Mad Dog 20-20, Retirement Edition
Posted: December 6th, 2008 | Filed under: Baseball, Essays | 80 Comments »
Here’s an underrated great part of my job: The mail. Every week, more or less, I will get two or three great things in the mail. Often it will be a fun book — like I got this terrific book the other day called, Odd Man Out, by (apparently) a brilliant reader of this site named Matt McCarthy. Matt is now an intern at Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center, but the book is about the fifteen games he started in the minor leagues in 2002, and how they altered his life. That’s a hard kind of book to write … I’ve read quite a few failures on that front. But this one is outstanding.
Sometimes, I will get a Bruce Springsteen bootleg CD in the mail. People in the Springsteen community are VERY generous folks. Sometimes I will get a newspaper clipping or an old Duane Kuiper baseball card or an old Cleveland Browns media guide or a chippy letter from Chiefs president/general manager Carl Peterson. I’ve gotten packages of pasta in the mail (don’t ask) and a bouquet of flowers (DEFINITELY don’t ask) and complete set of Baseball Joe books* from the 20th Century.
*I have never read the books, but I just popped on to the Baseball Joe Wikipedia page … and it says this: “The books are marked by a pervasive anti-semitism; Joe’s most persistent enemy is Jewish and over simply referred to as â€the Jew.“ Great! Wikipedia is never afraid to give it to you straight. Guess I’m leaving those books in the old box.
Perhaps the coolest thing I’ve gotten in the mail recently was a little package from a brilliant reader (I cannot find the name, but thank you) that had a DVD in it — simply marked:
Braves
vs
Yankees
2 July 1997.
In case you missed it, I wrote a post on that game not all that long ago. That was my favorite ever Greg Maddux game. And yes, I do rank my Greg Maddux games … well, Maddux was my favorite pitcher (non-childhood division).
I have tried a few times to explain the Maddux Connection (â€the lovers, Greg Maddux and meâ€) and have never done much of a job. I think it’s like this: There are athletes you admire, athletes who astound you, athletes you just want to succeed for any number of reasons. But then there is another kind of athlete, and though it’s hard to put into words, I suspect you will know what I mean: There are athletes who are just with you with on the field. You have that direct line. You plot with them, you anticipate their moves, you sense their feelings … or anyway, you think that you do.
I remember I used to feel that way as a kid about Brian Sipe when he was the quarterback of the Cleveland Browns. Sipe was this California surfer dude who had about the weakest arm of any starting quarterback in NFL history — he would throw footballs and the wind would catch them and blow them backward. It was like he was throwing one of those cheap-looking air-filled gum-drop balls you always see in the 10-foot high wire baskets at every toy store — by the way, how exactly are you supposed to get one of those balls out of there without going through some elaborate, steal-the-keys-off-Barney’s-belt scheme where you stick your arm into the cage and try to work the ball up and then throw it through the top opening?
Sorry. Distracted. One thing about Brian Sipe though; the guy would do anything he could to beat you*. And after a while, I started to feel like I was on the same wave length as Brian — I could kind of feel when he would get hot, could kind of feel when he was getting frustrated, could sense in a heightened way what was going on with the guy — I hope this isn’t sounding weird and Star Warrish (â€He’s my … brother“), I just believe there are certain players in our lives we just GET.
*I am still convinced that Sipe ran the tightest two-minute drill in football history. Sipe would always seem to make the right decisions, he would always make the quick and smart throw to the sidelines, he would get his teammates lined up almost instantly, he NEVER wasted time at the line calling some new play or barking out signals (he would just step to the line and say “Hike†and the ball would snap back). He spoiled me, really; to this day I cannot STAND watching sloppy two-minute drills and to be honest they’re ALL sloppy two-minute drills to me. Sipe didn’t always win in the two minute, he didn’t even MOSTLY win in the two-minute, but he won enough and even when he failed it was always a valiant effort. Well, all except one.
Maddux was like that for me. I never presumed to think with Maddux or have a deeper understanding of why he was so good. I just loved watching him pitch, loved the whole scene, loved seeing the frustration batters would show, loved the way umpires over the course of a game became willing co-coconspirators, loved the way catchers would just let the ball tumble into the glove without moving, loved the way Maddux would fidget when he didn’t have all of his stuff working, loved it all. He was Mozart, I was Salieri, and no I couldn’t reproduce it, no I couldn’t get close to it, but I felt like I could hear the music.
Of course, it has been more than eleven years since I saw that 1997 game, and it has been almost as long since I saw THAT Greg Maddux pitch. The last six years, Maddux has been OK, an average pitcher some years, a little better than average others, and he would show a few hints of his younger self. I always admired Maddux for continuing to pitch as long as he enjoyed it, as long as he felt like himself out there, but let’s not kid anybody: Six years is a long time. Six years takes young baseball fans from ten to sixteen — and I suppose those young baseball fans wonder what’s the big deal about the guy. They can appreciate he was crafty — the rare crafty righty. They can appreciate he had great control. They can even appreciate the amazing numbers if they care enough to look them up — 127-53, 2.15 ERA from 1992-98, and he posted a 191 ERA+ over that time perioud, just as baseball was going home run mad. Nobody — not Clemens, not Unit, not Pedro, not Cone, not Glavine, had ANYTHING CLOSE to a 191 ERA+ over those seven years.
ERA+ from 1992-1998 (minimum 1,000 innings pitched):
1. Maddux, 191 ERA+ (1,675 IP)
2. Clemens, 153 ERA+ (1,490 IP)
3. Unit, 146 ERA+ (1,370 IP)
4. Pedro, 145 ERA+ (1,146 IP)
5. Kevin Appier, 141 ERA+ (1,265 IP)
6. David Cone, 141 ERA+ (1,379 IP)
7. Tom Glavine, 137 ERA+ (1,533 IP)
8. Kevin Brown, 135 ERA+ (1,568 IP)
9. John Smoltz 129 ERA+ (1,495 IP)
10. Mike Mussina, 129 ERA+ (1,481 IP)
Now, of course, I’m cherry-picking Maddux’s best years, but the point is not to say that Maddux was BETTER than any of those other pitchers — pick other years and Pedro or Clemens or Unit could be out front — no, it’s only to say that for those seven years he was dominant in a way that is probably very hard for a young fan to understand. How did he do it? And I suspect it’s probably not especially revealing to talk again about how smart he was, how well he broke down hitters weaknesses, how brilliantly he strategized, how much his pitches moved. Sure those things are true … but HOW did he do it?
I went back to the video. And I studied that amazing 1997 game against the New York Yankees pitch by pitch.
The Yankees lineup that day, just as background:
Derek Jeter, ss
Joe Girardi, c
Paul O’Neill, rf
Cecil Fielder, dh
Tino Martinez, 1b
Wade Boggs, 3b
Hard hittin’ Mark Whiten, lf
Chad Curtis, cf
Pat Kelly, 2b
Bernie Williams, ph
A few tidbits: Tino had 28 home runs at the time — there was this rumbling that he could break Maris’ record. … Bernie was coming off a hamstring injury; he was in the middle of his greatest season to that point. This was his first game back and he only pitch-hit in the ninth … Jeter was not an icon yet, it was only his second year, and he looks very young and easily frustrated … They had AFLAC Trivia questions but the duck had not yet become the company symbol … Dwight Gooden was pitching for the Yankees and he pitched quite well.
And here’s are the main pitches Greg Maddux threw:
1. His patented fastball. I call it “Patented†throughout the game. That was a fastball that Maddux would throw on the outside corner (or off the outside corner, not the umpires always made that fine distinction). He threw it somewhere in the 85 mph range — often quite a lot slower — and it really flopped around, lots of movement, it looked like he was throwing a wiffleball. Sometimes it was more changeup than fastball, sometimes more cutter than fastball, it was really a Transformers pitch. But the important thing is he threw it on the outside corner, both sides of the plate, and as you will see, he threw it A LOT.
2. Fastball up and in. This was his fastball, only he threw it a little harder and he really got it up into a batter’s grill … with the batter looking outside for that patented fastball, they would jam themselves in very comical ways.
