Baseball Is Not A Team Sport?

Yesterday afternoon I listened to about 2 minutes of the Howard Eskin and Ike Reese sports radio talkshow. They were debating Howard's statement that baseball is not a team sport. Howard and Ike both agreed that football is the "ultimate team sport." I tuned them out after they made fun of a caller who said something to the effect of: "Howard. Come on. What are you saying? There are nine men on the field."

Needless to say, I was rather perplexed. Eskin earns his living being a sports-ass-wiseguy, for sure, and he has never really made any bones about the fact that he is prejudiced toward football and hockey. It may well be that he wanted to get folks to call in, but if we take what he said at face value, he has showed us all (listeners anyway) what a cluck he really is.

Baseball is, indeed, a team sport. I just finished reading Jane Leavy's fabulous biography, Sandy Koufax: A Lefty's Legacy. The is not a normal bio. She intersperses biographic history chapters (full of quotes -- hundreds -- by people who knew Koufax) with chapters detailing each inning of Sandy's 1965 perfect game. These perfect game chapters are almost pitch-by-pitch at some times. Certainly, and most germaine to my argument here, these chapters show the team nature of baseball better than any long-winded argument I might make. No pitcher has ever thrown a no-hitter, let alone a perfect game, without support from his fielders. And no pitcher could ever be successful in any game without his catcher.

What Eskin is actually referring to when he talks about "team sports" is the fact that sports like football and hockey and basketball are played with every person on the field/ice/court in constant motion. Baseball is generally a sport where only two people are in motion definitively -- the pitcher and catcher. Everyone else is waiting -- most of the time. When a play happens, of course, every fielder moves, but only one person at a time is able to move with the ball. My wife Marion says that she loves the game because it's about taking turns. Batters take turns. Fielders take turns with the ball. And teams take turns on offense and defense.

Eskin says baseball is an individual sport -- that no player acts except unto himself. This is bizarre. Every young outfielder is taught to back up the infielders in front of them. Pitchers know that they can't succeed without quality defense behind them. Runners can't score (except on homers) unless people are moving them forward with hits, bunts, well-placed grounders and sac flies.

In fact, baseball is in many ways both a team sport and an individual sport, isn't it? Pitchers and catchers are the center of attention more than 90% of the time taking turns with the ball. Fielders glove and throw as individuals. Hitters get their hits or outs all on their own. But at the same time, as I've already pointed out, there is the team level of the game as well. As a Little League level coach, the most important lesson you impart to kids about playing is that no one stands around whenever the ball is put in play. Everyone has a job to do. I've won more than my fair share of neighborhood league championships (correction: my teams have won their fair shares) because of this lesson. Backing up grounders and throws; covering bags in front of runners and behind them; throwing to the cutoff man; etc. is what learning the game is all about.

The sacrifice, of course, is the greatest act of team play. Giving yourself up to move a runner or to allow the guy on third to score by hitting to the right side of the infield or flying out to deep center is a true act of selflessness. And the game doesn't get any more interesting than on bunt plays.

In many ways, the struggle that Koufax has always had as a player seems to me to be the conflict between being considered the greatest pitcher of all-time (his last 5.5 years were truly, truly remarkable -- go here if you don't understand why some of us believe Koufax should get such consideration -- look at those last two years, esp the CG column...that's Complete Games) and knowing that the game is a team sport and that none of his accolades mean anything without acknowledgement of the players that made up his Dodger team all those years. He was an enigma to journalists and fans alike. He seemed to despise the limelight and the focus on him as an individual. Perhaps that is too simple a conclusion. Sandy Koufax is an intelligent, sensitive, deep thinking man. He had to understand this weird juxtaposition of the individual in the game and the team. The more people would mob him and try to take advantage of his star power, the more it must have just weirded him out that they didn't understand how connected his success was to his teammates -- and to the artistry of the game itself, and the dedicated craftsmanship it requires.


So, to me Howard Eskin is just wrong. Yes, baseball can be viewed as a strange game of individual accomplishment (and failure), but it is also an intricate and subtle example of a team sport in the truest, most artistic sense of the term. In fact, I personally would go one step further and suggest because of this, because it is possible to think of the game as nothing but an opportunity to be an individual, the team nature of the game makes it the ultimate team sport.

