RMJ 3 February 16

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 16 ● Kissimmee

Well, guess what? It rained today — all day. Naturally, I had no real plan; but to be honest, there wasn’t much we could do, except hit and pitch in the batting cages.

Vern and I had another skull session with the pitchers, and it seemed to go pretty well, except that they were still shy and didn’t offer much feedback. I opened with a question:

 

If the runs you score and the runs you allow are equal parts of the win or the loss, how can pitching be 70 to 80 percent of the game?

 

I’m sure most of the guys had heard these pronouncements about the importance of pitching. Some people even said it was 90 percent of the game. This conundrum has been viewed with scant skepticism over the years. It was illogical, but I knew there was something to it. I had a theory that I wanted our pitchers to consider. But when no one ventured a guess, I was put in the position of pontificating.

I suppose it started when folks looked at championship teams. The top pitching teams won most of the pennants; many heavy-hitting outfits have failed. Thus, pitching must be more important than hitting. But why?

My theory is that the essential truth about winning teams is: they do not crack under pressure, because they have supreme confidence. The ability to win close, low-scoring games is the difference between good teams and champions. And you cannot win those games without good pitching.

When the pitching staff has established itself as stingy, the rest of the players begin to feel they can win every game. They already know there will be days when runs will be hard to come by, but if they believe in their own pitcher, they believe that they will win anyway. This is what drives the Atlanta Braves: a quiet confidence that they will win the game before they even take the field.

 

If you look at the Detroit Tigers of the early 1990s, you will find the opposite effect. Those powerful teams typically finished in the middle of the pack, despite leading the league in runs scored. Were they confident they could score a lot of runs? Sure. But were they confident they would win? I doubt it.

The only way to gain experience in close, low-scoring games is to play a lot of them. Even though the Braves hit a lot of homers and go on hitting binges from time to time, they have their hitting slumps, just like every other team. The difference with the Braves is that when they have a hitting slump, they don’t always have a winning slump. This is how pitching becomes more than half of the game.

In the case of the 1997 Houston Astros, the pitching is suspect at this point. With Jeff Bagwell, Craig Biggio, and Derek Bell taking up roughly half the budget, there was no possibility of signing big-name free-agent pitchers, such as Roger Clemens. Given the uncertain nature of our pitching prospects, we decided to take a different tack this winter.

The model for our approach was the Cardinals of the 1980s. Whitey Herzog’s teams were among the finest-fielding teams I have ever seen. With performers such as Keith Hernandez, Tommy Herr, Ozzie Smith, Willie McGee, and Andy Van Slyke, those Redbird clubs supported their pitchers with the kind of glovework that makes pitching easy: they simply ran down most of the mistakes their pitchers made. In a large ballpark, such as Busch Stadium, this can have a tremendous effect.

In their championship seasons, the Cardinals’ staff was always in the top three in Earned Run Average (ERA). They got the same results the Braves, get but they did it a different way — a way we might be able to copy. I don’t expect this Astros team to be as gifted afield as the Cardinals, but by improving our catching, shortstop, and centerfield play, we may be able to come close.

 

After I talked about the importance of pitching, I turned it over to Vern, who discussed the way a staff can come together for the benefit of all. He talked about a starter going 8 or 9 innings when the bullpen is arm-weary. He talked about relief pitchers coming to the aid of starters and other relievers. A good staff is better than the sum of its individual pitching talents, and Vern made that point well.

Our minor-league pitching coordinator, Dewey Robinson, spoke about the value of preparation. “I haven’t spent a lot of time in the big leagues,” he said. “But I have had a lot of minor-league pitchers under me, and the ones that make it are most often the ones that prepare themselves to win before they even take the mound.” Dewey talked about conditioning, and the value of establishing daily routines that allow a pitcher to keep sharp focus from one outing to the next.

Finally, Bill Virdon, a centerfielder by trade, spoke up. Bill is a man of few well-chosen words, unlike the loquacious Vern Ruhle. “I don’t know what the percentage is,” he said, “but I can tell you from experience that pitching is more than half of the game. This team will go as far as you guys take it.”

With that, the meeting adjourned. The catchers had finished their fun in the cages; now it was time for the drudgery of catching 28 pitchers. This time, the catching coaches, realizing that it would be the last time their pupils would have to catch every pitcher on the same day, said, “let’s get it over with. We’ll go nonstop (40 minutes) until we get it done.”

Vern and I watched the pitchers in one cage; Dewey watched the others. I was particularly impressed with Al Morman. Al is a second-year lefty who was inconsistent in his rookie year.

In his defense, he had a tough assignment as the only lefthander in the bullpen, and although he didn’t set a record for games pitched, he may have set a record for the number of times he warmed up. By September, he was throwing sidearm, and his pitches were flat. He had a lot of trouble with right-handed hitters.

Going into this season, I was concerned about him, and I wanted to see some competition for his spot in the bullpen. That’s why I was so encouraged to see his arm up at a three-quarter position. After he got loose, he had good movement and good velocity. If he can carry that into the season, he should have better luck with the righties, and he will be much more valuable to the team.

The secret for me is to keep his arm fresh. Easier said than done, if he is the only lefthanded setup man again.

 

While we were watching, a conversation got going about long home runs. Alan Ashby and I talked about some tape-measure shots, but Bill Virdon captivated everyone when he started talking about Mickey Mantle.

“These guys today can hit the ball farther than the players of my day,” he said, “but Mantle could hit it father than anyone.

“I remember one time when I was still in the minors. It was 1950, and we were playing an exhibition game with the Yankees’ farm club. Everyone had already heard about Mantle, and I wanted to see for myself. Well, he hit two home runs that day. One of them went right over my head in center. I still remember how high it was when it went over my head. And it was still going out, not coming down. I took about three steps and then just watched it go.

“If everyone in the big leagues hits like this, I thought, I don’t have a chance.

“And run? Man, you should have seen him run! He was 3.1 [seconds] from the left side on a bunt. You couldn’t throw him out. And when he got going around the bases, he would throw up big chunks of dirt, like a racehorse. You’d think it was a mortar range out there after he hit a triple. And those old canvas bases, they didn’t stand a chance. He’d rip holes in them when he made the turn.”

 

When I made my turn back to the clubhouse, our PR man, Rob Matwick, was there to remind me about an interview I had agreed to do.

“It’s live with Steve Mark of Fox,” he said. “You need to be back here at 10:15.”

“10:15?” I said, a little miffed. “I didn’t know it was that late.”

“It’s live,” he said, “and Houston is an hour behind us.”

Well, I’m staying about 20 minutes from the ballpark. A quick calculation told me that I wouldn’t get to sleep before midnight. I have to be at the park at 8 a.m., so I will not get a full night’s sleep. Still, I know that Steve has to be back out tomorrow, doing more interviews. How could I complain?

I’m not complaining. But I already have evidence of why the manager has to delegate many details of spring training to the coaches.