Harold Reynolds Presents

Say it isn't so!

2008-06-10T03:37:54Z

When I first heard the Yankees were considering moving Joba Chamberlain to the starting rotation, I didn't like it. When it became official, I liked it even less! The end of a dynasty! Some might say that would be too extreme or maybe too harsh. Okay, how about: "The Yanks won't make the playoffs this season, ending a 12-year run."

Sorry Yankee fans, I know you don't want to hear it, but unless they can find someone to close the gap from the 6th inning on, and get the ball to Mariano Rivera, the streak will end. Here are my top five reasons why you leave Joba Chamberlain in the pen.

1. Lights out

When Joba appeared in the 7th and/or 8th innings it was not to mop up games, it was to give the Yankees the best chance to win that night. One game at a time is how you have to think, and the best chance to win that game or any Yankee game, my friends, is by getting the ball to number 42, Mariano Rivera. Did the Yankees already forget the formula that made the core of this group of Yanks world champions four times?

Rivera to Wetteland.

Nelson to Rivera.

Next it could be Chamberlain to Rivera! What good does it do to have the best closer in baseball if you can't get to him to close the game out? Last year, the Yankees were 17-2 in games Joba pitched out of the pen. This year they were 15-5 when he came out of the pen. That's 32-7. As I write this, the team has only won 32 games on the season. I don't know about you, but I will take my chances all day long with those numbers.

2. Getting the ball to number 42

Prior to moving to the starting rotation, Joba had appeared in 20 games out of the pen this season with great success. If he were to continue at this pace, even with a pitch count in place, he could make another 45 to 50 appearances this season. That would be 65-70 appearances on the year and the wins in those games would probably be enough to put them in the playoffs.

Now before you do the math and say that still is not enough wins to put the Yankees in the playoffs, you have to figure these factors too: They are going to win some blowout games where he won't be called in to pitch. They'll win some games when he has the day off, and they'll win some games in extra innings.

I would rather have Joba in an additional 45-50 games, setting up Mo for the win, than what they are going to get out of him as a starter. What they will get (if you were wondering), is an unproven young starting pitcher who has a pitch count limit every time he goes to the mound. With the season one-third of the way over, you will be lucky if he gets 20 starts. Even if he pitches lights out for six or seven innings, who will get the ball to Mo?

3. Approaches to hitting

He will be facing hitters who have a different game plan at the plate when he's a starter as opposed to a reliever late in the game.

Most of you have played Little League or maybe have coached Little League. Some of you might have even played high school ball or higher. When your team is behind late in the game, what is your coach instructing your hitters to do?

"Take a strike -- we need base runners."

Why do you think that changes in the big leagues? It doesn't. Or at least it shouldn't. Everybody in the ballpark knows the batter is not going to swing at the first pitch in hopes of working the count to get on base. That includes the pitcher. The batter may not swing until after he has one strike, sometimes two. See where I'm going with this? When Joba comes in the game late and knows the batter is not going to swing, what an advantage. He doesn't fall behind in counts, throws first pitch strikes, then proceeds to throw a 98-mph fastball with a nasty slider -- it's lights out, boys and girls! It is not even fair! Start playing the music, here comes The Sandman, Number 42.

4. Advantage Hitter

The game changes for the hitter when you face a pitcher at the start of the game as opposed to late in the game. Here's how it works. Each position in the batting order has a specific role. For example, the leadoff hitter is usually a guy who is asked to work the count. He'll take pitches so everyone can see what the pitcher is featuring. He rarely strikes out, and has the ability to foul off a lot of pitches.

The second hitter is a guy who can hit with two strikes. He hits with two strikes a lot because he has allowed the first hitter, now the base runner, to attempt to steal bases. Often times the base runner might steal on a pitch you would love to hit, but you let it go to allow him to steal the base and put himself in scoring position. You may have also fouled off a pitch on a hit-and-run play, or fouled off a pitch or two trying to bunt to advance the base runner. Any number of strategic maneuvers may have left the second hitter with a two-strike count.

That being said, for most hitters, your first at bat is to see what the pitcher's stuff looks like that particular game. No pitcher has the same stuff every game. You might take a pitch and hopefully see some of his off-speed pitches as well. Unless you have seen the pitcher in the past a number of times, you usually don't swing early in the count.

The second at bat is a different story. Depending on the situation, most hitters are a lot more aggressive and more comfortable. By the third or fourth at bat, you are feeling really good, having seen all that he's got.

