7/29/08
Who is more afraid of a 0-2 count, the hitter or the pitcher?
The fact this question is even asked speaks to the mindset of many coaches and, in turn, pitchers. I have played on more teams where 0-2 was such an undesirable count for a pitcher that the coach/pitcher may as well have asked the umpire to go ahead and make it 1-2. I even played on one team where the coach would fine a pitcher if he gave up a 0-2 base hit. With apologies for bluntness, this idea is an absolute crock.
Should a coach be less angry if his pitcher misses down the middle on 1-2? Should a pitcher be angry if a player hits a missile on a 0-2 pitch down and in but out of the zone? Pitching is difficult enough without having a coach playing kickball in your head, planting not one, but two seeds. The first is the notion that the 0-2 pitch must be in a different area code. The second is that it is a mortal sin to go from 0-2 to a walk. With that, the pitcher who consistently pounds the strike zone suddenly has three pitches to work with (1-2, 2-2, 3-2).
Coaches are extremely hypocritical on this topic. As a pitcher, you hear “nothing too good” on 0-2 and suddenly hear, “put him away” on 1-2. In turn, catchers hear the same thing and end up (literally) standing up and blocking the umpire, asking their pitcher to throw a pitch two feet out of not just the strike zone, but out of the zone where a hitter with even the slightest clue would swing. This creates two problems: first, if a pitcher consistently misses badly (or misses well, if you ask a coach) with his 0-2 pitches, an umpire will come to expect it. Second, a batter will come to expect it as well. In cases like these, as mentioned above, you may as well cash it in, save your arm and ask the ump to make it 1-2.
A recent article showed that the MLB batting average on 0-2 was .168. The average went up with each successive ball. With that in mind, why give a .168 hitter a chance to see another pitch? As a pitcher, you have to throw the pitch that will be somewhat enticing to a hitter, at least on its path to the plate—a two-seam fastball off of the plate inside or a curveball that lands on the plate—where the best a batter will usually do is hit a foul ball or swing and miss.
In simplistic terms, throw a pitch you’re comfortable with location-wise, and one that, at worst, sets up the next pitch. If you aren’t comfortable throwing inside or your control with your curveball isn’t great, work away to entice a batter to roll over a ball. Remember, even in Major League Baseball, the hitters in a 0-2 count only succeed 1.68 times out of ten. I’ll take those odds all day.
Bottom line: 0-2 is a great thing for a pitcher and should be taken advantage of accordingly.
5/24/08
AN OPEN LETTER TO ALL COACHES
Coaches:
Summer baseball season has arrived, meaning the time for multiple games per week will soon be upon us. During these games, I ask that you not put your pitchers in the difficult position of having to decide whether they are tired, still have their stuff, and most importantly, whether their arm is sore. As a coach, you have a very difficult job of removing a kid’s feelings (as well as his parents) from the equation. Ask any competitor whether he can pitch another inning or face hitter, and he’ll nod yes. Here is the problem: it is your decision. Asking your pitcher is a copout and a way not to place blame elsewhere. Assuming we are in agreement and you’ll continue to read, let’s explore how we as coaches come to the decision of when to remove a pitcher.
Pitch counts are the obvious barometer, and a very good one, but there are subtle nuances that go with each pitch in each situation. A fundamental understanding of different types of pitches is essential. I do not mean curveball, fastball, changeup, etc, but rather, the levels of stress associated with particular pitches. Ask yourself this question: will a pitcher who throws 50 of his 75 pitches with runners on base in a close game feel the same as a pitcher who is coasting and throws nearly all of his 75 pitches with no one on base and a big lead? I would argue that “stressed” pitches, or ones where a pitcher is at max effort, should be taken into consideration when deciding whether to take your pitcher out. Is it really worth injuring a kid’s arm by leaving him in for just one more batter?
With apologies for bluntness, the idea of “guts”, “stones”, or…. (rhymes with halls), is simply ridiculous at an amateur level. Nothing frustrates me more than hearing a coach talk about a guy who “stepped up” and threw a 150 pitch complete game. Let’s leave these situations to the professionals. There is a time for a starter to take one for the taxed bullpen and that time is when he is earning at least the Major League minimum. The same idea applies to closers or, for that matter, any reliever put into a situation where he has to make multiple appearances in a short time.
The truly difficult part of being a coach is that you have to manage the larger idea of a long season with individual situations that result in wins and losses. You can’t protect your pitchers at all costs and lose every game. You also can’t throw the same pitcher out there every game. The solution, in my opinion, is as follows:
1) Teach your pitchers to throw strikes and use the pitch count as a motivating factor. Can a pitcher throw a 75 pitch complete game (note that this number is hypothetical and not a recommended pitch count)? Absolutely, especially in a seven inning game.
