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| Tuesday, June 3 Loose cannons sometimes go astray By Rob Neyer ESPN.com |
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Control. For a pitcher on a baseball field, it means throwing the ball where he wants to throw it. For the rest of us, it means something quite different.
But for a pitcher, might not both meanings of "control" come into play? Looking back through the last half-century of baseball history, it's not hard to find pitchers with at least two sorts of "control problems": on the field, and off. In the current issue of ESPN The Magazine, Tom Friend writes about Angels farmhand Bobby Jenks, who frequently throws 100 mph but almost as frequently doesn't know where the ball's going to make landfall. He's got the proverbial million-dollar arm ... and the proverbial 10-cent head to go along with it. You'd like to think (and the Angels would really like to think) that if Jenks can get smarter and wiser -- he's got a 10th-grade education and mutilated himself with a lighter a couple of years ago -- he'll also figure out how to throw strikes. Maybe he will. Or maybe it's Jenks' 10-cent head that lets him have a million-dollar arm. Crazy? Maybe. But let's consider the careers of four hard-throwing pitchers who had trouble controlling both their fastballs and themselves.
How hard did Duren throw? Nobody used radar guns in those days, but Duren once told interviewer Dom Forker, "Anyway, I don't know how fast I threw, but I do know that Mantle told me I was the fastest he ever saw. And Tony Kubek said I threw harder than Nolan Ryan." Even at his best, Duren often didn't know where the ball was going. He walked 43 batters in both 1958 and '59. But in 1960, still recovering from a broken arm he'd suffered the season before, Duren walked 49 batters in 49 innings. He still struck out as many as ever, but all those walks led to a 4.96 ERA. Duren would pitch for five more seasons, but continued to struggle with his control and never again pitched like he had in those first two seasons with the Yankees. Injuries were undoubtedly a problem, but so was alcoholism. Talking about his arm, Duren told Forker, "In 1960, I didn't have the proper strength in it. By the end of 1960, the strength came back and it was strong in 1961. But by that time ... I was boozing quite a bit and my body was beginning to deteriorate. ... That's why the Yankees got rid of me in 1961."
Control, though? You remember that scene in Bull Durham, in the manager's office after Nuke LaLoosh's first professional start?
Manager: "17 strikeouts." That was Steve Dalkowski. (Ron Shelton, who wrote and directed Bull Durham, actually spent a few years playing in the Orioles' farm system.) In 1959, Earl Weaver managed Dalkowski in Class A. And as Weaver wrote in his autobiography,
... Dalkowski was our star whenever he managed to locate home plate. But he let the booze destroy what could have been an unbelievable career. I had to get him out of jail four times in three years, and no matter what I told him about the damage he was doing to his talent and his health, I couldn't reach him. If he'd only had the head to go with that astounding arm of his!" Dalkowski pitched in the minor leagues for nine seasons, but he never pitched in the majors because he never could learn to throw the ball over the plate with any sort of consistency.
April 28, 1991: After recording the final out in his save of the Reds 4-3 win over the Cubs, Cincinnati pitcher Rob Dibble takes the ball from catcher Joe Oliver and hurls it into the center field bleachers, where it strikes Meg Porter, a 27-year-old first-grade teacher. Dibble later apologizes for his tantrum, saying, "I have to mature. I have to come to grips with it." The righthander will receive a 4-game suspension for his actions. While Dibble sometimes didn't show much control of his actions, early in his career he did show plenty of control with his pitches. From 1989 through 1992, Dibble pitched 350 innings, in which he struck out 511 batters while walking only 129. And that was virtually the end of Dibble's career. In 1993, he walked 42 batters in 42 innings on his way to a 6.48 ERA. Then came surgery on his rotator cuff, which caused him to miss the entire 1994 season. He returned to the majors in 1995 but walked 46 batters in 26 innings, and so ended his big-league career.
Indeed. Like Dibble, Rocker was almost an immediate sensation. In 1999, his first full season with the Braves, Rocker pitched 72 innings and struck out 104 hitters. In his second, Rocker pitched 53 innings and struck out 77 hitters. Of course, that second season included a two-week suspension, levied against Rocker for the inflammatory comments he made to a Sports Illustrated reporter. And not long after Rocker's spectacular loss of personal control, his pitching control took a sharp downturn as well. Upon returning to the Braves after serving his suspension, Rocker walked 48 hitters in 53 innings (but still managed to post a 2.89 ERA). The next season (2001), Rocker walked 41 hitters in 67 innings. At this moment, Rocker's career is in serious danger. So, you're asking, can we conclude something substantial from these four rudimentary case studies? Are you kidding? It's only four pitchers, and we certainly haven't proved any sort of link between a pitcher's control of his pitches and his control of everything else. History is replete with examples of alcoholic pitchers who didn't have any trouble at all throwing strikes (at least when they were sober). Still, doesn't it seem at least possible that a link does, in fact, exist? That perhaps the very lack of personal control that allows a pitcher to fling his body into a "violent wind-up" might result in self-destruction, either on or off the field? Today is draft day. And there's a reason why teams look at not only a young pitcher's arm, but also his head. Senior writer Rob Neyer writes four columns per week during the baseball season. His new book, "Rob Neyer's Big Book of Baseball Lineups," has just been published by Fireside. For more information, visit Rob's Web site. |
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