So what has this got to do with wood bats? Quite simply, because non-wood super bats allow players to get hits they shouldn't, they cheapen the team play aspect of the game. I've written here endlessly about how fun it is to watch young players "make the play" in wood games. And how pitiful it is to watch pop up home runs and jam shot singles that bloop over a corner infielder's head when someone is swinging a $400 magic bat. The very argument made by Little League in support of composite bats is that wood makes the game harder for hitters. But hitting with wood also makes it a better team sport since fielding is respected as much as hitting. Enough said.

Read Jane Leavy's Sandy Koufax. It's quite an intriguing and informative book. You'll never think of September 9th the same way again.

See you out there. Lefty's rule!

Harper Doing Well with Wood, But...

Going to minor league games this year, I've had the chance to see Bryce Harper at the plate several times. He is definitely a hungry hitter and can seriously put the full barrel on the ball. However, he doesn't yet have a good sense of baseball etiquette, and inevitably, if you ask me, that points to a kid who may still not understand the concept of being cool and confident.

Earlier this week is a case in point. Harper hit a whopper. It was a home game so the announcer really got into the shot and did the old "Going? Going! Gone!" routine while the kid stood admiring his dinger. This didn't make the pitcher happy, who had a few words for Harper as he began his trot. Finally, rounding third, Harper mimed a kiss at the pitcher as he trotted towards home plate. 

Some might think this funny or a bit of a shake for what is otherwise the doldrums of minor league ball. To me, there really isn't anything I should need to say except that if this is what we're going to see out of this kid it is a sad day for baseball and an even sadder day for the Nationals. And the baseball gods will sort it all out...

You can read about the whole scene in much more detail right here at Helium News. They've got some great links on the page to other stuff on the kid. I thought about posting the video, but I'm not going to give Harper any more attention than the TV does drunk, naked fans on the field.

One last thing: Harper's growing (grown?) a mustache. I really hope this isn't a trend in baseball...or anywhere else (although I think I'm wrong). I guess that will have you checking out the video. You can't win in this new media world can you? Shoot me if I ever grow another mustache. Please...

See you out there...

Of Things Gone By

The Friday night workout crew.

Read these thoughts I had last year as the draft approached and I was preparing for my second son to go out there into the world to see what he could find.

I drive on these nights, these long Friday nights of tending to my son, and let my heart drift out seeking the future, wondering what is actually going to happen to this kid. It is often past 10:00 as we leave the highway and coast down the exit ramp toward Spring Mill Road which is a main thoroughfare through the suburbs back into northwest Philadelphia. All is calm and quiet, somehow, as we re-enter our little world of Chestnut Hill and Mt. Airy. 

I’ve made it a habit of not turning on the radio while we do these trips. The three (or four) of us chat and deliberate. Usually by the time we are on Spring Mill Road gently navigating through stoplights and intersections, channeling along next to split level ranches and schools and parks, we are speaking quietly of the future, pondering Danny’s possibilities, Julya’s year next year with Jesse off somewhere, and Jesse’s chances in the draft. It is like we are observing the cover of a book with a beautiful illustration of a landscape filled with gentle, warm light and open roads and vistas of possibility. 

April 10, 2011

My core feels that everything will be all right for all three of these young people -- for all of Jesse's friends, in fact. I am filled with love for all of them. But I am filled with a sense of dread, too, and a weird kind of frustration. Regardless of the final outcome, the book we have been reading together is coming to an end. When I let myself think about it, I realize that I don’t want this to end in so many ways; I don’t want an outcome. I just want to keep on trying, continuing these drives, and our 90-minute training sessions with The Chucks, the staccato conversations with Danny between pitches, the sweet talks with Julya about how frustrating it is not to know what’s going to happen between her and her young baseball star boy friend. I want to just drive in the darkness and know that that book with its stunning cover is out there, and that my son is next to me, and that my love is still some use to him, and that he will stay innocent and hopeful by my side, and that his frustrations will never be truly painful because there is always tomorrow, and tomorrow will be full of infinite possibility and promise and all the roads to success are still open and still calling. 

If you have a young person playing ball, make sure to go watch them all you can. Be aware, while you sit in the stands, of how much you love them, and understand that these days will come to an end. The more you love them as they play, the more you will remember, and life may still feel sweet and promising whenever you see kids out on a ball field ... or pros even under the lights.

See you out there.

The Pickup Game Dilemma

The Sandlot gang, from the movie...

I just stumbled upon a website advocating the return of sandlot (or pickup) baseball. They even offer a numbered set of instructions on how to organize a sandlot game.

You hear the complaint a lot these days: "Kids don't play pickup games anymore. It's a different world. No wonder baseball is losing fans and there aren't as many talented players anymore."