In today's game, however, with pitchers limited to pitch counts, it's very rare to face a guy four times in the same game.

5. Joba could dominate for two more years before hitters catch up.

The fewer times the batter sees a pitcher, the more of an advantage the pitcher has. The Toronto Blue Jays went on an amazing run in the early 90s partly because they had great everyday players, but mainly because their bullpen was lights out from the 7th inning on.

Mike Timilin, Mark Eichorn, Duane Ward and Tom Henke -- they all had great stuff and could shut down a line-up. However, what also contributed to their success was the fact that you didn't face them enough to be able to make adjustments. When you shorten the game for the starter with a great bullpen, it's tough to make adjustments to each guy.

The tricky thing about a pitcher coming in out of the bullpen is you don't always know what part of the order he might face. One game it could be the top of the order. The next time you face him, it could be the bottom of the order. It might take two or three seasons before you faced the guy enough times to feel comfortable at the plate. I mean comfortable enough to pick the ball up. Comfortable enough to anticipate what he might throw in certain counts. What's his best pitch that night? Which pitch will he use as his out pitch that night?
Joba Chamberlain throws two types of fastballs in the mid 90s, plus a slider in the mid 80's, a change-up, and a curve ball. He could go through the American League for two full season before hitters saw all his pitches enough times to make adjustments. If you don't believe me, look at Jonathan Papelbon, the Red Sox closer. Hitters are just now starting to have an occasional good swing off him, and this is his fourth season. With Joba out of the bullpen and no one to get the ball to Rivera, the Yankees have played right into the game plan of every opponent. I can hear every American League team in their hitters' meeting now: "Gentlemen, the game plan is simple. Let's get in that bullpen, boys."

Big goals, big dreams produce big results

2008-05-22T18:48:56Z

In 1986, I was a young second baseman in the Seattle Mariners' system fighting to stay in the big leagues. I had already achieved one of my goals of playing in the Major Leagues a few years earlier when I was called up at the end of September 1983. In 1985, I reached another personal goal when I made the Opening Day roster for the first time. You would think I would have been on top of the world! Not the case. I would struggle through that season, playing part-time and hitting only .144. Miserable, frustrated and unsatisfied with my performance, I considered quitting baseball at the end of the season.

Many people would say I was living the dream, but for me, I couldn't live with being mediocre. I knew I was better but just couldn't put it together. I had been an All-Star at every level in the Minor Leagues and didn't understand why I was struggling in the big leagues while others I outperformed in the minors wasn't. In the fall of 1986, a conversation with Casey Treat, a pastor friend of mine, would change all that.

Casey challenged me to "stretch my goals and stretch my vision."

"Big goals produce big results and little goals produce little results," he would say. "Your problem is not in your ability but rather in your thinking. How you see yourself determines who you are and what you will become."

He continued, "You need to renew your mind (thinking) and see yourself as God sees you -- as a champion."

"A true champion," he would say, "responds to the challenge, not the problem."

Quitting, as far as he was concerned, was not an option.

"You need to have bigger goals and bigger vision! Playing in the big leagues is nice but you should be an All-Star player. Stretch your goals and challenge yourself. Dedicate yourself to being the best you can possibly be!"

He gave me an earful that day and I'm grateful for it. Now don't get me wrong, the conversation set me back at first, but he did get through to me.

As I examined myself, I started thinking back to when first I started competing in baseball at age five. That first year in Little League, I performed so well I was picked to the All-Star Team even though I was the youngest kid in the league. In fact, it didn't stop with Little League. After that summer and every year going forward -- high school, college and the Minor Leagues -- I would become an All-Star at every level. An All-Star in every sport I participated in: football, basketball, track and even wrestling.

1. Be willing to make adjustments

I went back home to Oregon to work out in January before the 1986 season with a renewed fire and a fresh perspective. I knew Greatness does not come by osmosis; you have to work at it. Working is the easy part. The tough stuff is being willing to make adjustments. I knew I needed to make some changes in my swing and approach at the plate but was unsure of what to do. I was lost and needed to find the stroke that had made me an All Star at every level. When I got to the big leagues, I had been given so many confusing messages from coaches.

"Hold your hands high."

"Hold your hands low."

"Swing at the first fastball you see."

"Don't swing until you get two strikes."

I heard it all! I was too coachable. I listened to too many coaches and tried to incorporate all of their instructions. It seemed every time I got around big league coaches and discussed my hitting problems, they all agreed on one thing as a solution -- that I should "hit the ball on the ground and use my speed".