3. Fastball in. He didn’t throw this that often, but it might have been his most effective strikeout pitch. He would throw it WAY in, batters would give up on it, the ball would come back over the inside corner of the plate (or close enough) and the umpire would ring ‘em up. Maddux would occasionally throw the cut fastball in to right-handed batters for the same effect.
4. Circle change. This looked a lot like the cut fastball only it would be slower and do even more wiffleball type things, including dive out of the strike zone like it had fallen into a manhole. Maddux mixed it in so seamlessly that even on replays it was sometimes hard to determine what was the fastball, what was the change-up.
5. Curveball. He didn’t throw it much, but when he did throw it the ball started high and then took the roller coaster down. Almost impossible to hit unless Maddux hung it … the best thing to do was recognize it and not swing.
That was about it — five pitches, though his pitches often blended, cutters that could be called sliders and fastballs that could be called change-ups and and whatever else. He really was a mad scientist out there. But essentially, it was those five pitches, and really it was almost always Pitch 1 or Pitch 2.
And here is how it worked on July 2, 1997:
* * *
First inning
Derek Jeter: Up and in (foul); patented (strike), patented (strike three).
Maddux realized right away that he had a friend in umpire John Hirschbeck on this day. The first pitch was that fluttering fastball up and in, and Jeter (looking outside like you had to for Maddux) fouled it off like he was fighting off bees. The second pitch was on the outside corner. The third pitch was probably four or five inches outside, but HIrschbeck was mesmerized. Jeter complained. There would be more complaints before the end.
Joe Girardi: Patented (grounder to second).
Girardi was of the belief that there was no point in waiting with Maddux — he had been Maddux’s catcher and realized that the guy wasn’t going to make a mistake so you might as well swing at the first pitch that looks decent. Maddux’ fastball fluttered on the outside corner, and there’s nothing a righty can do with that pitch, nothing at all, so Girardi grounded out.
Paul O’Neill: Patented (ball — outside), changeup (dirt, ball 2), fastball (middle of plate, fouled back), patented (strike, 2-2), patented (down and away, ball 3), patented (groundout to second).
Here was probably the best battle of the day … Maddux clearly respected O’Neill and tried to be fine. Most of the time, he did not respect the hitter enough to try and be too fine — just go get ‘em. The key pitch here came on 2-1, when Maddux threw his patented fastball at least four inches off the plate but got the Hirschbeck strike call. O’Neill griped … for good reason. If that’s called a ball, the count is 3-1, and Maddux (who had not walked anyone in three games leading into this one) has to make a decision. But Maddux’s brilliant control along with his great respect rarely put him in those 3-1 counts (he only got in thirty-four 3-1 counts all year; and do you know how many 3-0 counts he had all year? Not including his intentional walks, he got in ONE).
So, in those days, Maddux always, always, always either had control of the count or was on even terms with the hitters. O’Neill knew immediately how much that strike call hurt him. He swung at the 3-2 pitch though it may have worked its way off the plate … he knew that Maddux would get the call.
Second inning
Cecil Fielder: Patented (strike), up and in (ground to short).
The perfect Maddux at-bat. He throws the fastball on the outside corner, the ump gives him the strike, Fielder complains about it. Next pitch Maddux throws it up-and-in, a frustrated Fielder saws himself off and grounds out easily.
Tino Martinez: Patented (strike), curveball up (strike), fastball in (strike three).
The beauty of this one is that Martinez was absolutely certain that none of those pitches were strikes. Hard to tell — the patented fastball on the outside corner to start off the at-bat was probably a strike, or certainly it had been CALLED a strike all day. The curveball was up and could have been called a ball, but Maddux throws so few curveballs that I think it surprised everybody. Then he threw that tailing fastball inside, and it probably didn’t make it back over the plate.But to be perfectly honest, Martinez was so baffled during this at-bat it was probably better to just send him back to the dugout where it was safe.
Wade Boggs: Fastball up (fouled away), hard fastball outside (ball), curveball (fouled down), patented (liner to short).
Boggs provided a unique challenge to Maddux … he’s one of those guys who LOVED outside fastballs. That patented pitch fit his swing perfectly. So Maddux had to try some different things with Boggs, and as you will see, he did all day long. The fastball up to start the at-bat was definitely a mistake and Boggs just missed it; and then Maddux threw what was probably a 90-91 mph fastball off the plate — he COULD throw that hard when he wanted to shake up things. Then he threw another curveball, and Boggs got on top of it. Maddux thought he had Boggs set up at this point, and he brought out his patented fastball, but Boggs hit it hard to short. Maddux got to the out, but I’m sure he felt like he did not win the at-bat.
Third inning
Hard hittin’ Mark Whiten: Fastball up and away (ball), patented (fouled back), up and in (bloop single).
When Maddux was going good, the only way anyone seemed likely to get a hit off him was if they could somehow fist his up-and-in fastball over an infielder’s head. That’s just what Mark Whiten did. i always loved Maddux’s face after a a batter blooped a hit off him; it’s the same face Tiger Woods has when a putt breaks a little too much … sort of this disgusted, â€You have GOT to be kidding me,“ look.
Chad Curtis: Fastball (ground out to second — Whiten to second base).
Joe Torre called for the hit-and-run, and Maddux actually missed his location with the fastball, got too much of the plate. But the ball still moved so much that Curtis couldn’t really do anything with it. Maddux always had his his off fielder stay at home during running situations — so when a righty like Curtis was batting, he would have the shortstop cover second base and the second baseman stay put. When a lefty was batting, he would go the opposite way and have the second baseman cover. It was pretty simple really: Maddux lived on the outside of the plate, and he simply was not worried about someone pulling his pitches.
Maddux picks off Hard hittin’ Mark Whiten.
Maddux is, of course, one of the greatest fielding pitchers in baseball history — he has won 18 Gold Gloves. But even so, I’m not sure it is fully appreciated how much that has helped him succeed. It’s like he got two or three outs every game by doing something good defensively. In this case, he whirled and made the PERFECT throw to second base, right on the corner of the bag, that picked off Whiten. And just like that, without throwing a pitch, he eliminated what turned out to be the only run-scoring threat of the entire game.
Pat Kelly: Fastball down (ball), patented (strike), curveball (fly ball to center)
That patented fastball in the middle there was probably outside by six inches, but Pat Kelly — perhaps realizing that he was Pat Kelly — took it in stride and did not complain. It was like he was saying: “Heck, if Paul O’Neill isn’t getting that call, you know I’m not.†I respect that. Kelly actually lifted the curveball in the air, which was an achievement on this day.
Fourth inning
Derek Jeter: Patented (strike), down and away (ball), up and in (grounder to third).
Jeter was one of those Yankees getting really frustrated with HIrschbeck’s calls. I want to be fair here — some of Hirschbeck’s strike calls are definitely shaky (and they would get progressively moreso) but the truth is that some of the complaints are jjust sour grapes about pitches that probably ARE legitimate strikes. This is what Maddux did game after game. He blurred the line. He got players to complain about pitches that were probably strikes and barely blink at pitches that were probably balls. He got batters to look outside when he threw in, and inside when he threw out. He definitely made it all very confusing. Jeter sawed himself off on the up-and-in fastball and hit a very soft ground ball to Chipper Jones at third.
Joe Girardi: Patented (strike), patented (ball), down and away (ball 2), fastball heart of plate (line drive single to right).
A mistake! This was a bonafide mistake, and again it was probably driven by the umpire — Maddux threw that patented fastball on the outside corner at 0-1 and HIrschbeck called it a ball. It WAS a ball, but that’s not the point; the umpire CALLED IT a ball, so Girardi was actually able to dig himself into a favorable hitting count. Maddux tried to come in with his fastball, but he left it over the plate and Girardi cracked it to right for a single. Of course, Maddux’s mistakes back then still had so much movement that a batter couldn’t really do much more than go the other way for a single, but at this point the Yankees will take anything.
Paul O’Neill: Patented (ball), fastball (crushed up the middle, Jeff Blauser stabs it, and starts the 6-4-3 double play).
