week. In so doing, he becomes only the sixth player in history to reach that mark, joining Babe Ruth, Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, Barry Bonds, and Sammy Sosa. He'll most likely pass Slammin' Sammy (609) some time this season. It was a shame that he had to do it in Dolphin Stadium in front of the meager Florida Marlin crowd of 16,000. 

Junior has easily earned his ticket to the Hall of Fame. Sure, his stats are impressive, but what really sticks out in my mind when thinking about him is the lack of, well, asterisks. 

Remember when sports stars were immortal? Babe Ruth, Joe DiMaggio, Hank Aaron, Ty Cobb, Willie Mays, Roberto Clemente... They used to be larger than life, but in a good, awe-inspiring way. 

Lately we've had the likes of Mark McGwire, Barry Bonds, and Robert Clemens break records and reach milestones. But, they were unable arrive at the immortal status of past baseball deity because of their obvious mortality. Relying on artificial substances to increase your performance is proof of imperfection and flaws, the very essence of mortality. 

Maybe the difference is the difference in media coverage between then and now. Professional athletes are under a microscope -- especially those of all-star caliber.  Socially speaking, the country seems less and less trusting, and baseball and its recent plague of performance enhancing drugs hasn't proved itself worthy of trust for some time. It seems like every modern-day milestone is viewed with a hardy amount of skepticism. 

And now there's Junior hitting his 600th homerun, and the general consensus is that he has done so without any pharmaceutical assistance (another than a large supply of Advil, speaking from limited experience). It's refreshing. 

But, I was wrong when I said there were no asterisks. The asterisk next to Griffey's name doesn't allude to a possibility that he cheated during his career. In fact, it's not negative at all. His asterisk says, sure, he was great -- one of the greatest -- but how good could he have been?

Junior's career numbers could be even more amazing if he would have been able stay healthy. Over his 19 year career, he's averaged 125 games a season, which means he missed 475 games. If you figure an average of 3.5 at-bats per game, that's over 1660 at-bats. 475 games is nearly three full seasons. The "Super Griffey" stats, based on his career output and an Iron Man run of health, are really impressive. But the fact he's been as good as he has been, and done so with nothing more than God-given talent and hard work, should place him among the immortal Titans of baseball's past. 

A Little Little League Discussion

I was watching a little league game yesterday - coach pitch, to be exact. It was the Yankees, the team our friends' son plays for, versus the Tigers. Come to think of it, they played the Tigers on Saturday too, but it was a different team. The Tigers from Saturday's game had white shirts with black lettering and black hats which resembled the High School team, who is also the Tigers. Yesterday's opponent had red uniforms with Tigers in white across the front, and a block-letter T on their hats. The Yankees, on the other hand, had official-looking hats and jerseys, with the trademark NY logo. 

During the game, another friend of ours commented that he'd read that Major League Baseball had threatened to sue Little Leagues over Trademark infringement. I hadn't heard anything about it, but it didn't surprise me. I did a quick search and found this article out of Chicago. According to the article, not only the logos, but the team names are trademarked. So I guess the Tigers and the printer that supplied their jerseys had better come up with a new name. But does that go for the high school team too? I don't think so. Otherwise where would the line be drawn? The high school football team's name doesn't infringe on MLB trademark law if they're the Tigers. Besides, what about the University of Missouri Tigers, or the LSU Tigers? Trademarking the Red Sox, the Phillies, the Dodgers, or the Twins is one thing. But trying to own the rights to being named after a mascot from the animal kingdom, like Tigers, Cardinals, Blue Jays, Orioles, and Marlins, could prove more difficult. 

My formative years in baseball were as a Pirate, a Mighty Mite, a Red Sock, a Giant, a Pirate again, a Brave, and a Cardinal. We had fairly official-looking t-shirts on most of those teams. My Red Sox team had royal blue t-shirts and hats (of the trucker variety, foam in front, mesh in back) with RED SOX spelled out in red block lettering. As an nine-year old in an imitation Red Sox t-shirt, I hoped that one day I would play in the majors. No, not THE Majors, though I probably hoped that too, but to be honest, I don't think I was ever good enough to convince myself that it could happen. Eight- and nine-year-olds played in the minor B. Minor A was for ages 10-12, unless you were drafted by the majors. If you were good enough, a team in the majors could draft you when you were nine, but that, of course, was considered controversial at times. It was debatable whether a promising, young ball player would be better served by playing against players his own age, getting more playing time, and being the star of his team, or being "called up" to the majors where he would spend four seasons with the same team, and sometimes, the same coach, playing against the best players the community had to offer. 

