Their job is to protect and defend, and it is often thankless. Do your job right, and no one seems to notice. But slip up once or twice and watch how quickly things change.
There is no more dramatic moment in the game than when the bullpen door swings open in the ninth inning. Exit closer, enter drama.
It's a scene which takes place 50 or more times for a contending team. How well the closer fares goes a long way in determining the success of his team.
Just ask the New York Yankees, who've ridden the brilliant relief work of Mariano Rivera to the last three World Series titles.
Just ask the Kansas City Royals, who've converted fewer than half of their save opportunities the last two seasons and have been also-rans in their own division.
Everyone agrees that good closers are paramount for championship-level teams. What isn't so obvious is why there are so few good ones.
Rivera is in a class by himself, particularly when his postseason work is factored in. Trevor Hoffman of San Diego has been both durable and consistent. Robb Nen is among the best, as well.
But for the most part, closers are notoriously streaky, like NHL goaltenders and NFL placekickers -- unsinkable one season, unreliable the next.
|  | | Mariano Rivera has averaged 40 saves per season over the last four years, but he's been most dominant during the postseason. |
Closers come and go. Take a look at the saves leaders in the American League. The unlikely leader with 42 was Detroit's Todd Jones, in his eighth major-league season and with his second organization.
Before last year, Jones had never been selected for an All-Star team. Only once before had he recorded more than 30 saves.
Next was Derek Lowe, who was in his first full season as closer. Next was Kazuhiro Sasaki, a former standout in Japan who was in his first season in the major leagues. After Rivera (fourth), came Keith Foulke, who had set-up the previous year, then John Wetteland, who after a standout career, may retire because of back troubles.
The NL list is no less full of newcomers and unprovens after Hoffman and Nen. There's Antonio Alfonseca, who emerged as the Marlins' go-to guy in his fourth season, Armando Benitez, who had to change cities to find success as a relief savior, and Danny Graves, who was part of a committee for the Reds.
In short, there are few pitchers who are automatic. After Rivera and Hoffman, who are the modern-day equivalents of Rollie Fingers, Goose Gossage or Dennis Eckersley -- pitchers who routinely dominate for an extended period?
"I don't have an answer for that," said Kevin Towers, general manager of the San Diego Padres, who considers himself fortunate to have Hoffman in the role. "I don't know why there aren't more guys who do it, year-in and year-out. I guess part of it is that it's really a pressure-cooker and there aren't many guys ready to handle it.
"That's why you see guys disappear off the map. One year, they're The Man, and the next year ..."
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Last line of defense
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Projected closers for all 30 major-league teams heading into this season. Numbers include the 2001 season:
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Pitcher
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Team
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Yrs. in majors
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Yrs. as closer
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Hernandez
|
K.C.
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11
|
8
|
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Hoffman
|
S.D.
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9
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8
|
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Nen
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S.F.
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9
|
8
|
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Jones
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Det.
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9
|
6
|
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Percival
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Ana.
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7
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6
|
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Mesa
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Phi.
|
13
|
5
|
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Shaw
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L.A.
|
12
|
5
|
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Rivera
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NYY
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7
|
5
|
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Urbina
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Mon.
|
7
|
5
|
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Wagner
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Hou.
|
6
|
5
|
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Wickman
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Cle.
|
10
|
4
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Benitez
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NYM
|
8
|
4
|
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Mantei
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Ari.
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6
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4
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Gordon
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ChC
|
13
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3
|
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Williams
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Pitt.
|
10
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3
|
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Veres
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St.L
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8
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3
|
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Graves
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Cin.
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6
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3
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Isringhausen
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Oak.
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6
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3
|
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Alfonseca
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Fla.
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5
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3
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Rocker
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Atl.
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4
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3
|
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Koch
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Tor.
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3
|
3
|
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Leskanic
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Mil.
|
9
|
2
|
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Hawkins
|
Min.
|
7
|
2
|
|
Foulke
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ChW
|
5
|
2
|
|
Lowe
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Bos.
|
5
|
2
|
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Jimenez
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Col.
|
4
|
2
|
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Kohlmeier
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Bal.
|
2
|
2
|
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Sasaki
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Sea.
|
2
|
2
|
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Crabtree
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Tex.
|
7
|
1
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Yan
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T.B.
|
6
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1
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The next year, they're Jose Mesa. Almost out of nowhere, Mesa rose to the top of his profession in 1995 after six largely undistinguished seasons, spent as a starter and middle man.