I had heard that crap from the first day I signed a pro contract. "Hit the ball on the ground". Hitting the ball on the ground does not automatically result in base hits. They pay guys millions of dollars to field ground balls. If the defense positions themselves correctly, you should be able to throw out a batter hitting nothing but ground balls every time. This isn't Little League, where you find the weakest link to hit the ball to. This is Major League Baseball! I have yet to see a player outrun a throw from a Major League infielder on a ground ball hit hard right at the defender.

I knew I had to hit line drives and balls in the gaps to have success. I did it in the minors and knew I had to do it in the big leagues. As long as they kept preaching ground balls and I didn't make the adjustment to hit line drives, I was never going to stay in the majors, let alone be an All-Star. I changed my swing and approach at the plate that winter. It took a couple years, but the hard work and adjustments I made paid off.

2. Be realistic: set reachable goals

In 1981, my first season in the Minor Leagues, I was named the Midwest League Prospect of the Year, playing for the Wausau Timbers in Wausau, WI. That season, I hit .296, stole 69 bases and hit 12 home runs, but I also committed 30 errors at second base. The following spring training I sat with my infield instructor, Marty Martinez, to set defensive goals for the upcoming season, I said to him, "I am only going to make five errors all year." He laughed and said, "Hold on--what are you going to do after the first week and you have already committed five errors? Let's be realistic! Set reachable goals. If you commit 25 errors in the season, that's a positive improvement from last year." Goals should be something that you get excited about, not something that makes you feel depressed and inadequate! They should motivate you to get out of bed in the morning and look forward to what the day might bring!

3. Assess the competition and stay within yourself

I looked at the second basemen in the American League and the talent was rich. Their accomplishments were just as impressive. Several were already All-Stars, Gold Glove Winners, Silver Slugger Award Winners and World Series heroes. Frank White in Kansas City was the smoothest fielder of the group, and in my opinion, the best defensive second baseman in the history of baseball. Willie Randolph in New York could do it all -- an incredible combination of power, speed and toughness. Lou Whitaker in Detroit had tremendous power. Vance Law in Chicago was a great hitter. Damaso Garcia in Toronto had unlimited potential, Jim Gantner in Milwaukee was a great situational player and Bobby Grich in Anaheim was way ahead of his time--a 6'2, 200-lb stud.

You didn't have guys of Grich's size playing second base in those days. He hit for power, average, could run and field his position. When I finished assessing the group, my first thought was, "I have no business in this group."

I had to look for something positive that made me realize I could compete with these men. I knew I wasn't going to be the type of player who hit 25 home runs or drove in 100 runs. I was going to catch the ball and make contact. When I looked at the physical stature of each man, outside of Bobby Grich, we were all basically the same size: 5'11", 165 pounds. That was it. The common denominator I needed.

When I was able to reduce them from the giants they were in my head, to the same size of the man I saw in the mirror, the vision came alive. They all had a special skill that stood out amongst the group, but once I set that skill aside, it cleared my vision and I realized not only were we similar in physical stature, but we basically all had a similar style of play -- catch the ball, hit for good average and don't make mistakes. After assessing the competition, I concluded that if I could play within myself, which meant catching the ball, putting it in play and stealing bases, why couldn't I be an All-Star too?

"As a man sees himself, so is he."

"Batboy!"

2007-08-29T17:14:34Z

Not too long ago, I was hanging out with my old buddies at Pops Deli in West Hartford, CT, and we started talking baseball like most or dinary people do that follow the game. The topic was “scoring position.” Not the question of why so-and-so didn't drive in what's-his-name but rather, "Why does a broadcaster wait until there's a runner at second or third base to proclaim, 'There’s a runner in scoring position?'”

I first started to explain the basic thought that most base runners can out run a throw from the outfield if they are at least on second when the play starts. Then, the next question became the true focus of the conversation. How would you define a true power hitter then? Well, in this day of trying to use stats to determine a player's ability, I am not sure the answer I gave to that question would work in the computer formula era.

In 1993, I had the privilege to play for the Baltimore Orioles, one of the great franchises in baseball history. When you have that type of history you probably had some Hall of Fame players in the past too. Frank Robinson is one of those Hall of Famers, and fortunately for me, he was still in the organization. Mr. Robinson had taken a position with the club as the Assistant General Manager.

