Yogi Berra reaching out a little too much to receive a pitch to Ted Williams.

Here’s another catching tip…

Everyone is concerned with “pop times.” That is, the time taken from the instant a pitch hits a catchers glove to the moment it strikes the glove of the middle infielder at second base. Generally speaking, a decent time at the big league level is about 2 seconds. A great time would be something like a 1.8. So, as you can see, the difference between average and great is about the time it takes for someone to blink.

There are many different ways to shave those precious tenths of a second and improve pop times. Unfortunately, we can’t focus on velocity too much because, for the most part, either God blessed you with a canon or he didn’t. We’ve got to figure out a way to get it done with what we’ve got. There are ways to be creative though, and one of the simplest is to let the pitch travel.

Basically, it boils down to the fact that an incoming pitch can travel much faster than you can reach out, catch it, bring it back toward your body and make an exchange to the throwing hand. Make sense? Let the ball travel and make the glove-to-hand exchange closer to your body, especially if you can make the pitch end up somewhere between your shoulders. You can tinker with the distance, but I think receiving the ball about 12-18 inches from the chest is about right.

Obviously, if a pitch is extreme (outside your body), you must extend to catch the ball and bring it all back to the midline to make an exchange. But if the pitch is around your body, fight the urge to reach out and get it. Use the superior speed of the ball and make the glove to hand exchange closer to your body for more efficient times.

It’s not a big thing, but not much is when it comes to pop times. It can easily save a tenth of a second though, and transform you from just a guy to THE GUY.

Till next time, good luck, have fun, and keep your eye on the ball…

Here’s the wacky thing. This guy never has to work another day in his life! Strasbug signed for around 15 million, right? Take away half for taxes and 5% for Boras, and you’ve still got around 7 left. That’s a nice number to have in the bank. That will pretty much do it. I’m not sure that he’ll be flying around in his own private jet, but he’ll never have to work another day in his life if he doesn’t want to.

Does that seem slightly out of whack to you? It sure does to me. What did this guy do to deserve a free pass for the rest of his life? Less than half a year in the big leagues, an impressive amateur career at SDSU, probably dominant career in Little League? Is that all it takes? Something is wrong and needs to be fixed.

I don’t know the answer, but I know the draft thing needs an overhaul. I’ll tell you one thing, I don’t ever want to hear another owner cry poor until all of the head honchos get together and figure out a way to fix this money pit. As far as I know, the players union has no say in the matter, so what exactly is the hang up? Why are they willing to throw heaps of money at kids who, according to the odds, will probably never put on a big league uniform?

Odds are, Bryce Harper will never make it to the Bigs; however, he'll still never have to work.

Look, I’m all for ballplayers making as much money as they can. If you put in the time, be it in the minor leagues or major leagues, get what you can while you can. But something is wrong when a kid like Strasburg spends a third of a season in the show and walks away with significantly more dough than a guy who caught in big leagues for 15 years. I’m not complaining, I’m just saying.

I think this could work. It doesn’t have to be a huge event, I’m sure anything will help. If you’re interested please write a comment or just send your old gloves to:

The Art of Catching                                2701 Harbor Blvd. E-2, #203                         Costa Mesa, CA 92626

I know it’s not much, but in return I’ll send stickers and signed baseball cards to all those who participate. I’ll keep you posted on the glove count and where they go. Thank you.

Example of a kid with a cardboard glove.

A part of you never grows up when you stay in the game. This doesn’t affect you so much when you’re still playing, because nobody around you has grown up either. It’s away from the game, where playing a child’s game makes you different.

Which got me to thinking. After I got out of the game for a little while and had a chance to get my bearings, it became evident that I was (am) basically a social misfit. I’m recovering. And I highly suspect there’s quite a few ex-big leaguers (and current one’s too) who are in the same boat.

And here’s why. For the most part, for as long as you are in “the show,” you’re basically cut off from real life. You exist in a controlled bubble that doesn’t involve a whole lot of social interaction…except with your teammates and those within the tight circle of the traveling circus.

Yes, you’re in front of 40 thousand people a night, but for all intents and purposes they might as well be cardboard. For the most part, the fans are just a background. You’re there to do a job and they’re part of the workplace. Even if you’re signing 8,000 autographs a day, you’re not really having a lot of interaction. And even if you are interacting, it’s a strange type of interaction. Not like two normal people. I mean, one person is paying to see the other one. I don’t care how grounded a person you might be, it’s hard to escape the feeling that you’re on a different level than the guy on the other side on the fence.