There's no doubt all of this is true. But it really is a different world. Pickup baseball was a game for the 8 - 12 set back in the first six decades of the the 20th century.

All summer long we'd play every morning and afternoon before our organized teams had games in the evening. We were lucky. We had a field in a special private park that all the families in the neighborhood belonged to. Sometimes we'd get on our bikes or even walk to fields in our part of town to face off against other rag tag neighborhood teams. It was all spur of the moment, completely unorganized, and improvisational.

I'm not sure what the connection is between my love of the game and all those hours playing baseball until I was 13. I wonder in fact how much of my desire to play every day was a function of my love of the game and how much is the other way around. I know my three sons love the game more than I ever did and they hardly ever played pickup games as kids -- and all three are better at the game than anyone I ever knew growing up.

Conor Biddle at about 2

Something is lost, no doubt, because kids don't play the game that way anymore. A great deal is lost actually. But I'm not writing this to give a sermon on the benefits of free play. Major League Baseball has just announced a new initiative called "MLB is Always Epic." This program comes as a result of several studies indicating a reduction in participation by youth in the game. According to the National Sporting Goods Association, kids from 7 to 17 playing the game fell in numbers by 24% from 2000 - 2009. Football and ice hockey have increased their numbers dramatically. See the full MLB multi-media site here.

The reasons for this are obvious. More sports are played year round -- especially soccer and basketball. There are fewer baseball fields that kids have easy access to (think suburban sprawl where everything is drivable and not walkable). And the proliferation of media opportunities (from games to movies to FaceBook) certainly absorbs kids in ways impossible to imagine back there in 1968. (As an aside here, I wonder what the relationship between baseball video games and actually wanting to play baseball is).

Sam Biddle as a high school player

At the same time, baseball is a game of skill. It takes years to get good even as a pro. And in many ways it was a game that fathers taught their sons (and daughters, especially beginning the 1970s). My sons played the game in the backyard with me.

One of the greatest moments of my early days as a father was a Saturday afternoon at our neighborhood field with my 11-year-old son, Sam. We'd been playing catch for three or four years, but I'd had to baby the ball and ignore the fact that he struggled to consistently snag the ball with his mitt. That day was the first day I could just uncork and let the ball fly. On the other side of things, it was also the first time Sam understood he could the same thing back to me. We stood in a little section of the field with games going on in both corners just burning the ball at each other; practicing trick pitches; playing with our arm angles; throwing the ball on the run. (The next day my arm was killing me). That Saturday afternoon hour I was drawn back to the days I used to do the same thing with my brother and my father after dinner in our backyard. And, as the father of three, I have been so fortunate to do the same thing for the past 10 years with each boy as he got his baseball wings...and then on into his high school career.

But I don't have many friends who do the same with their kids. They love to go to games, even coach. They might occasionally play a little catch with Joey or Suzy, but for the most part, they just don't seem to find it in themselves to make the experience happen regularly. They depend on coaches, it seems, to teach their kids to play. Many of them are even all too happy to pay teachers at special baseball academies.

Now, I must admit that I didn't play catch with my dad every night every summer for five years. I imagine there were several days in a row for a week or two and then nothing for a year until we played again. But there was something important that happened when we played. I think it was the beginning of that approval thing, the mature version of it. There was a very interesting connection that seems like it was being transferred through the baseball going back and forth between us. I wanted to get better at the game to play with my friends, but I also knew in watching my dad how good you could get if you just kept maturing. And my dad had learned to play the game from his dad -- in sandlots and backyards, too, I'm sure.

My dad's job there was to start something up. He didn't need to finish it. There is, of course, no finishing up of baseball. I am sure I'm still playing with him in my dreams every night. I know my sons will play with me in their hearts when they are older and I am too. But I wonder about other kids. Some of my sons' friends have received the same inculcation (if I can use that term) from their dads for basketball or tennis or squash. But I wonder if it's the same thing. It all begins just with playing catch. Play catch with your dad at the right time in your life and the world opens up forever.

Check out a Wall Street Journal article on the supposed decline of interest in baseball here.

See you on the field! Bring the lumber and your mitt and a ball if you got one.

Minor League Spring Training Underway

Today, minor league players everywhere in grapefruit and cactus country are reporting to their respective training complexes for physicals, blood tests, and then their first true workouts for 2011. Some of these players, champing at the bit since October when they flew home from fall instructional league, have been hovering around their teams' training grounds for the past few weeks (or longer), working out some, but just waiting for today to come.