Because his position required him to travel with the team, I got to spend a lot of time picking his brain on flights. He would be seated in the front of the plane with the rest of the brass, but I didn't care. I would bust thru the curtain and seek him out. He always greeted me with his traditional “What do you want now?" He acted tough but I knew he enjoyed our visits. One time our conversation was about the power game, RBI's, home runs -- that type of stuff. In the midst of this conversation he paused and asked me, "Do you know what a true power hitter is?"

I said, "Yeah, a guy who can hit the ball out of the ball park."

He said, "No, a guy who can drive a man in from first base." He repeated it for effect. "A guy who can drive a man in from first base."

If the Hall of Famer is saying that scoring position is reduced to the man at the plate, then I'm inclined to believe he might know what he's talking about.

I've learned through the years that power hitters think totally differently than the rest of us. It reminds me of one of my favorite stories of all time, about one of my favorite people, Oscar Gamble. Gamble was a power hitter with big personality and big-time flare. He was known to, on occasion when hitting a monster home run, while the ball was still on flight to the seats in right field, the left-handed hitting Gamble would shout "Batboy!" then hand the bat off to the batboy as he went into his trot. I ran into Oscar at Yankee Stadium a few weeks back. I asked him when he considered a man to be in scoring position, and he shared this story.

He had the pleasure of playing for the late Billy Martin. Billy was very controlling manager, particularly late in the game.

With the team down a run, Billy instructed the team, "Let’s take a strike 'til we get a man in scoring position.” Leading off the inning was Oscar Gamble. The first pitch was a ball. The next pitch, Oscar swung and fouled it off, and Billy jumped off the bench and began shouting in Oscar’s direction.

"Take a strike until you get a man in scoring position! Can you hear me? Take a strike until you get a man in scoring position! It's not that tough," he kept yelling at Oscar, until the pitcher was ready to throw the next pitch. Then he turned and directed his anger toward the rest of the team on the bench. The next pitch Oscar swung again this time, hitting a long homer to the upper deck. "Batboy!"

When Oscar got to the dugout after tying the game, Billy meet him at the top step.

"Take a strike until you get a man in scoring position. What was that?"

Oscar replied, "Billy every time I go to the plate I'm in scoring position."

The bench, including Billy, erupted into laughter.

When is a man in scoring position you ask? Depends who's at the plate.

A season for the ages

2007-08-27T17:35:30Z

When we all look back on the 2007 season history will show that it was quite simply the last great season for individual milestones in the history of baseball. When will we ever see a 31-year old all-time home run record broken like the night Barry Bonds did it? Will his final number really stand for another 30-plus years?

This same season has seen Alex Rodriguez -- the guy who may one day break Bonds' record -- become the fastest player in the history of the sport to hit 500 home runs.

Meanwhile, we witnessed another guy who switched positions hit a milestone that all but assured he will be enshrined in Cooperstown. Craig Biggio started his career behind the plate for the Astros, who moved him to second to protect him from injury. Several Gold Gloves and many hit-by-pitches later, we watched as he collected the 3,000th hit of his Hall of Fame career.

Frank Thomas a.k.a. "The Big Hurt," a nickname he was given during his football days while playing tight end for the Auburn Tigers, not only changed positions, but also sports. I played against Frank and marveled how this 6'6" former tight end could be so patient at the plate. He would pick out a pitch and then put a "big hurt" on the baseball. He, too, hit his 500th career homer this year.

Then there's Tom Glavine. Who would have thought in the early years of his career the words "Cooperstown" and "300 wins" would describe Glavine's career accomplishments? After all, We are talking about a former hockey player who in one season in Atlanta finished that year with a 7-17 record. He reinvented himself, using his great athletic ability and a mental toughness he learned from hockey. He focused on the positives, not the negatives, learned how to pitch on the corners with pinpoint control and to contribute at the plate. By beating the Cubs on a Sunday night in Chicago earlier this year for his 300th career win, Tom Glavine might have become the last pitcher that we ever see reach that number.

We saw Sammy Sosa become just the fifth player in history to reach 600 homers, and Ken Griffey Jr. is just nine away himself. Jim Thome needs seven homers to make it three players to reach 500 this season, and Manny Ramirez needs 11.

Finally, Tony Gwynn and Cal Ripken drew a record 70,000 people to Cooperstown for their induction.

Will we ever see such greatness again in one season. Baseball is on a terrific roll, and I decided long ago I'm going to enjoy the game I love. I'm going to let everybody else worry about things I can't control, like who's on what drug and who's dating whom. Besides, unless they tell us, will we ever really know?

Playing the game the right way.

2007-08-03T18:00:46Z

I was watching the Giants and Dodgers play on Wednesday night and rookie Rajai Davis did something in the game that used to be commonplace: HUSTLE.