So the ballplayer goes through his days shuffling from a bus to a chartered plane (right on the tarmac, not through the airport mind you), to the hotel, to the cab, to the ballpark, back into the cab, back to the hotel, back to the bus, which starts the whole cycle again. Repeat for 15 years or so. Then the off season comes and you’re so sick of the traveling and miss your family so much that all you want to do is be alone, take the phone off the hook, and hunker down.

Like I said, you don’t need to talk to anyone outside your tribe if you don’t want to.

How many big leaguers retire every year? Let’s say that number is 100. Basically MLB is spitting out 100 or so social misfits into society annually. A bunch of 16 year olds trapped in 40 year old bodies. If you’re one of those guys, the only smooth transition is if you can land a gig on the MLB network and can continue to yuck it up with other ex-players. Or stay in the game as a coach. Other than that, it’s gonna be bumpy.

The funny thing is, nobody warns you. Nothing at all. No de-briefing like the CIA, no schooling on how operate a washing machine or, God forbid, direction on how to go through an airport alone. Really? I have to wear a seatbelt and turn my ipod off? You’ve gotta be holy-cowing me. Never did it that before and we never crashed. Tell me again why I can’t sit in the cockpit.

Bert Blyleven...enough said.

So whats my point? I don’t know, I’m just talking. Definitely not complaining, just sharing my experience. I do know is it’s fortunate that there’s only a few of us out there at any given time. In the whole scheme of things, a few social misfits trying to adapt probably isn’t hurting the world too badly.

“I ain’t never had a job, I just always played baseball”  -  Satchel Paige

My trying to project strong body language even in the powder blue KC uniform.

Here’s another catching tip…

Once in a while during a game I’ll notice a catcher acting inappropriately. Let me present a situation which happened the other day and I’ll explain. It was the first game of the season and the pitcher was obviously nervous. The poor kid was all over the place, bouncing some pitches and air mailing others. He was trying, but really struggling.

Meanwhile, the catcher was throwing attitude. Judging by his body language, he seemed sort of annoyed. Like the pitcher was inconveniencing him by making him chase the ball around a bit. Whether the catcher actually felt that way or not was irrelevant. It’s how I saw it. And if interpreted it that way, do you think it might be possible that a college or pro scout might too?

Simply put, your body language is VERY important. People are always evaluating and trying to make judgements on your attitude. Many times, these snap judgements are based on how you look. Most folks just don’t have time to get to know you as a person. It’s along the same vein as wearing your uniform correctly. The point is, don’t give anyone an excuse to write you off.

And the reality is this. As a catcher, you’re there to help. You are there to be of service to the guy on the mound and make his life easier. Not the other way around. You’re the focal point of the field and need to lead. A lot of good leadership can come without words, just by your body language.

Honestly, I loved it when a pitcher was struggling. While I obviously felt bad for the guy, what a golden opportunity. It’s a chance to show off my range and blocking abilities. Plus, helping a pitcher out of a bind builds trust and that strong, intangible pitcher/catcher relationship.

Till next week, good luck, have fun, and keep your eye on the ball…

Anyway, for some reason I’ve been getting quite a few questions about how best to break in a catchers glove. Because there’s gotta be a quicker way than just catching with it, right? Unfortunately, wrong. Outside of the suggestion I made of using pine tar, I don’t have a whole lot for you. I’d love to share some super secret big league trick to speed up the process, but the truth is, in my opinion, the best way to break in a catchers glove is just to catch with it.

Catchers glove from 1905.

For that reason, I always had a little rotation going on. I’d estimate that I’d use up about a glove and a half a season. So, I always had three gloves in various stages of brokeninness. I’d have a gamer, a glove that was close to a gamer (but could definitely be used in a pinch), and a glove that was just getting started. When the gamer would die, the second one would rotate in – and on and on.

Catchers glove from 1940.