In 1995, when the Cleveland Indians began their run of five straight division titles and playoff appearances, Mesa saved 46 games in 48 tries, a remarkable conversion rate, and compiled a 1.13 ERA. He was nearly as good the next season, with 39 saves in 44 opportunities.
But in 1997, off-field problems and injuries limited him to 16 saves, and when Mesa couldn't protect a ninth-inning lead in Game 7 of the World Series that would have given Cleveland it's first championship in almost 50 years, his career began a downward spiral.
Since then, Mesa has been with two other organizations (San Francisco and Seattle) and begins with a third (Philadelphia) this week.
"The pressure gets to these guys," said one general manager. "They might have tremendous stuff, but they're not able to handle adversity. They lose it, and then they can't get that edge back."
A generation ago, closers enjoyed brief careers before suffering physical burnout. Dick Radatz stands as a perfect example. For four brilliant years, Radatz' star shone brightly with the Red Sox. He notched 100 saves over that span, twice leading the league while averaging in excess of a strikeout per inning.
But, oh, those innings -- Radatz threw 537 1/3 of them from 1962-65.
"I remember throwing 15 in the span of two days," he joked recently.
He paid a heavy price. Three years later, Radatz was done, the victim of baseball's then-cavalier approach toward the long-term health and well-being of its pitchers.
Radatz, and countless others like him, were burned out. The same can't be said in this age of specialization, when closers rarely are used before the ninth inning and then, only in save situations.
"They're protected more than ever," marvels an executive for one NL club. "(Bruce) Sutter and Gossage were asked to pitch three innings in back-to-back games. You never see that anymore."
You also never see that sustained dominance. Despite what some consider coddling -- with set-up men, lefty specialists, etc -- pitchers continue to streak, then crash.
In 1998, Tom Gordon was as effective as any closer in either league, going 46-for-47 for the Boston Red Sox. A year later, Billy Wagner of the Houston Astros was just as dependable, with 39 protected leads in 42 save situations.
Each fell victim to an elbow injury, traceable to their participation in the major league All-Star annual exhibition trip to Japan.
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“ |
I
don't know why there aren't more guys who do it,
year-in and year-out. I guess part of it is that it's
really a pressure-cooker and there aren't many
guys ready to handle it. That's why you see guys
disappear off the map. One year, they're The Man,
and the next year
... ” |
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— Kevin Towers, Padres GM |
"Part of it," theorized Towers, "has got to be the increased offense you see everywhere. That puts more strain on these guys. You see fewer lineups with easy outs. In the AL, you've got the DH and you've got 25-30 homer guys in the eighth spot. One through nine, you get no breather. That takes a toll."
With no easy outs, the relentless pressures of a pennant race and the expectations -- economic and otherwise -- make it imperative that closers be as tough mentally as they are with their stuff.
"Rivera has ice running through his veins," marveled an executive from an AL team.
Hoffman, noted Towers, gets by as much on guile as gas, using his changeup as an out pitch.
"He's kind of the Greg Maddux of closers," Towers said. "He's not a power guy, but he knows his strengths and weaknesses. Your good closers are pretty sharp above the shoulders."
They're also, comparatively speaking, underpaid. Despite their obvious importance, no closer cracks the list of the 20 highest-paid players in the game, a list dominated by starters (Mike Hampton, Mike Mussina, Pedro Martinez, Kevin Brown, Roger Clemens), sluggers (Manny Ramirez, Mo Vaughn, Mike Piazza, Ken Griffey, Jr.) and shortstops (Derek Jeter, Alex Rodriguez).
While it can be argued that Rivera has been nearly as important as Jeter in the Yankees' championship reign, the latter got a 10-year deal worth $19 million annually, while the former is likely to soon "settle" for a one-year, $10 million pact and sits just nine months from free agency.
Nen and Hoffman are the next highest-paid in the group, but there's a disconnect when it comes to compensation: If closers are so valuable and no contender can do without one, why are they paid so little?
"Because not many guys are worth the long-time investment and not many do it well for an extended period," said another GM. "They don't amass a lot of service time in the role, so it's difficult for them to earn top dollar."
Therein lies the contradiction -- the job is as difficult as any in the game, but because of the demands and pressures involved, few can do it for a long period of time, forcing teams to experiment with the role which often is critical to their success.
"If you have a good one," Towers said, speaking from experience, "you'd better hold onto him."
Sean McAdam of the Providence Journal writes a major-league notebook each week during the baseball season for ESPN.com.
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