Anyway, as I was saying, there I was in my generic Red Sox jersey, and I could hardly wait for the majors because their uniforms were awesome. To a nine-year-old me, they were perfect in their authenticity. And most of the players had what we called "pro-backs." Pro-backs were the fitted hats worn in the major leagues, and I wanted one. I tried out for the majors when the time came, thinking I had an in because I had a cousin on a team, but I wasn't drafted when I was ten, and spent a year in Minor A with the Giants. Sure, we had officially licensed jersey's and hats, but they were lower-tier, as far as I was concerned. The next season I was drafted by the Pirates to the majors, and I couldn't have been happier. I had the sweet uniforms, the team jacket (which was a HUGE status symbol at the elementary school), and my pro-back Pirates hat. I had quite literally made the big time. 

Luckily, if I read that article right, the MLB wasn't outlawing the use of their names and logos, only saying that the teams needed to be buying the official gear MLB produces. So kids all over the country can still be excited to be on the Mets or the Indians or the Pirates, as long as their league can afford the shirts and hats. Otherwise, maybe they can look forward to being on teams like the Sluggers or the Bandits. Hopefully someone has outlawed the Mighty Mites by now, so they won't have to worry about that. 

**Hopefully this post comes through alright. I'm away from home and trying to email this to Blogger to be immediately posted. 

Pressure in the Big Apple

I don't get to see as much baseball as I'd like. I've only had cable TV three times in my life: my apartment in college, my apartment during a three-month summer job in Puerto Rico, and in a basement apartment with my wife for 16 months (but it was basic cable, so no FSN and none of the ESPN channels). If we had cable, I'd watch every Royals game, and many other games as well. 

But today I'm watching the Royals-Yankees game. Always a treat to see a game during the day. And anytime you see the Yankees, some of the League's best talent is on display. The Royals are 3-17 in their last 20 games. The Yankees are, well, the Yankees. The pressure is clearly on the boys in blue. 

Funny how pressure can affect the game. Take a one-run ball game in the ninth inning, for example. Who is feeling the most pressure? The hitter or the pitcher? Depends on the hitter and the pitcher. As a fan of your team, you know your guys better than the other guys. So you know their weaknesses. So you assume the worst. Or, maybe that's just me. There is (or should be) plenty of pressure on the hitter. After all, he has a tough job. He has to hit a round ball with a round bat squarely. Did I mention the round ball is curving, sliding, cutting, and sinking?

Then again, the pitcher's job isn't much easier. This guy has to throw a ball 60 feet, 6 inches, and he has to throw it well enough to be both a strike and hopefully something the batter can do little with. The easiest way for the pitcher to relieve the pressure is to attack the hitter, thereby announcing to the hitter that the pressure is clearly on him, putting him on the defensive. 

The problem with the Yankees is that it never quite seems that the pressure is on them. You can attack the strike zone all you want, but they can just as easily attack you right back. The Royals have had multiple leads in their series with the Yanks, but they have always come back. Except for today. They put some pressure on Joakim Soria in the last inning to the tune of a bases-loaded jam, but Soria recorded the final out for the save and the win. 

Thoughts on the Draft

Growing up in Taylorsville, the Zion of Utah baseball, the Major League Amateur draft had a local flavor. My senior year, we had two draftees - one in the 7th round to the Houston Astros, and one in the 39th round to the Oakland Athletics. 

Now that I'm in Kansas City, the draft has taken on a whole new light. The draft is a big deal when you're team is already out of playoff contention. This was the first year that the flaws in the draft were apparent to me. I'm way behind the curve on this one, I know. But here are a few thoughts. 

The biggest difference between the MLB draft and drafts for the NFL and NBA is the length of time it takes for a drafted player to impact their new team. Eric Hosmer, for example, was the Royals' first round pick in yesterday's draft. Apparently, he has raw power and the potential to be an impact bat that drives in runs and frequently deposits balls in the fountains of Kauffman Stadium. The problem is that the soonest this could happen might be 2012, and that's being optimistic. Eric Hosmer is 18 years old and just graduated from high school. He was drafted on his potential, which seems to be limitless at this point. And that, brings me to my second qualm with the draft.