I’ve heard that the rich British back in the day (maybe still) used to have their butlers break in their new shoes for a them. You know, get that new shine off and skip the blister stage. Well, kind of like a wealthy Brit, I’d sometimes have the bullpen catcher get a few bullpens with my new #3 glove. Just to kind of get it started. But just for a bullpen or two. I definitely didn’t want the new glove to take on the habits of the bullpen guy. God forbid he clanked a few. You don’t want a glove to get used to that sort of thing. What if it thought that sort of behavior was acceptable? I had a few gloves like that and I got rid of them quick. Keep them away from the rest.

I also didn’t want the glove to take on the characteristics of his hand. And everybody’s got different preferences for how they like the shape of the glove. I wanted it my way.

So, the moral of the story is…to break in a catchers glove the right way, play catch. A lot of it. I think I’ve seen just about every method known to man, and that’s the best way I know.

A fairly modern day unit.

Mike Scioscia demonstrating a powerful throwing position.

Here’s another catching tip…

In previous tips, I’ve talked about the importance of both timing and coming out of the crouch low (like an airplane taking off) when trying to throw out potential base stealers.

An additional movement that tends to enhance both the above practices has to do with the left knee. After the runner steals and the pitcher releases the ball, slowly push your left knee towards the right. Make sure that the rest of your body doesn’t rotate to the right, just the knee. You can mess around with the speed of this move to find a tempo that feels comfortable. Think of it as a timing mechanism that’s similar to how a hitter’s hands might push back to go forward before striking the ball.

This is an especially valuable tool for those catchers who have a tendency to rush or who’s first movement when a runner goes is for their butt to rise. Done correctly, this left knee “slide” will keep you back longer and help you “stay in your legs” as you throw. Which all ultimately leads to a catcher who throws from a powerful base with proper timing.

Till next time, good luck, have fun, and keep your eye on the ball…

Alright, so here’s my take. Collisions at the plate are part of the game. It’s every catcher’s responsibility to figure out a way to deal with this play safely and effectively because it’s inevitable. Eventually, someone’s gonna run into you – like it or not.

You don’t want to be a catcher who is scared of getting injured and you don’t want to be that guy who pulls the rip cord and bails when things get dicey. Whether you actually are a tough guy or not, you want to at least appear like you’ve got the balls to hang in there. This may sound goofy, and for sure it’s an intangible thing, but your team needs a strong presence behind the dish. Having toughness in that position contributes in a big way to the fabric and make-up of a team’s personality. Simply put, a guy who shys away from contact (in my opinion) isn’t helpful.

So what to do? Well for one, DON’T do what Carlos Santana did. Or what I see Russell Martin do all the time. Throwing that left leg out into the baseline like a hockey goalie is poor technique, dumb, and a recipe for disaster. Don’t believe me? Watch that video clip. It’s a miracle the same thing hasn’t happen to Martin yet (look at the photo.)

Russell Martin playing with fire by getting his left leg in a weird position.

In order to gain enough confidence to hang in there and complete this play, the first thing you need to do is buy my book. I’m serious. Buy it now. You’re still gonna be terrified when a tattooed giant like Josh Hamilton is bearing down on you at full speed, but at least you’ll have a plan and will be in a good position if the worst case scenario happens. And that might just give you enough guts to hang in there. Or maybe not…he is pretty big, fast, and tatooy.

Amongst the key points you’ll learn in the book: How to get low (if you’ve ever played football, you know that the lowest guy usually wins in a collision.) How to actually have some momentum going into the play so you’re not just a sitting duck. How to get your joints (knees) in safe positions…positions that, if hit, bend in the direction God intended them to bend. Maybe most importantly, how to move into the play at the appropriate time so that you maintain as much peripheral vision as you can for as long as you can. This last one really cuts down on the surprise hits.

So in summary, I guess my point is the play is GOING to happen. It’s inevitable. Trying to avoid contact is kind of like driving on the freeways of southern California or the streets of downtown Manhattan defensively. Your best bet is to be aggressive and mix it up. Or maybe a better analogy would be a football player playing soft and trying not to get injured…his odds of getting hurt are actually increased. Simply take control, be aggressive, and learn how to make this play the right way. Your team will love you for it and if you’re anything like me (and you probably are if you’re masochistic enough to catch) you actually like getting your bell rung once in a while.

Good luck and lets all hope Santana makes a full and speedy recovery.

The master of disaster Mike Scioscia.