Best hit ball of the night. Maddux again had his patented fastball called a ball, putting him behind in the count. He tried to sneak the fastball over the center, and O’Neill really crushed it. Off the bat it seemed like a single for sure, but for some reason Blauser was playing him up the middle and was in perfect position to start the double play. Here is another one of Maddux’s secrets: He (and the coaches) really were masterful at positioning fielders. It seemed like once or twice every game somebody would have a sure hit, only there would be a fielder standing where there should have been empty space.
Fifth inning
Cecil Fielder: Up and away (ball), curveball (fouled away), curveball (ball), patented (strike), change-up (grounder second).
One of Maddux’s favorite out-pitches was his throw-for-the-middle circle change — he would start it in the middle of the plate and let it move wherever it wanted to move. It was a good pitch but the set-up was key. He could not live off that pitch because he would occasionally leave it up, and an up change-up was about the only truly hittable Greg Maddux pitch in those seven years when he was just about unhittable.
One more thought about the patented fastballs: They looked alike — outside corner, lots of movement, etc. — but they were all a little bit different, like snowflakes. They came at different speeds, had slightly different movements, I think he mixed in a change-up grip, a cut-fastball grip, he used different pressure points all the time. It’s sort of an unnameable pitch, which is why I keep referring to it as the â€patented“ pitch. He should patent it, by the way. He could make millions. Call it the Maddux.
Tino Martinez: Down and away (ball), patented (ball 2), fastball away (foul), patented (grounder to first, Maddux covering).
Tino is all fouled up. He tried to pull Maddux’s patented outside fastball, which is just a wasted at-bat. Tino’s miss was the 2-0 count pitch — getting a 2-0 count from Greg Maddux was like a gift from the Gods (only 67 2-0 counts all year — just about two per game). Tino fouled off a hittable and relatively straight fastball on 2-0.
Wade Boggs: Low fastball (strike), up and in (pop up to third).
You know that old cliche about how Maddux would never throw the same pitch to a batter twice. I never entirely bought that because, let’s be honest, there are only so many things any pitcher can throw. The plate is only so wide. To me this is like when they talk about some new genius defense that a basketball coach has come up with … I have no doubt that coaches can create all sorts of defensive havoc and invent all sorts of new wrinkles. But in the end — you have five guys. You are defending one basket. I mean, I think there are only so many ways you can go.
But it was fascinating to watch Maddux deal with Boggs. Here was one of two guys in the lineup (O’Neill was the other) who was relatively immune to his kryptonite pitch. So this time he started Boggs off with a low fastball that HIrschbeck generously called a strike. Boggs was never worried about hitting behind in the count, and he continued to focus on getting a pitch he could drive the other way. Maddux came up and in, and Boggs did what he almost never did — he jammed himself and hit an infield pop-up.
Sixth inning
Hard Hittin’ Mark Whiten: Up and away (ball), patented (grounder to second).
Maddux wasn’t going to get cute with Whiten again … this time he just threw hi money pitch, and Whiten kindly tried to pull it and grounded out to Mark Lemke at second base.
Chad Curtis: Patented (strike), curveball (outside, ball), patented (foul back), cut fastball (strike three swinging).
A little power pitching for Maddux against Curtis — he blew Curtis away with that cut fastball that was probably five or six miles per hour faster than his usual pitching. This was another great thing about Maddux during his prime; he could change the sort of pitcher he was depending on the quality of batter and mood of the moment. This time, realizing that that he was facing Chad Curtis and that had him down 1-2, Maddux decided to simply blow him away with a hard fastball that broke away from him, almost a hard slider. Curtis, who had to be looking for about 12 other pitches, had no chance, and whiffed helplessly.
Pat Kelly: Curveball (bounced back to pitcher).
Maddux had this beautiful disdain for bad hitters. He didn’t want to make them look bad; he just wanted to get them out fast so he could move on the game that mattered. He used to look SO annoyed when bad hitters managed hits off him. Pat Kelly faced Maddux ten times in his career … and got just one hit. This time he graciously swung at the first curveball he saw and chopped it back to Maddux.
Seventh inning
Derek Jeter: Patented (strike), patented (strike), down and away (ball), curveball (strikeout swinging).
Man, Jeter was frustrated. He had a right — HIrschbeck did him no favors with those first two called strikes. Plus it was beginning to rain. Plus Maddux had that Mad Dog thing going now … he was out on the mound warming up before the Yankees were completely off the field after the top of the inning. Maddux was just in that â€let’s go, come on, next batter, let’s go“ mode, like he had dinner plans after the game or a late-night flight to catch. The curveball he threw to strike out Jeter was probably his most dazzling pitch of the night, a 12-6 curveball that had Blyleven spin on it. Jeter swung about a foot over the top of it and grumbled back to the dugout.
Joe Girardi: Patented (foul), patented (strike), patented (strikeout looking).
Let’s, go, let’s go, let’s go. Places to go, people to see, come on, it’s raining out here, who is the next batter? Girardi seemed to appreciate that Maddux was in his mode and he quietly went back to the dugout after three pitches.
Paul O’Neill: patented (strike), fastball up (groundout to second).
Hirschbeck at this point is completely hypnotized. If a vender throws a hot dog anywhere in Yankee Stadium, Hirschbeck is calling it a strike. I don’t blame him entirely, that’s just what Maddux does to you. He shows you a patented fastball that is a strike, then shows you one that’s one tenth of an inch outside that, and so that’s a strike, and then goes four tenths of an inch outsde, and dammit that looks like a strike too, and after a while he could throw balls to the dugout and those would look like strikes too. And the thing that makes Maddux so Maddux is that, as mentioned, he mixes it up so some of these pitches really ARE strikes. He isn’t letting anybody rest.
After O’Neill fell behind 0-1 on a fastball that was probably outside, he was ready to swing at anything, and even though Maddux missed his spot, O’Neill still angrily yanked the pitch to second base for an easy out.
Eighth inning
Cecil Fielder: Patented (strike), patented (strike), patented (strikeout looking).
Here is what I wrote in my notes:
Pitch one: Patented fastball outside, a touch slower, probably a legit strike.
Pitch two: Patented fastball, laughable, not even close, called a strike, worst call of the night.
Pitch three: Patented fastball, even slower, maybe a strike, maybe, probably not.
That second pitch was a laughably bad call, and it did something — something that I think Maddux very clearly understood whenever he was the beneficiary of a bad call. Maddux had such amazing control that a bad call like that was good for TWO bad calls for him. Because he knew how to follow it up — Maddux wasn’t just pitching to a batter, he was also pitching to the umpire. After the awful call, he simply threw a patented fastball that was BETTER than the previous pitch. It may or may not have been a strike — it probably wasn’t, as I wrote — but it was so much better that Hirschbeck really had no choice but to ring up Fielder. Maddux really was a master of human nature.
Tino Martinez: Patented (fouled back), up and in (ball), patented (ball 2), fastball up (fly ball to centerfield).
When Maddux was dominant like on this day, it was a shocker to see a ball get hit in the air. The Braves announcer — Skip Caray — said, â€That ball is well hit to center field“ when Tino lifted the ball in the air. Only it really wasn’t, it was an utterly routine fly ball. On this day, though, it looked like Josh Hamilton in the Home Run Derby.
Wade Boggs: Patented (strike), up and in (fly ball to short right field).
I mentioned the human nature thing … one of the things that I have spent a lot of time talking about with Kansas City Royals pitcher Brian Bannister is this idea of knowing a hitter’s mindset when he comes to the plate. Some hitters go up there ready to trigger on the first good thing they see, some go up there ready to look at a few pitches and work the count and so on. A pitcher sort of has to guess at the mindset; that’s where the poker playing comes in. Boggs was always viewed as a patient hitter, but he would occasionally go up there hacking, and he was very successful when he swung at the first pitch. In the first inning, in fact, Boggs swung at the first pitch.
And yet, this time Maddux seemed to KNOW that this time Boggs was not swinging first pitch. He threw his outside fastball just where Boggs liked it, but Boggs did not swing and it was a quick strike. How did Maddux know? It’s like that line from The Gambler: You paid to see the cards. Lessons are extra.
