17 April 2017

Because PItching is Harder Today, That's Why

The biggest criticism I hear from itinerant baseball fans today about the 21st century player is astonishment that pitchers are such weenies.

Tommy John threw 200+ innings seven times after his eponymous surgery (five times prior), peaking at 276 innings in 1979 at age 36. John hurled 162 complete games in his career, more than all of Major League Baseball racks up in a season.

So why can't some 240-pound stud last into the seventh without replacing his ulnar collateral ligament?

Answer: See the title of this post.

Behemoths With Bats During Tommy John's career in the 60s and 70s, and even into the early 80s, every lineup was stocked with batters, often including a pitcher, who couldn't reach the centerfield fence if you spotted him second base. Bud Harrelson anchored the Miracle Mets' World Series run in 1969 weighing in at 160 pounds with change in his pocket. Harrelson produced seven home runs in his 16-year career and I'd be willing to bet my Toyota Yaris that at least four of them rolled around the field of play while he circled the bases.

In 2016, even a novelty like Jose Altuve, all of 5'5" and 165, pokes 24 home runs in a season.

In fact, the year of Tommy John's return from elbow surgery, there were 86 players listed at 175 pounds or less who made 300 plate appearances. Last year, there were 12. That same year, 102 players with 300 PAs tallied fewer than five home runs. That's three or four semi-regulars per team. Last year, there were 31 -- one per team.

Back then, a pitcher could cruise through much of the lineup secure that only a couple of bats were capable of doing real damage. Today, every single pitch matters.

Rougned Odor, Keystoner, 33 Jacks
To counteract this, or rather to survive it, MLB teams grow tight ends who can light up radar guns. (Literally, in the case of Jeff Samardzija.) And they throw pitches Tommy John never heard of, like cut fastballs, 90-mph change-ups and 75 mph knuckleballs. They are being bred to snap off breaking pitches that scratch the corners at high velocities. They are not being bred to go the distance. For that, they raise relief pitchers, cultivated for their triple-digit heat, now crowding bullpens that held two or three second-string arms in Tommy John's day. The late innings are their dominion, not the starter's.

In the 70s, more than three-quarters of at-bats ended with a ball put in play. Pitchers could serve it up and allow their fielders to handle the batted balls. Today, about two-thirds of balls are put into play. That's about 650 more walks, strikeouts, and home runs per team each season, which means more pitches thrown per at bat. Today, every one of a starter's 100 precious pitches is delivered with maximum effort to 6'4" shortstops who can crank it out to the opposite field. There are no more Jerry Kenneys, the Yankees' 170-pound shortstop with a lifetime .299 slugging percentage.

Put it all together and you get 21st century baseball. Pitchers aren't wusses today and their ligaments aren't any more tender; in fact, they're bigger, stronger, better conditioned and more adept than ever before. They just have a more strenuous job.


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