Games » Chicago White SoxMay3
Neither Trey Hillman nor Gil Meche will ever admit that Meche’s 132-pitch game from last season is still having an effect, but you’ve got to wonder. (For the record, that’s the first time I’ve used ‘nor’ in a sentence, but if Microsoft thinks it’s a good idea … anything to get that little paper clip to shut the @#%*! up.)
On their side of the argument is the fact that he seems to be healthy and have velocity. On the other side is his general performance since.
I’ve got no clue and no way of ever getting one, but I do believe in pitch counts. Playing in amateur leagues, I’ve seen some crazy stuff, like 150 pitches on opening day from a guy who probably did nothing to get ready. Opening day was also last day of the season for him.
I’ve become firmly convinced that you can violate the 100-120 rule of thumb, but you’re going to pay. When I first began managing I paid no attention to it and watched two guys with more heart than sense ruin their arms. That was my fault, out of ignorance I stood by and watched and accepted their assurances that they were, “OK”.
Yeah, OK right now, but what about tomorrow, next week, next month, next year? Good pitchers are competitors and never want to come out of a game. They’re like the Black Knight in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, “Just a scratch.”
Someone with more sense and the ability to count to 100, needs to make that decision. I read a Sports Illustrated article about arm injuries and it said a pitcher who was perfectly healthy at 120 pitches could need surgery at 125.
They get tired, their arm falls into different slots and new and different torque starts being applied to joints. Unfortunately arms don’t come with a count-down number built in…”You have seven more pitches before injury”…so better too soon than too late.
I’m in an abusive relationship…
It started when I was hitting at a local batting cage and I was approached by a stranger who asked if it was true that I was getting ready to go to Royals Fantasy Camp. I said yes and he said, “Well, you’re not going to have much fun with that swing.”
That’s how I met Russ Morman. He played for Wichita State, the White Sox, the Royals and the Marlins and is currently a hitting coach in the minor leagues.
Russ has become my own personal hitting instructor and over the years he’s given me such inspiring advice as, “quit”, “you’re too old” and “give up”. That’s advice from a professional, folks, and you can use that on your kids, if you like.
He once told me I was one of those players with “loft” and when I asked what that might be, he said, “lack of f–– talent.”
Don’t get me wrong, I get my shots in, too. I call him the “world’s most depressing hitting coach” and inquire how many of his players are currently on suicide watch. I look for any chance to embarrass him, like the time he hit a triple and arrived at third base with an abnormal bulge on his kneecap.
I was coaching third and freaked. I thought he’d dislocated something, but when he insisted he was fine and we should just ignore it, I knew something was up and it was probably humiliating and therefore should examined as closely and loudly as possible.
I called time and said I might have a hurt player. Russ was getting red in the face and starting to laugh, so I knew I had him and wouldn’t let him slough it off. He finally confessed that his jock had broken and his protective cup was now protecting his left knee. Of course, I loudly announced that to everyone within earshot.
He got me back last night, though. We had a long rambling conversation about baseball, running this system, Dick Allen and Frank Howard and then I made a fatal mistake. I told him in my last at-bat I thought I was drifting into the ball and asked for a hitting tip.
“Sell your bats on E-Bay.”
I felt like Tim Wakefield after serving up a knuckler that didn’t knuckle. I had whiplash from watching that one leave the park.
While I was trying to figure out how to get back at him, I looked up his current team. He’d told me he was going to Richmond, but, curiously enough, didn’t mention the team name. Gee…I wonder why?
That’s because Russ Morman is now a FLYING SQUIRREL!!! I now know how every rip-session we’ll ever have in the future will end, “Well, at least I was never a FLYING SQUIRREL!!!”
Ball’s in your court, dude.
Intentional bases on balls are not counted in this system, that’s strategy, not a failure.
Getz’s outstanding play was diving over a base stealer and keeping Kendall’s throw on the infield. It kept the runner from getting to third with one out and is the kind of effort that wins close ball games…unfortunately, this wasn’t a close ballgame.
And, finally, MLB scores a strike them out, throw them out as a double play and this system just gives two points to the catcher for throwing out a runner.