Ninth inning
Hard Hittin’ Mark Whiten: Patented (strike), change-up down (swinging strike), fastball in (strikeout looking).
That first patented fastball strike was probably the second worst call of the night — it was low and away and not particularly close in latitude or longitude. It messed up Whiten for the rest of the at-bat. Maddux finished it off with his sneaky inside fastball, the one that tails back over the plate for strike three. I suspect that however many hundreds of times he struck out batters with that pitch, EVERY SINGLE ONE complained about it. Whiten was no exception.
Chad Curtis: Up and in (ball); patented (grounded up the middle for a single).
It’s probably worth point out here that the Braves only led this game 2-0; so when Curtis singled the tying run was coming to the plate. That was another thing Maddux did: he was so good, he managed to make close games feel like routs. Up until this point, the game felt entirely out of reach. And then Curtis got the hit, and everyone realized â€Hey, a homer ties it here.“ And this is when the Yankees pinch-hit Bernie Williams, and for the first time in about an hour and a half the Yankee Stadium crowd got loud.
The crowd played a role in Maddux games too. Nobody could kill the excitement of a home crowd more than than Maddux. I mean Clemens, Pedro, Unit, those guys would obviously frustrate the heck out of crowd, but they pitched with energy, they were in your face, they were challenging you, there was electricity when they pitched. Maddux — and I say this with absolute admiration — was like the guy at a party who sucked all the energy out of the room.
In fact, you know who Maddux was like? The boxer Bernard Hopkins. He is a boxer who was never out there to wow the crowd, never cared if he got a knockout, never particularly seemed to care if he earned his respect. No, he was just out there to win matches, out there to keep his championship (he defended his middleweight title a record 20 times). Every time Hopkins fought, it seemed, there were stories asking why he was not more popular, why he was not a huge star like Oscar De La Hoya or Roy Jones or whoever, and the inescapable conclusion seemed to be that he was boring and too workmanlike — it was like watching a really skilled groundskeeper mow the outfield grass. Naturally, I loved Bernard Hopkins too.
Bernie Williams: Patented (fouled back), fastball away (ball), patented (fouled back), patented (fouled back), fastball away (ball 2), fastball in (strike three looking).
There was a lot of griping during the game … but the only real umpire outburst came at the end of this at-bat when Bernie let that inside tailing fastball go by for strike three. Bernie really turned on Hirschbeck and the crowd booed like crazy and the game was paused for a few seconds. But here, at the core, is the genius of Maddux: It was a good call. It was a very good call. The ball didn’t just ail over the inside of the plate, it probably ended up crossing somewhere close to the middle of the plate. Hirschbeck probably called five to 10 strikes during the day that were borderline, and another three or four that were just CLEARLY balls. But — and this was Maddux’s style — the one clear cut strike Maddux threw is the one that everyone freaked out about. Genius. That’s all.
Derek Jeter: Fastball up (ball); patented (ground out to second, end of game).
So in all, Maddux threw 84 pitches. Sixty four of them were called strikes. He gave up one line drive — that was to his old catcher Joe Girardi — and a blooper to Hard Hittin’ Mark Whiten, and four fly balls. Other than that it was 14 grounders and eight strikeouts. He did not walk a batter, of course, and only got to one three-ball count — that was to O’Neill back in the first inning.
It was a domination that the Yankees could not understand even after it was over. You know that expression: He never knew what hit him? That was Maddux. The Yankees griped afterward, about the umpiring, about their own impatience about their missed opportunities. And they did not appreciate that they had simply been Madduxed and there was no cure.
Greg Maddux will announce his retirement on Monday in Las Vegas, and I hope to be there for that announcement. It isn’t that I expect him to have anything all that interesting to say — that was never really his deal. And it isn’t that I hope to talk individually with him about his career — I imagine it will be a pretty involved scene. No, I just want to be there because an era ends, and it was an era that I loved. I feel pretty sure that in this case we really will never see another one quite like him.
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Good God, Joe, you have GOT to start getting paid for this site. I’ll give you money right now. At least let me buy you some Oklahoma Joe’s. This thing is an epic.
” Here is another one of Maddux’s secrets: He (and the coaches) really were masterful at positioning fielders. It seemed like once or twice every game somebody would have a sure hit, only there would be a fielder standing where there should have been empty space.”
This was one of the untold stories of the Braves’ dynasty. The had one of the best groups of advance scouts in baseball. The 1995 championship came, in part, because the Braves had scouted the bejeezus out of the Indians and Reds weeks before the post-season. I have not — before or since — seen a team that used so many different defensive configuration to such success. It works when you have pitchers like Glavine and Maddux who can pitch with the defense and not cross them up.
Great read. It was an enjoyable thing to find on an otherwise cold and dreary Saturday. The comment about human nature is an incredible point. It is amazing at how well Maddux “got it.” It is even more amazing that he was able to use his talents in a way to take advantage of the fact that he “got it.”
One small question I have is that Maddux never seemed to do very well in Denver. I would think that if anyone could have, he would have been able to use the Denver quirks to his advantage. Maybe a topic for later, or a question you could ask him.
Again, thanks for a great post.
“Maddux was just in that â€let’s go, come on, next batter, let’s go“ mode, like he had dinner plans after the game or a late-night flight to catch. ”
When he was in the groove, we would say he pitched like his car was double-parked.
That was wonderful, Joe!
You mention the disgust on Maddux’s face when a hitter, especially a weak one, would bloop a single. I always remember seeing that face in one game. Maddux was getting, as usual, groundballs and strikeouts, until one hitter hit a fly ball to right field—not deep, mind you, just a regular medium-distance fly ball. Maddux appeared to swear at himself in anger, and his face seemed to say, “How could I be so careless as to let him hit it out of the infield!?”
Maddux is the only pitcher that I have ever seen who could think a routine out a mistake.
Also, the best thing about Maddux retiring is that perhaps he will write a book on pitching. (And if he doesn’t feel like writing said book, well, I think that we should sue.)
After reading through the intro, I got to the first inning and though, “You’re kidding, right? We’re not really going to go pitch-by-pitch through an entire game.” But you did go pitch-by-pitch, and as usual it was a great read. Thanks, Joe.
Wow, Joe, that was fantastic. Thank you for taking all that time to put it together; I now feel like I’ve seen the game.
I’ll sure miss Maddux.
i remember those years of maddux well… i lived about 90 minutes drive from cincinnati and, being a reds fan, a masochist, and just having obtained a drivers license a few weeks before i figured i could talk my parents into letting me drive to cincy by myself for a game. so i guess it would have been 1993.
and i had it picked out, maddux vs. rijo, sunday night game i think. i don’t think i can remember it in as much detail as this post (pretty amazing, joe, even with the dvd to watch…) but i do remember
1) it was hot. it was a night game, but it was still really hot and humid at game time. i think it was august. i do remember the reds being pretty much out of the pennant race but there was still a good crowd for the game, probably because the braves usually drew well in cincy in those days and the pitching matchup promised to be good.
2) since i was buying a single i managed to get a really great seat about 15 rows up at field level on the 1b side.
3) the game took approximately 38 minutes to play (this may be a bit exaggerated in my memory). maddux threw a shutout, i think rijo gave up one run in 7 or 8 innings and had like 10 strikeouts. seriously, like i bought a pretzel before i got to my seat and it was like the 7th inning by the time i finished eating it.
it was probably the best ever pitching performance by two pitchers combined i’d ever seen in person at the time. and i’d never seen anything like maddux and rijo that night.
so, the rest of those braves years, i would drive down to almost every maddux start in cincinnati i could get to, pay a sometimes reasonable, sometimes ridiculous amount for a single ticket as close as i could get, and just sit there by myself (friends, family need not apply to go watch a maddux game with me) with a scorecard and just watch the man pitch. and since i usually didn’t have the time/money to drive down that often, it meant i spend most of the 90s specifically choosing games where i could watch my favorite team get dominated.
i don’t think i ever saw him throw another one as good as that first one, but i swear i never saw the reds get more than two runs off him from about 93-99. i recall the reds getting to him for like 5 or 6 runs in atlanta during that incredible year in ‘95, i remember watching on tv and just being shocked. just watching the way he worked on the mound was enough, even if it didn’t always yield a shutout (it seems he did win a lot more often than not, though, and there were a lot of quick games).
