Daily Archives: March 12, 2003

PUNKS JUMP UP TO GET BEAT DOWN

“This era of pitchers don’t know the art of pitching inside. They just think they can take a baseball and you wind up just throwing it at somebody’s head or whatever, that’s pitching inside.” — Frank Robinson.

In a spectacular act of cowardice, Dodger pitching hopeful Guillermo Mota, plunked Mets catcher Mike Piazza for the second consecutive year in a spring training contest, and then ran to safety like a little bitch when Piazza charged the mound.

“It was a set-up as far as I was concerned,” Howe said. “It was certainly intentional from my viewpoint.

“The guy ran like a scared rabbit when the man came out after him,” Howe added. “If he wants to hit somebody, stand there and fight. He can back-pedal faster than I can run forward.”

Unlike Vladi G, Piazza is not your proto-typical, thin-skinned modern slugger. I saw the game involving Mota last year, and thought the kid was a punk trying to act tough when he threw at Piazza on a 3-0 count in a meaningless game. Those feelings were reinforced when I saw the replay of last night’s incident.

Have you ever seen someone who deliberately wanted to hit a batter, run scared the way Mota did?

Piteful. I don’t blame Piazza for being heated. This ranks up there with the best chickenshit beanings in recent memory.

While I’m on the subject, here is an article from MLB.com on the Vlad Guerrero-Brad Penny altercation earlier this week.

Robinson said that when he was a player, instead of going after the pitcher, he walked to first base and took his anger out on the shortstop or second baseman on the basepaths, or by getting a base hit during his next time at-bat. There was a reason behind Robinson’s actions.

“I retaliated, but I didn’t charge the mound,” he said. “Why would I charge the mound? Then the pitcher has won, [and] I’m gone. I did my teammates a disservice, I did the organization a disservice and I did myself a disservice because I’m not in the ballgame. I just took it out on the second baseman or the shortstop. Many of them asked me, ‘What are you doing?’ I said, ‘Don’t ask me. Ask your pitcher.’ I was going to get you if it was a ground ball.”

MR. CLUTCH

There was a nice, little article on Edgardo Alfonzo in the Sac Bee a couple of days ago that is worth checking out. Can you equate clutch hitting with playing in New York? Fonzie thinks so:

“The key is his plate coverage,” new Giants batting coach Joe Lefebvre said. “He can hit any pitch with a short, compact swing — and that makes him dangerous. Playing in New York definitely toughens you up. He can handle anything.”

Alfonzo agreed.

“The New York pressure never got to me. The fans and media back there can be tough when you’re going bad and great when you’re doing good. But it really was no different than playing winter ball.

“When you play in Venezuela, it’s very intense from the first pitch to the last, so it makes you very aggressive. And when you play in New York, you have to learn to handle things. There are a lot of distractions and a lot of competition, including the Yankees…”I just try to select a pitch to hit. I’ve always been able to focus. It’s always been part of my game to make contact. I’ve always hit line drives and used all fields.”

TAGGING UP

It’s no secret that Bernie Williams, a four-time gold glove center fielder, has a rag arm, that is only getting worse with age. To his credit, Williams knows it is a flaw in his game:

“That’s always been a constant battle for me,” the center fielder said. “There are things in this game that come easily to me and some things that don’t. That’s one of the things that never has come easily to me, and I think everybody knows it.”

…”If you perceive the guy to not have a strong throwing arm, you would be more encouraged to do that, sure,” Williams said. “It’s something I would do myself.”

Having identified the problem, Williams works every day on charging the ball so he can be in better position to make a throw.

“Does Bernie have the strongest arm in the league? No,” Yankees first-base and outfield coach Lee Mazzilli said. “But there are things we do to compensate for that, like playing shallow and getting rid of the ball. Bernie’s real good about working on that.”

…”Everyone knows what you have, so it’s no secret,” Mazzilli said. “That’s why we work on it all the time.”

Mazzilli said Williams loves working on the details, things like getting in position to throw off the correct foot, setting up to catch fly balls in a good throwing position, and charging ground balls to cut down the time it takes to get the ball back to the infield. Still, other teams see an opportunity — something to exploit.

“There’s no doubt, in everybody’s report, you take the extra base on a ball hit out there,” an American League scout said at yesterday’s Yankees-Indians game. “And you’ve definitely seen a decline. I wouldn’t be surprised to see more teams (tagging up from first) as time goes on.”

…”It keeps you humble,” Williams said. “I know I will not be a complete player until I master that.”

It is unlikely that Bernie will improve his throwing significantly at this stage in his career, but he can work at making quick, accurate throws to the cut off man (ala Mickey Rivers). Still, it’s refreshing to see that Williams’ work ethic is as strong as ever.

