The Case of the Fragile Pitcher

Welcome to this week's edition of Mystery Theatre where we delve into the most vexing whodunits of our time.

This week, we examine The Case of the Fragile Pitcher and analyze the theories that abound, ex-post facto, to explain why hurlers in the 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s and 80s took the ball every fourth day, remained on the hill for 300+ innings and wore down no more than their modern counterparts despite advances in conditioning and medical care. 

Our sleuths will uncover why today's moundsmen are bigger, stronger, better conditioned, yet throw no harder and dis-assemble faster than their progenitors despite massive attention paid to their workload.

Actually, our sleuths will do no such thing. The point of this installment of Mystery Theatre is that this week's mystery has earned its stripes and avoided explanation like Jimmy Hoffa's killers.

The timing of this discussion coincides with the implosion of Stephen Strasburg's elbow, which would have ended his career had not Tommy John presented the same ulnar collateral ligament injury to Dr. Frank Jobe in 1974.

How, we're all asking, could Strasburg have contracted this quintessential pitching woe when management of the Washington Nationals treated him like a sickly Southern belle in a heat wave? Despite gestating his talent beyond necessity in the minors, truncating his starts, plying him with extra rest and reacting to his every boo-boo with ever more caution, the franchise is nonetheless rewarded with the very injury they most feared.

Listen to sports talk radio and television and you will hear ex-jocks propose theories big and small for this vexing phenomenon. Their explanations range from the unprovably plausible to the patently ridiculous. Mostly they are stand-ins for the far more accurate and credible answer: I don't know. My favorite is the former players who rail against pitch counts. Although limits on pitch counts got a little out of hand for awhile, they are still based on solid research supporting certain limits on some pitchers.

We know that today's pitchers are bigger, stronger, better-conditioned and better-trained than their predecessors. We also know that the highest heat today is no hotter than the highest heat of yesteryear. Nolan Ryan, Bob Feller, Sam McDowell; hell, Walter Johnson would all be considered fireballers today. And we know that there seems to be some risk in increasing the workload of young pitchers dramatically from one year to the next, though the Verducci Effect is no longer the universally accepted metaphysical truth it once was. None of that explains why Cy Young's great-grandchildren can't hold a candle to Cy Young's grandchildren.

I would like to take a stab at explaining part of the problem by noting three simultaneous truths. Before I do, a caveat: this is not a universal theory of pitching durability. I don't really know why throwers of Bowie Kuhn's day outlasted today's crop.

I wonder whether the average pitcher today doesn't throw harder than the average pitcher of 1970, even if the pinnacle of the profession hasn't changed. Someone probably knows the answer to this, but I don't. A major league fastball is at least 88 mph in 2010. Rare is the violator of this rule. Was that the case in 1975, or could you get away with a speedball that peaked at 82 with sufficient craft and a 12-6 curveball?

I also wonder what impact new pitches like sliders, cut fastballs, etc. have  on athletes' shoulders and elbows. Are they even new pitches at all, or just new names for strategies being employed all the time?

Onto the facts: one reason pitchers pitch fewer innings today is that they pitch fewer innings. No, really. Isn't it conceivable that if pitchers took the ball every fourth day while working their way through the minor leagues and then continued in that vein in The Show, they would get acclimated to that workload? Under those conditions, some major league pitchers would compile 250+ innings, just like Tom Seaver and Juan Marichal did.

Fact Two: Bullpens are used differently today than in the past. Before the one-inning closer and the LOOGY (left-handed, one-out guy), managers let their starters pitch until they ran out of steam or had to be replaced by a pinch hitter. Teams had 10-man staffs -- four starters, a closer and a bunch of inning-eaters. Today, perfectly fresh starters get yanked in order to maximize match-ups. We have closers and set-up men and long relievers and situational lefties and righties who together comprise 13-man rotations. No wonder a starter can't get an inning in edgewise.

Fact Three: Pitching today is a full-time job. Pitchers face hitters up and down the lineup who are bigger, stronger and more powerful than in the past. Throw in the DH and today's hurler must make every pitch count and use every pitch to set up every other. Ken Griffey, Sr., Tony Gwynn, Sr. Cecil Fielder, Bob Boone, and others whose loins produced today's breed, competed with middle infielders who were Michael J. Fox-sized and couldn't go yard off a tee. Juan Marichal could cruise through the bottom of the order; a hanging curve might be a hit, but rarely extra bases. He didn't have to futz around with setting up Roy McMillan and his 292 SLG.

In short,  the full story behind the discrepancy between pitchers of bygone eras and today remains a mystery. There seems to be evidence that pitching today is more difficult and that usage patterns have changed. Beyond that: I don't know.

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