Joe, I think it’s pretty cool that you just live-blogged an eleven-year-old baseball game from mid-July of an otherwise relatively unremarkable year (except for Florida winning the WS, I suppose).
I didn’t read it all, but keep doin’ what you’re doin’.
Your memory is quote good RPA. I looked it up on retrosheet. August 15, 1993. Rijo throws seven innings, K’s 11. Maddux tosses a shutout. Time of game – 2:16.
The game he pitched twenty days later against the Cubs is almost as impressive:
http://www.baseball-reference.com/boxes/CHN/CHN199707221.shtml
Nine innings, 76 pitches, 13 balls.
mike s – ok, 2:16. i’ll buy that.
i do remember telling my parents that it was a late start (it had to have been a sunday night game now that i think about it) and at best i’d be home by like 1:00 if i stayed for the whole game and they were surprised when i showed up a little before midnight. i remember my mom (of course she stayed up until i got home) saying “i guess the game wasn’t very good? you’re home early”.
heh.
heh.
Maddux was always a treat to watch in his prime, though I admittedly didn’t get to see as much of him as I would have liked.
I will say, though, that I kind of relished the NLCS game in which Eric Gregg rang up 15 Braves. Livan was nowhere near the plate for a bunch of called strikes. As the Braves muttered and complained, a part of me sort of thought “now they know how opposing hitters when facing Maddux and Glavine.”
Joe, I enjoyed reading this. Great point on Maddux’s gold gloves. The guy may have been the greatest fielding pitcher of all time.He seldom hurt himself.
I miss baseball so much right now and being able to go pitch by pitch I could see the game taking place. Thanks for doing your part in helping us get through the off-season.
I’m a Mets fan. I spent my entire childhood knowing that Maddux was the enemy of all that is good in the world, and yet knowing he was a good guy. It was impossible to hate him. I loved watching him pitch. There are so many emotions mixed up in his retirement; I’m exhausted just trying to figure out how to feel.
ian, i feel similar as a reds fan, although after the realignment in ‘95 it was a bit easier to take because we didn’t have to see the braves as often.
well, except for when maddux (and the rest of the braves pitchers) destroyed the reds in 4 straight in the playoffs in 1995.
wow. that was the last time the reds were in the playoffs. we suck, and how.
I’m a lifelong Mets fan, and for some reason, I was always cool with getting beat by Maddux. Sort of how if you were in a paint-off against Da Vinci, part of you would want to win REALLY bad, and another part of you wouldn’t want to win because its nice when genius affirms itself. I like watching Federer take over a match. I couldn’t help but respect when Jordan beat my Knicks and everyone else, and I’ll forever be in awe of the things Lemiux and Jagr did in Mario’s prime (in a game on a flat sheet of ice involving wooden sticks and a metal disk. That’s how it was with Maddux. I wanted to win, but it didn’t seem right that he should get beat.
In the words of Ted Williams, Maddux was a genius “baseballically” speaking.
I’ve often wondered what goes on in a player’s head when this guy or the other is behind the plate. Did George Brett know or suspect he’d get a collar because so-and-so was calling the balls and strikes?
Are there Patton moments when your soul shouts out in your best George C. Scott voice, “Rommel, you son of a bitch! I read your book!”?
I betcha the Mad Dog had a lot of those moments.
OK, so I have one small problem here. You make it seem like Maddux’s brilliance was largely dependent on less-than-perfect (and perhaps incompetent) umpiring. I doubt very much that you meant to do that, but here’s my question: If the games were being called by machine, how much would that have affected Maddux? He still would have been a great pitcher, I’m sure, but I suspect that not getting those calls would have hurt him more than anyone else.
By the tim I got to Bernie’s K, I was teary. I remember this game like yesterday… in my mom’s bedroom because the other TV was being used. I sat on the foot of her bed and watched on a 19″ screen. I stood for the 9th. I miss Maddux. He is still my hero.
There are plenty of arguments for eliminating Errors and Earned/Unearned runs, and I’m not going to go there right now. On the other hand, I believe that errors committed by the pitcher should lead to Earned Runs rather than Unearned. Do that, and most pitchers’ ERAs go up a bit. I’ve got to think that Maddux’s would suffer less…
I’ve always wanted to ask him if his “perfect game” was 81 consecutive strikes, or 27 weak first-pitch groundouts.
excellent article joe.
greg maddux has always been the best pitcher i have ever seen. i first saw him pitch for the peoria chiefs (cubs single A) in 1985 when i was 9 years old. he went 13-9 3.19/1.23 with 186 innings pitched and made 27 starts. i was sold, and remained so until the end.
i feel honored that i got to witness his career, and i will miss him. i grew up with greg maddux.
now i get to plan my first trip to cooperstown to see his induction speech.
-steven
Back when Mazzone was the Braves’ pitching coach, he told this story about Maddux. Mazzone said that they would go over an opposing team’s batters before every game. If the advance scouts said that they should pitch a guy a certain way, and Maddux suggested pitching the guy a different way, Mazzone said they would always go with Maddux’s recommendation. I’ve read elsewhere as well that Maddux did a much better job than most of understanding what a particular batter was looking for. He did it with a combination of past history, the batter’s body language, and where he stood in the box.
I often wonder if it wasn’t really Maddux who was the real pitching coach on those successful Braves teams. He seemed to embrace Mazzone’s dictates on pitching, e.g., the importance of working the low outside corner. Was that because Mazzone won him over, or was Mazzone just adopting what he learned from Maddux?
I grew up with a father who was a huge Braves fan and I used to watch Maddux pitch all the time, and my dad would explain all of these things. I probably enjoy Greg Maddux more than any baseball player that has ever lived, ever.
I saw Maddux throw a shutout in those days, and his ERA went up. Or it sure seemed like that.
I loved Mussina about like this, and have always been more of an AL guy. I would love for them to be enshrined together.
Let’s also not forget his great commercial — chicks dig the long ball:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ltD21rYWVw
Ah, now Mark Lemke, that name takes me back…
Saw that guy play a lot in Richmond for the AAA Braves. Like Ryan Klesko, it took forever for him to get the call up to the show even though it was clear he was better than most minor leaguers.
Another one of those “better than AAA, but not quite good enough for the majors” players, lost somewhere in the nether regions of baseball purgatory.
My God Joe.
I know what you mean.
Willie Lanier was my guy.
[...] The rest is [...]
Awesome. But how do you get your wife to let this happen? I mean, this thing took like six hours, right?
That was fantastic. I think i found a typo though. In paul o’neill’s ab in the 7th, you wrote he “angrily yanked the pitch to second base”. I believe that first word is spelled “passionately” or “fierily”.
I recall Maddux’s frustration when he’d allow those bloop hits. But at the same time, I always felt like bad hitters (and pitchers at the plate) frustrated him a little more than some others. It was as if he couldn’t out-think some guys who weren’t thinking themselves.
I think the Cecil Fielder AB in the 8th is th emost succinct retort I’ve ever read to those who said umpires “gave” Maddux (and Glavine) the outside corner. It’s not that they were given it, but that they worked for it. They knew the human nature, and knew how to fool the ump as well as they fooled the hitters. But to do that you have to have excellent location. Lesser pitchers simply couldn’t work the umps as well as Maddux.
I mean, for crying out loud, this guy is #10 on the career strikeout list with that heat? How will I ever explain that to my son? I’ll need to show him this column…
As a DIED HARD Royals fan one of the monst frustraing things to watch was a POOR Royals pitcher throw a pitch that was called a BALL and MADDOX would get a called Strike on a pitchs in the same location. On the Flip side, maybe upon the Maddox retirement, the Royals will get the pitching MOJO back from ATLANTA. Maybe Banny will inherit the RESIDUE.
An awesome post…I grew up a Phils fan and remember that look of disgust he gave most of the hitters in our crappy late 90s lineups.
Ah, I remember somebody posting in the comments section of the last Maddux post saying he had the DVD. Gee, now I want one of those.