What made it even worse is that everybody I was watching the game with and the broadcasters noticed it. His hustle going from second to third and rounding third base so hard, looking like he might go home, stood out like a sore thumb. Shame on us!

Has our level of accepted lack of hustle fallen so much that a rookie made people take notice by doing what used to be the norm? Ernie Harwell, the Hall of Fame broadcaster once said to me "Harold, a good umpire is like a good driver in traffic. You never notice he's there."

The year was 1975. I was in the eighth grade and just starting to really get into baseball. The Reds were the "in vogue" team to watch. They had Joe Morgan, Tony Perez, Johnny Bench, you name it. Stars across the board.

As the oldtimers would say, "Now that's a team that played the game right." They stole bases, hit and ran, hit for power, hit for high average and played great defense: the perfect five-tool team.

One player personified what they were all about, and that was Pete Rose. He had all the five tools like the rest of the Hall of Fame cast. The one thing that separated Charlie Hustle from everybody else was his hustle.

In a generation when hustle was the norm or you didn't play, Pete made it fashionable to hustle, much like the Pete Maravich behind-the-back pass or the Magic Johnson no-look pass.

Not just sprinting to first after a walk or stretching a single into a double, but rather the head-first slide when he went from first to third on a single or diving head-first stretching a double into a triple with hair flopping and helmet flying for effect.

Every kid wanted to go first to third like Pete or dive head-first with helmet flying, only two things were required: get on base, then hustle. How difficult is that?

Isn't that the way the game is supposed to be played? It's a shame that we praise a rookie for playing the game right. If others would play the game the right way, maybe we wouldn't notice them in traffic.

Congrats Tony

2007-07-25T18:16:49Z

My grandmother used to always say practice makes perfect. If you practice right, you play right, if you practice wrong, you play wrong.

In 1979, my senior year in high school, I accepted a recruiting trip to visit San Diego State University. Tough choice, huh?! Anyway, my hosts on the trip were former Yankee shortstop Bobby Meachem and former Mariner farmhand Vic Martin (they were both sophomores at SDSU). Their job, outside of convincing me to attend college there in the fall, was to introduce me to Tony Gwynn, the best hitter in the nation according to All-American shortstop Meachem. I was excited and I couldn't wait to meet this so-called "great hitter." The way I saw it, I had a great junior year, I was All-State and I knew I would be a high draft pick that spring. (I would hit .594 in my senior year and be drafted by the Padres in the fourth round.) A little cocky? No, bring on the greatest hitter in the nation, I can't wait to see him.

We got in the car and headed straight for the arena. The arena?? They don't play baseball in an arena, they sure don't. No, I was going to meet this great hitter after his basketball game. You see, Tony Gwynn was the All-Conference point guard on the basketball team at SDSU. Not only could he hit, but he could also hoop. The next year he was drafted by the San Diego Clippers of the NBA. I watched in awe that night as Tony, with his afro, picked apart the defense. I kept thinking to myself, "If he's this good in basketball, he must really be something special on a diamond." He had the ability like most great point guards to read the defense on the fly and make the adjustments. It wasn't until years later that I saw that same thing perfected by him on the diamond.

It was 1982 and I was in Arizona at instructional league for the first time with Tony and Darnell Coles. Tony would come to the plate, look around surveying the infield then hit a five-hopper through the infield for a single. After this would happen two or three times, Darnell, playing shortstop, and I, playing second, would look at each other and say, "He's the luckest hitter in the world." We would then start moving all over the infield to try and defend him, two steps to the left, three steps to the right and he still would dribble one through. "Lucky chump." "Hit the ball hard." Gwynn: four hits! Gwynn: three hits! Every time we played him he would find the hole. Practice makes perfect.

In 1994, I signed with the Padres, and I finally got to see how this "lucky chump" does it. He had me meet him in the cage every morning at 7 during Spring Training. While most players are still asleep, Tony Gwynn would be hitting in the cage. First off the tee for 30 minutes, then off the machine for 30, all before anyone showed up. Long after Darnell and I had fininished our major league careers, 15 years for him and 12 years for me, we watched from different places in the country as Tony got his 3,000th hit. Shortly after the hoopla, the man who was the best man in my wedding called.

"How 'bout that Tony Gwynn? 3,000 hits -- that's amazing," Darnell said.

I replied: "He's special."

Darnell said with a laugh: "He's lucky!"

Practice makes perfect. Congrats, Tony!