WHO YOU CALLIN A RED ASS?

Former Yankee pitcher, and personal favorite, El Duque appears to be a happy camper for the Expos this spring.

According to a report in Newsday, Montreal GM Omar Minaya said:

“First day, 8 a.m., and he’s out there running laps before everybody else,” Minaya said yesterday before the Mets-Expos game that ended in an 11-inning, 6-6 tie. “He’s been a leader for us right from the start.”

Hernandez, who was sharp pitching three scoreless innings in his first spring-training start for Montreal and makes his next start tomorrow, smiled easily and, through an interpreter, was loquacious with New York writers. “I never felt I had to impress anyone here. That’s just the way I work,” said Hernandez, who has admitted he is several years older than the 33 it says in the Expos’ media guide. “The people in New York know I work hard and I always come out to the park early.”

…”He’s been throwing great. He’s the El Duque I’ve always known,” [Minaya,] the former Mets assistant GM said. “The leadership and the work ethic are there. Some men are perceived leaders and some men are leaders with scars. El Duque is a leader with the scars to prove it. When there was a big game for the Yankees, he wanted the ball. Wanting the ball is leadership.”

El Duque has also been in constant contact with fellow Cuban refuge, Jose Contreras, offering him counsel through what is undoubtedly a difficult transitional period:

“The change is very harsh, in speaking English, not understanding things, having your family far away, the pressure from the press, the money they’re paying you,” HernZndez said. “There’s a lot of things you have to overcome little by little.”

Contreras listened. Leo Astacio, Contreras’s translator with the Yankees, said: “He just kept nodding. He appreciated it.”

GETTING CLOSER TO GOD IN A TIGHT SITUATION

The Times has a story today about Mariano Rivera and his wife Clara. Last fall, Clara gave birth to a son, Jaziel. She had to have a Caesarean, and as a result began hemorrhaging. It was a frightening situation but she pulled through just fine.

Rivera, a deeply spirtual man, still gets misty-eyed when he talks about it.

Just to prove that all jocks aren’t self-involved jerks, dig this:

A few weeks later, Rivera invited about 20 members of the hospital staff who had cared for his family to a celebration at his home in Purchase, N.Y. It rained that night, and Rivera parked cars to keep his guests dry. “I’m thankful that my family survived because of what you did,” Rivera later told the gathering. The speech nearly caused him to weep.

“As a worker or an employee, it’s special when people show appreciation,” Cruz said. “Our staff was very humbled by being included in the night at the Rivera home. It was beautiful.”

A beaming Rivera said: “They took care of my wife and son like they were their family, so I wanted to do something for them. They told me no one had ever done anything like this for him.”

This story hit home for me, because my girlfriend is going to have major surgery tomorrow. Emily has Crones, and while the procedure is not life-threatening it will take up to 9 hours, and is a major ordeal. She will be at Lennox Hill hospital in New York for a week to ten days recovering after that. All of my thoughts and love will be with her, of course, and I can only hope that she is in good hands.

I won’t be able to treat all of her doctors and nurses to a dinner at my house, but I may send them a note of thanks all the same.

HUMBLE PIE

One thing I know for sure. Each year, the more I learn about baseball, the more I realize just how much I don’t know. Or how much I have yet to learn. It is why I keep coming back.

It is also one of the reasons why the art of second-guessing isn’t one of my favorite activities. More often than not, I simply don’t feel qualified enough to go there. Sure I engage in it from time to time, and I also appreciate how essential second-guessing is for many fans, but frankly, I’m more interested in how Dusty Baker is tuned in to his team’s individual culinary tastes than how sound his baseball strategies are.

But that’s just me.

With each passing season, I feel that as my appreciation for the game grows profoundly, so does the sense that there is still much to discover.

I was reminded of this when I read Rob Neyer’s recent interview with Paul DePodesta, assistant GM of the A’s. DePodesta serves as Billy Beane’s right-hand man in Oakland, and is likely to become a hot shot general manager sooner rather than later:

Growing up, I always thought I knew a lot about baseball. I played in college. I played with a bunch of guys who played pro ball. I played hundreds and hundreds of games. Because of my body type, I was an on-base machine (I haven’t hit a home run since tee-ball), and I was always fundamentally sound because I had to be. But I got to the Indians, and it didn’t take but three or four days of being around the minor-league complex in spring training, and I realized, “I know nothing.”

It was overwhelming at first. At that point, I realized that the best I could offer was just grinding out anything they needed done. And it was probably something like two years later when I gave them something that actually added value to the organization. I just didn’t know a lot about the game, or at least not about the way this game works.