Initially I thought (like many people) that it all had something to do with MLB’s steroid and PED enforcement. But the simple fact is, pitchers partook in the drugs every bit as much as the hitters, so that kind of flushes that theory down the toilet…or does it? The more I think about it, I do think this “year of the pitcher” involves PED’s.

Ok, so here’s my latest theory. In order to survive the steroid era, I think pitchers had to develop pinpoint accuracy with their repertoire. Through trial and error, I’m thinking they figured out their wicked stuff or extreme velocity wasn’t enough to get the job done against the freaks they were facing. The new strength of these hitters simply shrunk the traditional holes they had in their swings.

So my theory is, pitchers adapted with control and location. Now fast forward a bit to the year 2010. MLB cracks down steroids creating obvious adverse effects to strength and power (of both hitters and pitchers.) But here’s the kicker. I don’t think the elimination of PED’s has hampered the pitcher’s ability to locate. In other words, everybody’s less strong, but the guys on the mound retained their advances in ball control.

Without the gorilla strength, hitter’s holes have returned and enlarged. But unfortunately for them, they’re facing guys who can hit spots the size of a dime…with multiple pitches no less.

Doc Halladay's perfecto is but one of many outstanding pitching performances this season.

Now, to be quiet honest, I don’t think this is going to last forever. I’ve predicted this state of the game many times before. I’m telling you, don’t be deceived into thinking baseball is cleaning up. Were just in a bit of a holding pattern. Player’s are in-between drugs. As soon as guys get desperate enough, they’ll get a bit more daring and start using new stuff. Couple that with the reality that the drug producing business is about 10 years ahead of the drug catching business and MLB (in my opinion) doesn’t really want to catch anybody (why would they…it’s just bad business) and you’ve got a recipe for a new drug renaissance…soon.

So that’s my theory on why were experiencing the “2010 Year of the Pitcher” in a nutshell. It’s either that or the fact that baseball is just cyclical and now’s the pitcher’s turn. Whatever the reason, I sure am getting a kick out of watching it go down.

Ok, this is the last one I’ll throw at you…I promise. But keep reading, this one’s juicy.

To set this passage up, the author is talking about his father and career minor league pitcher, Papa Toe. I’d just like to add that I never thought about professional baseball in this light – until I read this. But I sure as heck felt it and lived it.

Watching Papa Toe pitch through the years — the body language, the easy grace, the pure focus, time after time — any fan who didn’t know him would have sworn that there was nothing more important to this man than the game he was playing. Of course, his family knew better. Most ballplayers’ family members know better. But the good players are all like Papa: their faces tell you nothing. And professional baseball is beautiful to watch largely because of this.

A pro contract is a kind of vow: a man agrees, in signing it, that he will perform as though his personal life, his family, his non-baseball hopes and needs do not exist. He is paid to aspire to purity. For the duration of every game he has not only to behave but really feel that the ballpark is the entire world: his body is his instrument, so any lack of this feeling will soon be reflected in his play. The purity of commitment really isn’t much different than that of the Hinayana monks, they with their one robe, one bowl, one icon; ballplayers with their uniforms, their bats, their gloves.

But purity has a brutal side. Sometimes a strikeout means that the slugger’s girlfriend just ran off with the UPS driver. Sometimes a muffed ground ball means that the shortstop’s baby daughter has a pain in her head that won’t go away. And handicapping is for amateur golfers, not ballplayers. Pitchers don’t ease off on the cleanup hitter because of the lumps just discovered in his wife’s breast. Baseball is not life. It is a fiction, a metaphor. And a ballplayer is a man who agrees to uphold that metaphor as though lives were at stake.

How frickin’ good is that? Man o man. I sure wish I would have read that as a player. That type of perspective may have helped me hold up my end of the bargain a little bit better. Play my part a bit better. This also reminds me of one of my favorite baseball quotes of all time…

“Sometimes a hitter gets a hit, sometimes I strike them out, but in neither case does anyone die.”                                        ~  Orlando “El Duque” Hernandez

I never really thought of it this way, but Orlando was a pretty brave character to make a statement like that, especially if he did it as a Yankee.

"El Duque"

By the way, a big congrats to Andre “the Hawk” Dawson, Doug Harvey, and Whitey Herzog. The 2010 Hall of Fame class.

"The Hawk" comin in hot.