A few of these guys are tomorrow's stars. Some -- most -- are never going to make it. All of them get paid little more than $1,000 a month (before taxes, room and board are taken out) from April through August. Every one of them wants to be a big leaguer. Some have the talent but don't understand how hard it is to make it all the way. Others don't quite have what it takes, but hang on and struggle at all cost to make it. There are also guys in the mix who will work hard, stay focused, and continue to develop the talent that got them drafted and signed. Watching this play out is highly recommended. Every one of these guys is damned good...some are just going to figure out how to keep getting better and better.

Getting used to wood...and the sun.

It is confounding that so many people don't pay attention to minor league baseball. Every fan who goes to Florida and Arizona to watch spring training games for their favorite major league team also has the opportunity to check the back fields this March where they can see young players facing off and still learning how to play the game the right way. The youngest of these guys are still trying to get used to hitting with wood. Pitchers are finally getting a chance to try out the change-up they were never allowed to throw in college or high school. For the first time in their lives players get to spend everyday, all day working on fielding, base running, and throwing.

Sometimes the view is limited.

As the father of a pitcher, one of my favorite things to do is watch pitchers take fielding practice -- PFP. 50 - 100 reps a day fielding comebackers and bunts, throwing to first, spinning to fire a shot to second, flipping a gloved dribbler home, this is what being a pro is all about. You get to watch the big boys do this in February, but watching the young guys in March is more entertaining because they are still students and beginners. They learn, slowly, that it takes more than natural ability to perform consistently. Baseball is about skill. Fielding is a special kind of dance. Some guys figure this out. Others don't.

Brooklyn, N.Y. native Dellin Betances (Charlie Niebergall/AP)

So, if you're heading out for a long spring vacation to watch the Dodgers or the Mets or the Blue Jays under the warm sun of early spring, make sure you spend time on the back fields watching the youngsters learning the ropes. Even the most cocky of them is humble and honest when he's on the field trying to figure out how to move to the next level. You may get to chat a little with him or at least listen to him chatting with teammates. The joy they feel can be infectious. If you ask them for an autograph, they'll be honored. Some of them are going to have long, illustrious careers. Most won't, but they're all pros and they've all figured out that baseball is worth their sweat and their love.

See you out there.

Spring Training Day One

Spring training began today with pitchers and catchers reporting throughout Florida and Arizona (the Grapefruit and Cactus circuits, respectively). This is my first time to attend. I can safely say nothing happened. I was out there for two hours in the morning and then an hour and a half this afternoon.

I saw Cliff Lee and Ryan Madsen doing a short long-toss session around 10:30 this morning and a couple players running steps inside Bright House Field, but otherwise no one showed up for any of us to view (although Jesse Biddle and Brody Colvin showed up in Brody's white pickup truck to do a bit of throwing on one of the Carpenter Complex fields and were turned away).

What I did see, however, were interesting fans being...somewhat hilarious. I got to Richie Ashburn Field just before 10:00. There were a handful of fans peering through fences to see if any players might show up on the field. And then there was the group of mid-twenties yahoos dressed in Phillies garb to the nines, a bleacher level lined with brown dead soldier beer bottles. All five were chugging away on what had to be their third or fourth brews, yelping loudly, bragging about running over turtles and stomping on lizards at their hotel.

A security guard came over and told them in no uncertain terms that they were not allowed to have beer on the property. Actual surprise and dis-belief by the kids, then they packed up and galumphed out to the parking lot where they attempted to perform a quick, makeshift tailgate party...and were again, gently nudged off the property.

What I liked most was that here you had edgy, lost Philadelphians doing what they thought was just fine (drinking massive quantities of beer out in the open at 10:00 AM on a Sunday morning in front of several families with young kids) and we also had security guards gently and matter of factly shooing them away. Not a hint of disgust, anger, or hostility coming from these wise and gentle men. Not even incredulity or surprise (I'm sure they've seen it time and time again over the years). It was goofy and a reminder that I might have driven 1,018 miles south of Philadelphia but that Philly still lives where ever I go, but it was also a very intelligent and wise moment of grace by these men facing down these fools.

I wish I'd had enough Philly in me to take a picture. It was truly funny and sweet at the same time.

Autograph Seekers, waiting...

As soon as Lee and Madsen finished throwing, one of the dads in the group started yelling across the field, "Cliff! Ryan! Are you signing today?" The guy didn't get that he needed to be standing up at the top of the field near the player's parking lot waiting for autographs. "Come on! Cliff? Ryan? Are you guys signing?" He picked up his kid and pointed to him then held up a ball. I was actually more offended by this behavior (a Philly transplant by the way) than the beer drinking fluffheads.