Despite having as many career at bats in the major leagues as I do, sometime in the next 10 weeks, he may receive a signing bonus upwards of $5 million dollars. Reportedly, he is asking for $7 million, so $5 million might be deal for the Royals. That's a lot of money to pay for an unproven player. In past drafts, that kind of money has dissuaded teams at the top of the draft, like the Royals, Rays, or Pirates, from selecting the top talent available. In the NBA, the debate about who will be the first overall draft pick centers on their talent, their ability. The MLB draft takes talent and ability into account, but it has to be balanced by the players' signability. That's why Tim Melville, a high school RHP (right-handed pitcher) who was possibly one of the best high school arms in the draft, and a projected first-round pick, slid all the way to the Royals in the 4th round (115th overall). Concerns about a high signing bonus and whether or not he will attend college made his signability an issue and kept other teams from selecting him sooner. In this case, he fell far and fell to the Royals. In other cases, the best talent might fall to the best teams, the teams that can afford the multi-million dollar signing bonuses. 

The office of the Commissioner of Baseball is aware of these and other issues with the draft, but changes in baseball can take time. Sometimes even longer than it takes for a first round draft pick to materialize. 

Dave and Fergie

My brother was here for a visit this weekend. We took him everywhere. A pair of Royals games, Culver's, Neighbor's Cafe, Sheridan's, the River Market, Liberty Jail, Big T's BAR-B-Q, and the Negro League Baseball Museum. It was my fourth visit to the Baseball Museum, but this visit was especially cool for me because of the scheduled discussion with Hall of Fame Pitcher Ferguson "Fergie" Jenkins, and World Series MVP and multiple 20-game winner Dave Stewart.

Growing up my team was the Oakland A's. Not sure why, it just was. It was the late 80s, and I was a huge Jose Canseco fan (no worries, I've repented of that), and my best friend had a man-crush on Mark McGwire. But truly, I loved the entire team. Ricky Henderson, Walt Weiss, Mike Gallego, Terry Steinbach, Carny Lansford, Dave Henderson, and Dave Parker. Yeah, I named them all from memory, so I might have mixed up a few seasons, but that was my team. Their pitching staff included Storm Davis, Dennis Eckersley, and Dave Stewart.

Dave Stewart was a stud. I knew that even at age 10. He had this nasty stare-down before every pitch. He looked like he was ready to fight the batter at any time. The term "head-hunter" came to mind. Saturday afternoon, he described himself as the "Assassin" during one story. So you have to believe that I had this image of the guy in my head when I was little. But that came crashing down one afternoon during a postseason interview.

It was back in the day when all postseason games were on network television, and some of them were day games. The A's were playing one afternoon, and I rushed home after school ended. Looking back, I seriously doubt any of my friends were running home to possibly catch the final innings of a baseball game on TV. I was too late that day because Dave Stewart and apparently made quick work of his opponent that day. And that's when it happened... I tuned into the radio for the postgame show, and they were interviewing him. But, instead of hearing the voice of the hero I had built up in my mind, instead of the deep, rough, manly voice of Dave Stewart, I heard what I can only now describe as Michael Jackson on helium. It was the squeak I always imagined would come out Jerry's mouth from Tom and Jerry, but never did.

I was devastated – more than when I discovered the truth about Jose Canseco. It was traumatic. What I was hearing did not match the bull-dog mentality he displayed on the mound. This guy was ferocious out there. It was like dipping your finger in the Cool-Whip for a nice, tasty treat, then discovering that you were sucking on expired sour cream.

So luckily, I was more than prepared for this discussion on Saturday. We arrived a little late, but we mostly just missed the introductions. The crowd of about 80 people were asking these two fine pitchers questions: Who was a tough out for you when you pitched? How did you go about preparing for games? What's your opinion on the way pitch-count has affected the game today? And then, "Do you think the strike zone has changed over the years? It seems to me that umpires never call a pitch above the belt a strike, and that's not the rule." Great question.

Both Dave and Fergie answered that they had seen a change in the strike zone. Then Dave Stewart launched into a little story that began, "I still don't like umpires."

Paraphrasing, the rest of the story was as follows: "I've been retired for 13 years now, and I still can't stand umpires. The other day I was watching the Dodgers game. Brad Penny was pitching and Russel Martin was catching. I don't know how it happened, or how he missed it, but Martin missed a straight fastball – just clean missed it. That poor umpire had no idea what hit him. That fastball hit him right in the head and knocked him out cold. I mean, he was just laying there on the ground, out cold, and I stood up and cheered... I was like, 'Yeah! Nice job Russ! Do it again!'"

I knew there was a reason I loved that guy.