4.06.2007
Who Wants to Be My New Favorite Pitcher?
Back in 1992 the Braves, looking to temporarily patch the back of their rotation down the stretch of an August pennant race, had called up Armando Reynoso, who had been signed a year before from Saltillo of the Mexican League, to take the mound against the San Francisco Giants. I remember watching Reynoso take his warmups as the TBS announcers reeled off the impressive list of pitches he commanded: four-seam fastball, two-seam fastball, curveball, slider, splitter, knuckle curve, probably a changeup somewhere in there too.
I was twelve years old, just becoming a pitcher myself, and this was fascinating stuff. I'd spent a year and a half getting sucked in by the pitching stylings of Leo Mazzone's Braves by that point, and now all of a sudden here was a guy who commanded more pitches than Avery, Glavine, Smoltz, or Liebrandt. This was gonna be great! And I didn't even know what a knuckle curve was! (Still don't, actually.)
"Dad!" I turned around. "You gotta see this guy! He's got a four-seam fastball, a two-seam fastball, curveball, knucklecurve, slider, splitfinger...."
Dad came over reluctantly from the next room. I think he may have been brushing his teeth. He took one look at the screen and started laughing.
"He's also got two runners on base with no outs and a 3-1 count," he scoffed, spitting toothpaste foam in tiny puffs.
I looked back at the TV: So he did. Reynoso had instantly become lodged in what would come to be known as his trademark predicament: at least two runners on, one or no outs, behind in the count on everyone, unable to get any momentum going which is what you really need before you can start impressing anyone with a wide repertoire of pitches, forced to pick runners off if he wanted to regain said momentum. (Turned out he also had one of the greatest pickoff moves ever for a righthander thanks to patience, persistence and quick footwork, although online evidence of this is sparse. And that second link is a PDF so be warned.)
Point is, Reynoso lasted a few years in the majors but never as anything resembling an asset, and ever since that day I've lusted for someone who can command the endless pitching arsenal and really, truly make it work. Now, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you this guy.
As you can see, this is the real thing. This dude can make a ball move just about anywhere from two o'clock to eight o'clock, with speed and with command. He has that cocksure body language, too, of a guy who knows he has about two or three more weapons at his disposal than he even needs to make you look incredibly silly. Minus the pickoff move, he is the Armando Reynoso that my inner child never had.
No doubt you've heard of him by now. In fact, the Daisuke Matsuzaka bandwagon is already enormous right now and it will only get worse as he continues to succeed. So we're left with two options. The first is to enjoy Matsuzaka's starts, each and every one of them, and meanwhile manage to abstain from all other baseball coverage on ESPN, ESPN.com, Yahoo, CBS Sportsline, BP, and all the rest. (If it helps, YouTube has quite the treasure trove of his outings, going all the way back to his high school days.) That way it'll be possible to feel as if the Matsuzaka phenomenon is somehow still all your own, much in the way that it was possible, say, for me to enjoy RJD2's "Ghostwriter" right up until it stared appearing in commercials, big-budget movie trailers, sports arenas, etc.
(Bonus link: Here's Daisuke in the 1999 Asian Championship. Japan wins the game, but check out Jun-Nan Tsai, the guy going for Taiwan. Must make Ismael Valdes feel like he's wasted his whole life.)
I was twelve years old, just becoming a pitcher myself, and this was fascinating stuff. I'd spent a year and a half getting sucked in by the pitching stylings of Leo Mazzone's Braves by that point, and now all of a sudden here was a guy who commanded more pitches than Avery, Glavine, Smoltz, or Liebrandt. This was gonna be great! And I didn't even know what a knuckle curve was! (Still don't, actually.)
"Dad!" I turned around. "You gotta see this guy! He's got a four-seam fastball, a two-seam fastball, curveball, knucklecurve, slider, splitfinger...."
Dad came over reluctantly from the next room. I think he may have been brushing his teeth. He took one look at the screen and started laughing.
"He's also got two runners on base with no outs and a 3-1 count," he scoffed, spitting toothpaste foam in tiny puffs.
I looked back at the TV: So he did. Reynoso had instantly become lodged in what would come to be known as his trademark predicament: at least two runners on, one or no outs, behind in the count on everyone, unable to get any momentum going which is what you really need before you can start impressing anyone with a wide repertoire of pitches, forced to pick runners off if he wanted to regain said momentum. (Turned out he also had one of the greatest pickoff moves ever for a righthander thanks to patience, persistence and quick footwork, although online evidence of this is sparse. And that second link is a PDF so be warned.)
Point is, Reynoso lasted a few years in the majors but never as anything resembling an asset, and ever since that day I've lusted for someone who can command the endless pitching arsenal and really, truly make it work. Now, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you this guy.
As you can see, this is the real thing. This dude can make a ball move just about anywhere from two o'clock to eight o'clock, with speed and with command. He has that cocksure body language, too, of a guy who knows he has about two or three more weapons at his disposal than he even needs to make you look incredibly silly. Minus the pickoff move, he is the Armando Reynoso that my inner child never had.
No doubt you've heard of him by now. In fact, the Daisuke Matsuzaka bandwagon is already enormous right now and it will only get worse as he continues to succeed. So we're left with two options. The first is to enjoy Matsuzaka's starts, each and every one of them, and meanwhile manage to abstain from all other baseball coverage on ESPN, ESPN.com, Yahoo, CBS Sportsline, BP, and all the rest. (If it helps, YouTube has quite the treasure trove of his outings, going all the way back to his high school days.) That way it'll be possible to feel as if the Matsuzaka phenomenon is somehow still all your own, much in the way that it was possible, say, for me to enjoy RJD2's "Ghostwriter" right up until it stared appearing in commercials, big-budget movie trailers, sports arenas, etc.
(Bonus link: Here's Daisuke in the 1999 Asian Championship. Japan wins the game, but check out Jun-Nan Tsai, the guy going for Taiwan. Must make Ismael Valdes feel like he's wasted his whole life.)
Labels: boston red sox, daisuke, wistful remembrance