All of this struck me. I was there because I love the game and because I love this team and because this team loves Jesse Biddle. I love baseball more than anything else in life. Everyone was gone by 10:45 but I sat there on those bleachers just staring at the empty fields, feeling the sun on my face and the wind coming out of the east rustle my hair and I felt so content and quiet.

Monday morning's crowd got an eye full. 

But what was it that so enveloped autograph hounds and party animals alike to show up and be so frivolously demonstrative? What do people need out of this behavior and this frenzied buzz of exuberance that they could let themselves be so doggedly willing to come so close to the line over which is self-debasement? I'm not asking out of a sense of superiority or as if I'm the adult in the game of baseball. I'm not an adult, for sure. But the dedication to collecting or to being drunk off your ass at 10:00 on a Sunday morning and there for the start of yet another season for your team... ? Wow. Amazing.

See you out there bright and early tomorrow morning. Wear sunscreen.

End of Composite Bat Offenses?

New performance standards for non-wood bats are now in effect in the NCAA. These same rules will have an impact on high school players beginning in 2012.  Baseball America's fabulous little 32-page online publication called Bat Guide came out in November and there's no better resource. It's all there. You couldn't ask for anything more comprehensive and intelligent.

The new operating term is Batted Ball Coefficient of Restitution (BBCOR). The old Ball Exit Speed Ratio (BESR) just wasn't a good enough test for high-tech, hollow composite super bats. The NCAA knew they had a problem and outlawed these bats in 2009 when it became clear that over time they got hotter and that, in fact, players had learned how to "roll" their bats mechanically to break down the interior support systems that limited the trampoline effect. 

With the rolling problem in mind, bats must now also pass a test called the Accelerated Break-in (ABI) test. Go here to the Baseball Research Center at the University of Massachusetts - Lowell website for more on both the BBCOR and the ABI tests.

The old BESR was supposed to limit the speed of the ball coming off a bat to no more than 97 mph. But with break-in and rolling, coaches were seeing balls travel 105 - 110 mph regularly. Not a huge difference -- maybe 5% or so, but still, when milliseconds and inches count, far too much power for the safety of fielders and pitchers. 

Here's the most salient points to all these changes in a nutshell:

1. All NCAA players must switch to the BBCOR standards for composite bats this year. Composite bats, in theory, will now be no different than wood ones (caution: we've heard this before).

2. The National Federation of State High School Associations (NFHS) has decided to allow a one year grace period for these changes. The old BESR standard bats will still be legal in 2011. Come 2012, though, high school players too will need to use BBCOR standardized bats. See the NFHS website for a list of bats acceptable this year only.

3. If you're a young hitter and you're interested in playing with the big boys, it's time to upgrade your bat. Don't wait for 2012. When it's cold out, use wood (of course), but if you feel like you need to use metal, swing a new BBCOR and understand that hitting is not about the bat but the hitter.

Here's a good place to start looking for the new bats online:

JustBats.com

Why does this matter? For starters, the new performance standards for composite material bats in college have dramatically reduced the oomph that the old super bats had. In a September Baseball America article, "Knock on Wood," Augie Garrido (Texas Longhorns) is quoted as saying: "..we might have hit 15 or 20 balls out in batting practice before, we're now hitting five or six balls out..." See this video from the North Texas Baseball Academy for a good synopsis of the rules.

It's very likely then that not only will home runs diminish in NCAA baseball, but fielding will again become a premium in the game...and speed...and pitching. Nice, huh? It is, if you like baseball...

Implications for Amateur Baseball?
To me there are two interesting outcomes to all of this so far. The first is that the NCAA has still not made any real effort to re-examine going back to wood bats. Changes were supposedly made to bat standards in the early 2000s that fixed the super bat problem. Very possibly the industry (and its marketing directors) figured out, slowly, how to get around the problem by engineering bats that would pass initial tests and then get hotter over time. Perhaps this wasn't wholly intentional. Or perhaps, like steroids, when one company began the process everyone else realized they needed to join in or lose out. It would be nice to see -- when the industry slowly works its way around these new rules (because it probably will) -- the NCAA at least consider moving to some version of wood bats (I'm going to post something here shortly on a number of new wood-based bats that are less prone to breakage).