2) Employ the Crash Davis (Bull Durham) philosophy to save pitches: “Relax, all right? Don't try to strike everybody out. Strikeouts are boring! Besides that, they're fascist. Throw some ground balls - it's more democratic.”
3) Observe, observe, observe- There is a big difference between a tired pitcher and a pitcher who is sore/injured. You can push a tired pitcher; you should remove a sore/injured pitcher.
4) Think about the current pitcher on the mound, not the next pitcher- Don’t leave a pitcher in the game (again, in situations where the pitcher is at his limit) just because he is your best option.
5) The decision is yours- You are the coach, which-for better or worse- gives you the final say in the matter. If a parent wants to complain, so be it.
If you need further reinforcement, I would recommend looking up the many articles written by Rick Peterson, New York Mets pitching coach. As always, I’m happy to answer any questions and welcome your comments. You can reach me at bchbum9@aol.com.
Regards,
Andrew Margolick
4/16/08
ACT LIKE YOU’VE BEEN THERE BEFORE
The old adage “you never get a second chance to make a first impression” holds true in many ways on the baseball field but especially so on the mound. Watch any Major League Baseball game where a pitcher makes even the slightest negative expression on a borderline pitch and see what happens on the following pitch. Admittedly, I haven’t seen any statistical proof, but I would be willing to bet what’s left of my arm that the umpire is not raising his hand to call a strike.
By the same token, a pitcher who consistently takes the ball back on a borderline pitch without reaction will expand the zone by game’s end. Tom Glavine gets an extra inch or two off of the outside corner for two reasons: first, he pounds the same spot all game and second, he is devoid of emotion. If a camera were to focus on his face the entire game, it would be impossible to guess whether he is getting the borderline calls. He is the consummate poker player on the mound.
The examples above hold true at any level of baseball, probably more so at the amateur level. Today’s advice… act like you’ve been there before. The simple and unfortunate reality is that you will never get the pitch you just threw back. With that in mind, why become a drama queen? At best, you might motivate yourself in some strange way. At worst, you will lose the person who needs to be your biggest ally, the umpire.
With apologies to umpires, they are not perfect, hear everything, and as such, are open to rewarding silence. For you younger readers, imagine all of your classmates yelling at a teacher all day, telling him or her that the writing on the board wasn’t neat enough, or that the class ran 30 seconds too long. Inevitably, the teacher is going to talk to (reward) the person who is sitting quietly and not complaining. Whether to spite an overly talkative coach/dugout/batter or because he truly believes the pitch was a strike, an umpire is going to give the benefit of the doubt to the pitcher. As with everything else in the game of baseball, any one instance of getting a call could change the outcome of a game. The extra inch or two off of the plate results in adjustments by hitters, more favorable counts and most importantly, fewer pitches (next column’s discussion).
Questions or comments about this column? Email Andrew Margolick at bchbum9@aol.com
3/18/08
LYING TO YOURSELF ON THE MOUND
Between the ages of 14 and 24, combining high school, summer, college and professional baseball, I would guess that I made 250 starts. I had great stuff roughly 25 times and good to very good stuff 50 times. (Taking into account the fact that I was injured during the latter part of my career and backing into a normal trend, the number doubles for someone who is not injured.)
Personally, that left 175 starts where I had to “figure it out.” One can always argue that you find what is working on that particular day and fight through the game. The reality of pitching, however, is this: lying to yourself is a good thing and the most important mental tool that any pitcher possesses. You absolutely must believe that you have your best stuff in each and every outing. Drilling down further, you have to believe that each pitch you throw is going to achieve the desired result, be it a batter rolling over a ball for a double play or a pitch that re-establishes the plate.
The exercise itself sounds easy but is not. An effective lie, in the general sense, requires a good delivery in addition to what is actually being said. In baseball terms, you must convince your body that your mind is telling the truth. Second guessing yourself will usually result in whiplash of some sort, like watching a ball sail into the gap or over the fence.
With apologies to those non-believers, there is a strange, karmic bond between the mind and the hand releasing the pitch. An unfettered belief in a particular pitch will magically add a few inches of movement or the extra mile per hour that leads to a long fly ball instead of to a home run. I would argue that the difference between any two pitches is as much mental as it is mechanical.
As this is limited to one column, I will avoid discussing lying about hitters (that every one of them is terrible and doesn’t belong on the same field), catchers (that they call the best games and are as knowledgeable as they come) and fielders (that every single one will be multiple Gold Glove winners). I will leave you with this thought (applicable to baseball only, of course): the absolute truth is irrelevant; what you believe to be true at each moment, on each pitch is, in fact, the truth.