Anyways, I’m a big Maddux fan now, but I missed out on most of his wonder years because of a petty grudge. I was a 10-year-old Indians fan in 1995, and when the Braves won the World Series, I swore I would hate the Braves forever. Since Maddux was the Braves’ best pitcher, he got a lot of hate. It took me 8 years before I finally came around to appreciating Maddux, and by then he was already on the twilight of his career.
I finally did manage to catch Maddux live at RFK last August. I couldn’t see the location of his pitches from where I was sitting, so all I saw was the Nationals slap him around for a couple of hits. Nevertheless, I did see him make a heads-up play that got Lastings Milledge caught in a run-down that saved him a couple of runs. It just goes to show that even though his stuff may have deteriorated, he still has the mindset to be a winner. I think he’ll not only be the last pitcher in a long while to get 350, but he’ll be the last to get 5,000 innings. That’s one stat that I find very impressive.
Bert Cole hates grammar, and loves the BBWAA. I can tell.
Great stuff as always Joe. There are many memories I have of Maddux. One of my favorites is when he would yell in disgust at a thrown pitch that was still on the way to home plate. His brain processed so quickly that he already knew it was not going where it was supposed to. Now maybe this is a common thing for pitchers but he’s the only guy I ever saw do this.
” I probably enjoy Greg Maddux more than any baseball player that has ever lived, ever.” MATT
Matt since you are an English profesor, in additon to a former baseball player, which baseball player enjoyed Maddox as much as you?
“Matt since you are an English profesor, in additon to a former baseball player, which baseball player enjoyed Maddox as much as you?”
only his teammates i am sure.
-steven
“One of my favorites is when he would yell in disgust at a thrown pitch that was still on the way to home plate. His brain processed so quickly that he already knew it was not going where it was supposed to. Now maybe this is a common thing for pitchers but he’s the only guy I ever saw do this.”
…and he cured cancer and figured out all the mysteries of the universe on the way to the dugout.
Clearly Maddux was a great, great pitcher, maybe the best of this generation, first ballot HOF and all that (despite 11-14 postseason record), but let’s stop making him out to be the next Einstein.
I’ve got to say, one of my favorite things about this site is that I have no idea what is coming when I visit here every day. One day it might be a list of the Royals’ follies, the next, the impact of Ben Folds during the Olympics, and now a pitch-by-pitch recount of a relatively meaningless game from over 10 years ago.
Great work.
Wow what an article. Joe, you have got to be the only sportswriter in the world that could write a play by play of an eleven year old, meaningless baseball game and have people moved to tears. I want the video to watch along with this writeup. Keep doing what your doing.
Joe,
Loved the post – Jim Hart ran a better two minute drill – God I loved the Cardiac Cards.
Bert, I don’t understand how you can misspell his name after having it written correctly in the same comment you are posting.
[...] Maddux [...]
Will Maddux’s name be the most frequently misspelled among Hall of Famers? I vote for Ripken, which for some reason is very often spelled “Ripkin” ….
I hope the Browns (as rumored) turn to Schottenheimer, just for the resulting blog post.
i am having a very difficult time thinking of baseball this season without Greg Maddux on some mound pitching. I watched from Atlanta for every season he played ,was privileged to catch many games he pitched and likely won’t know what to do this season without seeing this unique trickster define the craft of pitching a baseball and mental prowess beyond most mortals.
I will always recall sitting at Atlanta/Fulton County and watching him sit on off game days doing NY Times crosswords in the dugout WHILE watching the game.He would look up when batters that had tagged him came to the plate. With those big bug eyed specs…
I read him say one time that he sees the ball leave his hand in slow-motion and looking like a trail of milk from his arms release to the catchers glove. I guess the best see things slowed down and detailed.
This game maker, caller and designer will be the one that they remember from this generation as ‘great’. Our grandkids Grandkids will wonder at the stats and how it was during a ball-juiced,drug-muscled, homerun lovin’ period to make it all the more amazing.
This guy would have even Bobby Cox scratchin his head and Bobby has seen some pitchers in his time.
I would really like to thank him for taking my fascination and passion for the sport [ & pitching in particular) to completely new levels of appreciation and enthusiasm over the past 20 years.
Last of the old breed has finally put the glove away. I will require some mourning time even though I knew this day was gonna arrive. I thought he'd throw a few more years to be honest. But he looked tired last year and he is not the kind of athlete or competitor that would continue on without being of the calibre that can make it to the end [ World Series] and he is leaving when he still has some dignity and grace and mystique left.A professional.
God I pray he takes a pitching coach’s role like brother Mike has displayed quality doing.
This was a really well written and detailed article. I was pulled into your description as much as I was that game.
Greg Maddux > Hall Of fame > 2013. As a Brave , of course.
Very enjoyable entry.
The only pitcher I’ve ever seen whose artistry ranks ahead of Maddux was Pedro. Which isn’t to say that Maddux has any peers when it comes to baseball IQ, but I have to give the nod to Pedro at his peak over Maddux. For me, Pedro was even more enjoyable to watch (what can I say, I grew up an Expos fan) since he simply had a wider variety of excellent pitches that he would throw up to the plate, and was able to overpower hitters and miss bats all the time.
All that said, this is a comparison of two Hall of Famers. And there’s no question that Maddux put up the more impressive career totals.
They were both a joy to watch, but I will take Pedro’s 1997-2003 over any pitcher in any era. Great article though. That has to be one of the best single game performances.
Probably my most heartbreaking moment as a Cubs fan was when he left for the Braves (even more than the Marlins series). I figured if the Cubs could screw up signing a future star even though they offered the most money that we were quite screwed. And yup, we are. I don’t think many people remember how screwed up that whole deal was, with the Cubs insulting Maddux enough that he took less money to go to the Braves. Bad times.
I promised myself I wouldn’t bring up Pedro in this, because it’s a Maddux article and I always bring up Pedro when people talk about great pitchers. Or good pitchers. Or just throwing a spherical object in general. In Pedro’s best game (against the Yankees as well), he recorded the final 11 outs with 9 Ks and 2 foul outs. So, in his final 53 pitches, not a single one was even hit in fair territory.
Going back to your original Maddux article, I think this is why I’m a Pedro guy and you’re a Maddux guy. I think the perfect game is 81 strikes, 27 Ks. So Pedro is my guy. 27 pitches and 27 weak grounders… yeah I think Maddux is your guy. As a pitcher, I think I’d enjoy sending people back to the dugout thinking they just missed, and they’ll get me next time. But there’s something to be said for the Randy Johnson, “Well at least it’s over” strikeout victim.
This whole article was like a Maddux game – I started reading, saying “He’s gonna do EVERY pitch?” and before I knew it, I saw “Seventh Inning – Derek Jeter.” Amazing.
I noticed that until Bernie Williams’ out, he had faced the minimum number of batters. Only Jeter managed to see him a fourth time. The man was an artist.
Thanks Joe. It’s great to have you in the Maddux fraternity. Wish I could be in Vegas today. It got a bit misty here reading this. Today is a day that I have feared for years and knew was coming. Maddux was my favorite player ever by a long shot. In the last 5 years I would guess that 90% of all games that I watched all the way through were Maddux starts. I would never miss one. I am so glad that I drove 4 hours to DC a couple of months ago (same game AJNrules was at) to catch one of Maddux’s last starts. Maybe four years ago I drove 4 1/2 hours through a hurricaine (seriously) to Miami with my then 4 year old son to see Maddux pitch a great game against the Marlins in what might have been Al Leiters last start ever. The greatest game I ever saw Maddux pitch was a shutout in St. Pete. JBrave, I question whether or not he ever did a crossword puzzle in the dugout during a game, I seriously doubt it as this would be a breach of protocol. I’m part of a enclave of Maddux fans that have spent years emailing each new piece of info, analysis and speculation on Maddux. I wouldn’t miss the reunion in 5 years in Cooperstown.