The other point that sticks out is that there is more than a tacit admission by coaches who have a problem with these changes that the "nuclear sticks" of old (2009 and before) were indeed blessed with powers that made the offensive game truly offensive (to many of us). While it seems like the majority of college and high school coaches understand and agree that hot bats pollute the game, there are a number of holdouts (I've chosen not to identify them, but if you do some research online you'll be able to track many of them down) who -- legitimately concerned about the popularity of college baseball -- point out that there's a chance fans will lose interest in the game because there aren't enough long balls.

I suppose it all really remains to be seen -- and Little League Baseball should take note of this -- are home runs exciting because there are so many of them, or because they are rare and exemplify profound skill?

And should we just tell pitchers when they go out there: "Tough luck, kid. You know as well as anyone that we want to see as many hits as possible. If it's going to increase the chances that you get a serious injury -- or die -- at least you're helping out with ticket sales." The NCAA and NFHS have done something very intelligent and revolutionary here. Let's hope the bat industry has learned it's lesson. Next time around, I'm predicting the only real solution is returning to wood.

See you out on the field real soon. 

Big Leaguer in the Making...note wood bats

 

This post is a draft of a video that Conor Biddle, Jesse's brother, is working on. Intelligent comments and critiques are welcome. Quality of this image is reduced while Conor continues to perfect his work. Sorry...

South Philadelphia Field of Dreams

Check out this video clip on Steve Koplove's Sunoco Field, home of the Philadelphia Senators. Jesse Biddle, Tyler Young, Slater McCue, Jon McAllister, and Ed Rooney, to name just a few learned to play with their hair on fire right here in the heart of the city's famed oil refinery complex.

See you on the field.

Call It Prescience

I have become the father of a professional pitcher. A professional left-handed pitcher, to be precise. Jesse Biddle is now pitching for the Gulf Coast League Phillies out of Clearwater, Florida. He's trying to earn his living sawing off wood bats and making batters whiff with wood in their hands.

We watched pieces of the college world series over the past two weeks. It made me sick watching pop flies to the outfield sail over the home run fence. Batters all excited along with their teammates left me sad and bereft, as if someone were dangling the game of baseball over a sea of stomach acid and half-eaten hot dogs and popcorn crumbs.

Jesse went pro and gave up a life-changing experience at the University of Oregon where he probably would have been the Duck's ace starter by his sophomore year -- if not earlier as a freshman. It would have been a phenomenal and heart-warming experience to take that sojourn before turning to professional baseball. But he also would have been throwing 120-140 pitches a game and learning to focus on pitches that literally can't be hit because with metal the only solution is to not let a batter touch the ball.

You need the same approach in pro baseball, of course. As a pitcher, you can't help thinking that it's a severe slight against you as a player that anyone would touch your fastball. But at the same time, pro hitters are the best of the best -- even in the GCL. Good hitters find a way of making contact. And wood is different than metal. It's predictable. Unless a hitter truly barrels up on the ball with full force, most times contact isn't true and the ball gets fielded for an out.

You learn, I am told, not so much to pitch to contact, as to pitch at the batter's weaknesses. This is the way the game is meant to be played. A .300 average in pro baseball on any level is a good average. In college, it's what 7 and 8 hole hitters should expect.

Yesterday, Jesse pitched a fine 1-2-3 first followed by a glitchy second giving up a homer, hitting a batter and then giving up a triple...before settling down to three straight outs and then another three straight in the third. The homer surprised him. It was a big-time downtown shot and the report is that he and his catcher exchanged big-eyed "Wows!" as the batter jogged the base path. On the phone yesterday afternoon Jesse said, "My catcher called for a fastball inside and set up perfectly to get that sucker out. And I just threw it right down the middle." He giggled. "Wham! See ya!" It took the kid two more batters to settle down. And he gave up his first runs since April pitching as a high schooler. What strikes me though is that Jesse knew he'd been had by the batter and knew he deserved what he got. I imagine if he were to watch film of his efforts he'd see what he did wrong. And he'd also see that the triple was legit as well. But he'd also see real hitters focused on not letting him take advantage of them.

In college they run 'em out to 120--140 pitches, like I said. Yesterday with the GCL Phillies, Jesse ran up to a pitch count of about 45 and he was done for the day. What's most important here is to see that the pitcher knows he made mistakes and that good hitters took advantage of those mistakes. If he'd been throwing against metal, it would have been impossible to know how much was mistake and how much the magic bat.

See you out there on the field.


Thanks to Joe Wombough for the photo! Keep takin' 'em Joe!