So the advice I normally give is, “Don’t go in thinking that you’re going to revolutionize this organization. Go in ready to work very hard. Keep an open mind, and listen to everybody.”

RED ASS REDUX

Former teammates Omar Vizquel and Jose Mesa have a nasty little feud going. It started with comments Vizquel made about Mesa in his book, “Omar! My Life On and Off the Field,” and apparently didn’t end when the two faced each other last year.

“I thought he already took care of business,” Vizquel said Tuesday. “He already hit me once. He hit me twice actually, because he hit me once in Seattle. I don’t know why he hit me then. I hadn’t done anything to him then.”

The Indians faced the Phillies in a spring training game yesterday, but the two did not face each other.

Still, Mesa is still heated:

“I will not forgive him. Even my little boy (Jose Jr.) told me to get him. If I face him 10 more times, I’ll hit him 10 times. I want to kill him.”

Which bring to mind a scene from “The Honeymooners:”

Alice Kramden: They call me Killer, cause you slay me.

Ralph Kramden: And I’m calling Bellvue cause yer nuts!

TAKE IT FROM FRANK

Inspired by Vladi Guererro’s short fuse, I peeked into my baseball library and checked out Frank Robinson’s autobiography, “Extra Innings” (written with Berry Stainback).

Here is what the Hall of Famer had to say about beanballs:

I was as aggressive at the plate as I was on the base paths and in the outfield. I stood as close to the plate as I could and stuck my head out over it so that I could get the best possible view of the ball when it left the pitcher’s hand and so that I could protect the outside corner. If pitchers jammed me, my wrists were quick enough to get around on the pitch. And I dove into the ball as I strode to start my swing, but my reflexes were so sharp and my wrists were so strong that I could stop my stroke before I turned over my wrists for a called strike.

…But pitchers were not happy to see me come up to the plate with my head hanging over it in what was known as “concussion alley.” Many liked to throw fastballs inside and drive me off the plate. George Powles [a legendary American Legion coach from Oakland who also taught Joe Morgan, Curt Flood and Vada Pinson as kids] had schooled me well in how to get out of the way of inside pitches. Tuck your head into your shoulder and spin left. Quickly. If the pitch was too far inside, you spun and fell hard away from it. So a pitcher would knock me down, and I’d get right back up and hang over the plate again. At times, of course, I couldn’t get out of the way of 90-mph fastballs that were well inside. In my rookie year, I was hit by pitches 20 times, which easily led the league. I led the league in being hit by pitches in each of my ten National League seasons.

In Robinson’s second season (1957) he was beaned in the head by Ruben Gomez, and the following spring he was hit in the head again, this time by Camilo Pascual in an exhibition game against the Washington Senators. The second incident seriously effected Robbie, as his 1958 show. But the dip didn’t last long, and Robinson rebounded to win the NL MVP award by 1961.

The baseball played in those days was a lot tougher than it is today for one simple reason—the brushback pitch. Every team had a pitcher or two who moved guys off the plate and occasionally hit batters in the ribs, in the buttocks, in the elbow, or in the head. No team had more pitchers who threw dusters than the Dodgers…

We didn’t have many pitchers who regularly dusted opponents, and that bothered me when my teammates and I were being knocked down. If opposing pitchers were going to try and intimidate me to keep from doing my job, I though it was up to the pitchers on my club to help me and help themselves by retailiating with dusters. Most pitchers that you knocked down a couple of times got the message.

…We always knew when were being thrown at. When a pitcher with good control started throwing behind hitters, that was a clue. And when one of my teammates was hit such a pitcher, I’d tell ours, “Hey, let’s stop this thing before it gets out of hand. He hit one our our guys; let’s hit one of theirs and end it.”

The umpires usually controlled the beanball battles pretty well. Typical was a game against Don Drysdale. The first pitch he threw to second baseman Don Blasingame was behind his head. After getting Blazer out, Drysdale threw three pitches in a row at Pinson’s ankles, making him skip. Then Drysdale jammed Vada, but he dinked the pitch off his thumbs over third and ran it into a double. Drysdale was so furious that his face was flushed when I stepped in. His first pitch was at my head, the second at my ribs. While I spat out some dust, home plate umpire Dusty Boggess stepped toward Drysdale and said, “That’s enough of that. You do it one more time; you’re out of there.”

The next pitch smacked me in the forearm. Drysdale was ejected from the game, fined $50, and suspended for three days. Of course, suspending a starting pitcher for three days was meaningless, because he only started every four days anyway.

What? Robbie didn’t charge the mound? My how times have changed.