Given what we all know about Mr. Boggs’ hitting style & ability, can someone explain why he’s hitting 6th and Girardi’s 2nd? Did Girardi’s experience with Maddux allow him to hit Greg better? Sure doesn’t look like it from this game…
I always saw Maddux as the Larry Bird of baseball. Unit was Magic Johnson: the complete opposite, yet equally dominant. Bill Walton once said about Bird: “He couldn’t do one thing better than anyone else. Hell, I can walk faster now than Bird could RUN durring his prime, but nobody, NOBODY could out-think Larry Bird.” I find that quote fitting for Maddux too…
(did I just quote Bill Walton?? …yikes…)
Could Maddux have dominated without the help of the umpires? I think not. It isn’t his fault that he was given a generous strike zone and kudos to him to take advantage of it. Aside from getting older, the difference in his recent years was that he was no longer getting those calls.
And now, some Aflac triva question trivia to wow your friends:
Aflac actually made a series of commercials in the mid-nineties starring one Ray Romano, and added the duck as a last minute add-on. When they focus-group’d the commercials, the duck tested off the charts, and they scrapped Ray…much to the delight of Brad Garrett.
Though, I don’t think I would be able to express my enjoyment if this would happen during the bottom of the third every Saturday:
[Joe Buck] — And the answer for today’s Aflac Trivia Question: Ron Kittle. He hit 34 HRs for the Chicago White Sox in 1984.
[Disembodied vioce of Peter Boyle] — HOLY CRAP!!
The first baseball and Braves game i have ever watched… World Series 1999, game 1 in Atlanta against the yankees. Maddux on the mound. I bought the ticket online a day earlier, from London, took a plane to wtach just this one game. I will never forget that night! Thank you, Greg Maddux.
[...] seasons of 15 victories, with 17. His career E.R.A. was 3.16, and his greatness is chronicled well here, by Joe [...]
What a great read…
I love the comment about how Maddux doesn’t just pitch to the batter, he pitches to the ump. My favorite “Maddux moment” has always been a game I watched during that stretch of 92-97 when he was the most dominant geek (and I mean that in the most admiring way) the sporting world has ever known.
I couldn’t tell you the year or the team (although my gut says the Giants), but Maddux is on the mound and the first batter of the game walks up to the plate. Maddux throws his patented whiffle pitch to the outside corner and it looks like a perfect strike, yet the ump calls it a ball. Maddux gives the ump a questioning look, but goes back to the rubber and throws the exact same pitch to the exact same location except it might have been a half inch lower. Again the ump calls it a ball. Maddux gives the ump a disgusted look, but gets back on the rubber and again throws the exact same pitch, to the exact same location, except he’s now moved it another half inch lower and this time the ump calls it a strike. Maddux proceeds to throw two more pitches to the same exact location for strikes two and three and the batter who hasn’t even taken the bat off of his shoulder is retired on strikes.
It was like the batter didn’t even exist.
He was amazing.
Ah, Maddux is announcing his retirement at this moment. It’s the end of an era.
Mike: Yeah, I think there’s definitely a different kind of appreciation for a Maddux than a Pedro. I actually kind of straddle the fence on it – I’m incredibly appreciative of both, if that’s allowed, though I certainly started out more on the Pedro side.
As a Red Sox fan (14 years old in 1999), I watched a lot of Pedro in his prime, and I have never before or since seen a pitcher toy with batters the way he did. My first pitching idol was Clemens (see how THAT turned out), who just blew people away, but Pedro in his prime was a little different than Clemens or Randy Johnson. With Clemens, he’d brush you back, he’d throw the gas, he’d drop the splitter off the table. You knew it, you just couldn’t do anything about it. With Johnson, he’d throw high 90s and then mix in his completely, absurdly unfair slider (I never saw anyone throw a harder slider than Randy Johnson, and to this day I do not know how anyone ever got their bat on that thing). You’d see hitters go back to the dugout after flailing away with an expression of profound relief on their faces (more pronounced in Johnson’s earlier years, when you didn’t know if he’d lose control of one of his pitches and kill you). They knew they’d been beat.
With Pedro, though, it’s not that he couldn’t just blow people away like the others – he could, and did, and plenty of hitters went back to the dugout shaking their heads after Pedro reached back and blew a 98-mph fastball by them – but he’d play with them in a way that the others didn’t. He’d use that ridiculous, absurd changeup, he’d mix in his bizarre array of breaking stuff (and no two of those pitches ever seemed to break quite the same), he’d confuse the batters so much that – as Joe pointed out in his previous column – they’d look like they needed to be committed to an asylum. People just didn’t know how to approach hitting Pedro when he was on – it wasn’t that you knew what was coming and you couldn’t hit it, it was that you didn’t know what was coming and you couldn’t hit it even if you did. Even if you guessed right, you didn’t have a chance – and you never guessed right.
So I grew up on sheer power and then got to watch pitching’s Mozart in his prime. And I was too young to really appreciate what Greg Maddux did. I knew he was good thanks to box scores and baseball cards, but I didn’t really appreciate how good, and as a Red Sox fan I didn’t watch him enough to appreciate how he did it. So it took really growing up as a baseball fan to gain a new appreciation of Greg Maddux.
My favorite part of this piece – which is maybe the greatest pitch-by-pitch summary of a game I’ve ever read, as is to be expected from Joe – is the Cecil Fielder at-bat in the eighth, where Maddux takes advantage of the bad call to pull off yet another “no WAY that was strike three” strikeout looking. Pitching really has a huge psychological component to it, which is one of my favorite things about baseball video games – I have a chance to emulate it. I always try to outthink the computer or whichever friend I’m trying to play against. And nobody – absolutely nobody – has ever been better at it than Greg Maddux. He played the batter and he played the umpire better than anyone else has or probably ever will. With Pedro, you didn’t know what to think – with Maddux, you thought what he wanted you to think, and then he had you.
I spend a lot of time complaining about umpiring, as I suspect most of us do. And I’m sure it would have driven me absolutely insane to watch Maddux get into their heads the way he got into everyone else’s heads, had I grown up rooting for a rival. But at the end of the day, there’s nothing you can really do but look back and shake your head and say “well played, sir, well played indeed.”
My girlfriend is a Padres fan, so I took her to see a couple of Padres/Dodgers games in LA this past season. We were at the game on June 10, which the Dodgers won 7-2 after the Padres’ bullpen melted down. Maddux had pitched the first six innings, giving up only one run on six hits. It wasn’t vintage Maddux, of course – he walked three – but it didn’t matter. I got to see the master once, live, before the end.
So here’s to Greg Maddux, the smartest pitcher who ever lived.
Thanks, Joe, as always — special thanks for being such a fan of my favorite player, and in particular of this game. Any chance you could offer up copies of the DVD for purchase?
And thanks for brining up his fielding; he was, without a doubt, the best fielding pitcher I ever saw (and I saw my first in-person game in 1957). Even before the Fielding Bible, etc. confirmed what we already knew about him, you could see the difference just in the counting numbers. In 1996, for example, he had 71 assists; IIRC, no other pitchers had more than 50 chances. He is also the career leader in PO for pitchers, by a mile — a record formerly held by Cy Young, who pitched 2300 more innings.
Which brings up one of my pet peeves re “modern” baseball stats: according to the most influential thinker in all of baseball, Bill James, there is ZERO value to pitchers’ fielding as far as Win Shares are computed. Aside from the fact that no other component is rated at zero, and aside from the fact that anyone who saw even one game of the 2006 World Series knows better than that, how in the world can anyone accept a stat that tells you there is no difference between having Greg Maddux fielding the pitcher’s position and, say, Jamie Navarro (who once made 3 errors in one inning) doing the fielding (actually, in comparison to Maddux, the other pitcher could be anybody, really).
Really, does that make any sense at all? It makes about as much sense as saying that pitchers’ hitting is worth zero, whether we are talking Bob Buhl or Livan Hernandez — that is, no sense at all.
A little more research led me to the following additional info about Mad Dog’s fielding prowess. He holds the following MLB records for pitcher’s fielding:
Most PO, career — 530
Most PO, game (9-innings) — 7
Most years led league in PO — 8
Most DP, career — 94
Most years led league in DP — 6
Most chances, career — 1,793
Most years led league in chances — 10
Most years led league in assists — 9
And notice that he is not mentioned AT ALL on the “most errors by pitcher” page.
http://www.baseball-almanac.com/rb_menu.shtml (scroll down to “Fielding Records by Players”)
And the only year beween 1990 and 2008 when he didn’t win the GG (2003, Mike Hampton), he wuz robbed.
My wife and I went to that 7/2/97 game. It was the only time I saw Maddox in person, and even from our seats down the right field line, we could see how the left hand batters gave up on the inside pitch that drifted back over the corner (Sour grapes alert: or was close enough for Mr. Hirschbeck)
Anyway, it was a great performance. On the other hand, it was a dreary experience for us Yankee fans.
We went to two other games that year: Pedro toyed with the “Bombers” for the Expos and Mussina made them look silly with the O’s. I think the Yanks scratched out one run off Pedro, and that was it.
Watching a well pitched game is great, even uplifting, but 1997 was too much of a good thing.
David in NYC,
I think the idea is that whatever value a pitcher gets from his fielding is already reflected in the runs prevented. If you added how good the fielding was to how good the run prevention was you would be double counting. This is not at all to say Maddux’s fielding has no value, just that it is already shown.
The Sporting News published this brief list in their 1996 baseball preview, a few months after he won his 4th consecutive Cy Young Award:
How Good is Greg Maddux
Facts and figures about Mr. Maddux
* His ERA over the past four seasons is 1.98
* With an ERA of 1.57 in 1994 and 1.63 in 1995, Maddux is the first pitcher to have back-to-back ERAs below 1.75 since Walter Johnson in 1918-1919.
* No pitcher had ever had an ERA a full run better than anyone else in the league – before Maddux. Last season, Maddux came within .19 of Hideo Nomo of doing it two years in a row
* He was 13-0 with a 1.12 ERA on the road last season
* He was 17-1 after May 17 last season
* He allowed one run in the middle innings (fourth, fifth, sixth) all season
* He yielded one or no runs in 18 of 28 starts last season
Every single one of those items is unbelievably good. the fact that they’re all about the same man is astounding.
(I included more like this at http://wezen-ball.blogspot.com/2008/12/through-years-greg-maddux.html )
Maddux was one of those rare players people root for even though they are not on a team you care about. Barry Sanders is the other that comes to mind. I always wanted to watch Maddux pitch and always wanted him to do well even though I was never a fan of any team he pitched for.
this SO makes me want to watch this game with this post in one hand and a beer in the other and marvel in its brilliance.
Is a co-coconspirator any more or less guilty than a co-conspirator?
On June 20th of this season, Maddux, pitching against my beloved Detroit Tigers in interleague play, gave up a leadoff home run to Curtis Granderson.
His line after the Granderson HR:
7 IP
4 H
0 R
1 BB (intentional, to Pudge Rodriguez batting #8th with a man on second base)
4 K
85 pitches (incl. 3 to Granderson)
He never broke 86 on the radar gun. He looked like he was done. Every one of his pitches looked like it could be clobbered with an aggressive swing. Yet the Tigers were mystified, and every pitch also had some kind of late life or bite to it. It was not as dominant as the ‘97 game Joe mentions, but it was just as awe-inspiring.
I think Maddux is a great pitcher. But I got to see Koufax. My parents were at the perfect game, and I’ve still got the ticket stubs and scorebook. And I think mentally, the two were very similar. Koufax had his mechanics optimized for power, both in the speed of the fastball and the spin of the curveball. Maddux’s mechanics were optimized for control. I believe that if Maddux had Koufax’s build, he’d have optimized for power and become unhittable, and Koufax, well, he’d have given up and become an architect. But if he stuck with baseball, he has the smarts to know how to duplicate everything needed to have Maddux’s control.
As for Maddux benefiting from bad calls, *every* pitcher benefits from bad calls. If he had a robot calling balls and strikes, he’d have to stay on the black instead of outside the black. There’s be fewer called strikeouts, more balls hit weakly, some of which would have gone through the infield for hits, so obviously his WHIP and ERA would have gone up. But the difference is inconsequential. He *still* would have deserved and won his Cy Young awards, he’d still be going into the HOF, and he’d still be one of the best pitchers and analysts of pitching of all time. The only thing that could have changed is that he might have retired a year or two earlier, since his pitch count would have been higher. Remember, not every ump gave Maddux the calls he wanted, and he still managed a mighty fine record. However, there’s an interesting project for somebody with the right access to records: charting Maddux’s career performance by home plate umpire. I bet his 20 or 30 worst umpires are still mighty fine as a group.
Mr. Posnanski, I enoy reading all your stuff. I love it! Thanks for sharing your talent. Maddux has long been my favorite player with Jeter a close second. So I enjoyed this very much. Thanks for the interesting and fun reading you always provide. You have a great talent and I appreciate it.
Happy Holidays!
Doug
He allowed one run in the middle innings (fourth, fifth, sixth) all season
That is the most ridiculous statistic I’ve ever seen. (And I mean that in a good way). That’s INSANE! That basically means that every time that year that Maddux went through the lineup a second time, they had NO CHANCE to score against him. None.
A lot of pitchers get markedly worse their second time through the lineup. Maddux probably thought to himself “Okay, shortstop xxxx, Patented, Patended, Curveball, Circle Change outside. Let’s mix things up. I wonder if his wife bought that painting she always wanted?”
And just shut everyone down.
For the (two) people that basically are saying that Maddux was so great because the umpire made him great, please. Do you really think that if he WASN’T getting those calls, he’d keep pitching there? There have been plenty of games where a decent announcer mentions that Maddux or Glavine have gone away from the fastball low outside, because they’re “not getting it today”. By which they mean the ump isn’t calling it for them.
Maddux would always throw one in the first two pitches, to see where the ump was. If he got it, he’d throw one a half inch further outside, right up until the calls changed from strike to ball. Then he’d plant a few more right on that edge to see if he could sneak an extra 1/4 inch on that strikezone. And once he had it established, he’d just pound it.
I won’t disagree that umpires should call that better, but for Maddux (and Glavine) to be able to consistently hit that spot PERFECTLY is amazing.
If an ump wouldn’t give him that call, he’d go back inwards until he found where the edge was. And if there was no edge, he’d just go to work on the bottom half of the plate.
As for Pedro vs Maddux, in my mind Maddux is by far the better pitcher, simply because he didn’t have Pedro’s stuff. If you combined Pedro’s stuff with Maddux control and pitching acumen, you’d have a guy who’d rate 140s in all statistics in a baseball game. (and who would pitch 18 perfect games a year).
Finally, someone said Joe should make copies of that DVD and sell them. I’m not sure if you were kidding, but please be aware that that would land a person in jail. These games are actually copyrighted. (sorry to be a buzzkill…)
“Sipe didn’t always win in the two minute, he didn’t even MOSTLY win in the two-minute, but he won enough and even when he failed it was always a valiant effort. Well, all except one.”
Growing up in Cleveland, Sipe was my first hero. That one broke my heart and it never healed.
I’m late to this one Joe, but unfortunately there’s no way Maddux could patent his patented fastball – he’s been using it for so long and hasn’t patented it already that he’s barred by statute (35 USC 102(b)) from applying for a patent on it.
There’s also the issue of whether he could get a patent on a method of throwing a fastball, but I’ll leave that one aside. Wonderful write-up for a wonderful pitcher.
your writing, joe, is such a pleasure, how do you do it? you are the Greg Maddux of your field.
just curious how Koufax’s brilliant years in terms of ERA+ would compare to Maddux’s noted at the beginning of the article. thank you.
[...] Joe Posnanski placed an interesting blog post on Mad Dog 20-20, Retirement EditionHere’s a brief overview Here’s an underrated great part of my job: The mail. Every week, more or less, I will get two or three great things in the mail. Often it will be a fun book — like I got this terrific book the other day called, Odd Man Out, by (apparently) a brilliant reader of this site named Matt McCarthy. Matt is now an intern at Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center, but the book is about the fifteen games he started in the minor leagues in 2002, and how they altered his life. That’s a hard kind of book to [...]
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