Book review: Wherever I Wind Up: My Quest for Truth, Authenticity and the Perfect Knuckleball - R.A. Dickey

The title of New York Mets pitcher R.A. Dickey’s autobiography, Wherever I Wind Up:  My Quest for Truth, Authenticity and the Perfect Knuckleball (Blue Rider, 2012), holds a meaning of unpredictability that has followed him from his youth all the way to the mound at Citi Field. The metaphoric title refers to much more than the curious flight of his knuckleball, with Dickey bearing much of his soul in this unprecedented work.

R.A. Dickey - Wherever I Wind Up / Blue Rider

An All-American and Olympian from the University of Tennessee, Dickey was on a direct path to major league stardom when the Texas Rangers in the 1996 draft drafted him in the first round. Offered a bonus of $810,000, Dickey began to envision a life of financial security and a fast track to the major leagues; however, the same arm which enamored the Rangers’ top scouts, almost brought Dickey’s career to a screeching halt before even a pitch was thrown.

Noticing a slight irregularity in the angle of Dickey’s elbow from a baseball magazine cover, the Rangers wanted an MRI of his golden arm. A few hours later, the Rangers rescinded their offer. The culprit was Dickey’s UCL or lack thereof. The ligament, which keeps the elbow secure while pitching, was missing after multiple MRIs. It was a medical wonder that his arm stayed in one piece after all of those innings of 90+ MPH fastballs.

Labeled as damaged goods and ready to walk away from baseball, the Rangers made Dickey a take-it-or-leave-it offer of $75,000. Starting from baseball’s murkiest depths, Dickey embarked on a path toward the major leagues that was anything but direct and haunted by the demons of an unspeakable past.

Reaching into the darkest places where no child should ever visit, Dickey peels away layers of a child tortured by vagrancy, alcoholism and sexual abuse. In a bold move, especially for an active player, Dickey publicly reveals his victimization by a family babysitter at the age of nine. Opening the door to a place that he locked away before revealing it to his psychologist in his 30s, Dickey suppressed the anger and horror of a child whose innocence was taken too soon.

On top of the abuse he suffered, Dickey discovered in his teenage years that living with an alcoholic parent only compounded the dismay he faced, leaving him to seek refuge as a vagrant, spending many nights sleeping in vacated homes. Despite these tremendous obstacles that Dickey faced, he earned a scholarship to Tennessee, where he majored in English, a skill he was passionate about that is obvious from this work.

While it seems miraculous that Dickey garnered the necessary strength to continue to excel on the mound as an amateur, getting signed was only the beginning of a tumultuous relationship with baseball.

Trolling the minor leagues for five years, Dickey finally received the call from the Rangers in 2001. Four short appearances later, he was back in AAA with the Oklahoma City 89ers. He wouldn’t return to the majors until 2003. After three unremarkable campaigns with the Rangers from 2003-05 and a shoulder injury, a meeting with Rangers manager Buck Showalter and pitching coach Orel Hershiser would once again change the course of Dickey’s career. They asked him to give up being a conventional pitcher and convert to throwing the knuckleball full-time. Realizing he was at a crossroads, Dickey accepted the challenge.

As with the uncertain nature of the knuckleball, Dickey experienced a hellacious ride back to the major leagues including giving up a record-tying six home runs in his first start as a knuckleballer. Looking for help that his major league coaches could not provide, Dickey sought advice from Charlie Hough, Phil Niekro, and Tim Wakefield.

Despite following the Rangers’ request to covert, they released him after the 2006 season. Dickey bounced around organizations more than a spinning knuckleball. Signed by the Milwaukee Brewers, Dickey lasted one year with their AAA club, before shuttling between the Seattle Mariners and the Minnesota Twins. Released by the Twins in 2009 after an unspectacular 1-1 record in 35 appearances, he was running out of time and options. Lost in the mix of his rapid change of uniforms, Dickey almost died trying to swim across the Mississippi River, and his wife moved to another house after discovering his infidelity. Desperate for a paycheck that would offer more than that of a sojourning baseball nomad, Dickey contemplated playing in Korea before the New York Mets offered him a shot to go to spring training in 2010.

Rejuvenated by a move to the National League and a struggling Mets club, Dickey liked his chances to play in New York City. To his great surprise, he was the first person cut from the major league club in spring training. Still, driven by his tremendous spirit, Dickey soldiered to Triple-A, determined to stand tall in Queens. After pitching a nearly perfect game early in his Mets minor league campaign, the Mets summoned Dickey to Flushing, where he has remained a fixture in their rotation, earning his first multi-year contract at the beginning of the 2011 season.

Dickey’s story reaches far outside the lines of the baseball diamond, touching widespread emotions unseen in any baseball autobiography. The courage he has displayed to tell his story in full leaves behind a human element that is sorely missing in this era of distant multi-millionaires.

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Book review: Heart & Hustle - An Unlikely Journey from Little Leaguer to Big Leaguer by Frank Catalanotto

Signed as a skinny 18-year-old from Smithtown, N.Y., Frank Catalanotto was almost cut from the Detroit Tigers during their fall instructional league after his rookie season in the minors. That was until minor league hitting instructor and former All-Star Larry Parrish intervened on the kid’s behalf.

“Yes, he’s weak and needs to get stronger, but his hand-eye coordination is great.  … He’s got a God-given gift. He never misses if he swings at it,” said Parrish to farm director Joe McDonald.

Parrish’s words were enough to save Catalanotto from baseball purgatory and give him the push he needed on the way to the major leagues. He is a central figure in Catalanotto’s rise to a 14-year major league career, detailed in his new autobiography, Heart and Hustle: An Unlikely Journey from Little Leaguer to Big Leaguer (Bantry Bay, 2012).

Frank Catalanotto - Heart and Hustle / Bantry Bay Books

Heart and Hustle is both inspirational and instructional, written not only for those who have followed Catalanotto’s career, but also for youngsters dreaming of following in his footsteps.

The first half of the book is dedicated to detailing Catalanotto’s trials and tribulations on his way to the big leagues. He opens the door to the exhausting grind of the minor leagues: the long bus rides, substandard food, lack of sleep and other challenges to your general well being while trying to play baseball at an optimal level.

For all of the challenges and setbacks that he faced in the minor leagues, including his near release, they were made that much sweeter when the Detroit Tigers made Catalanotto a late-season call-up in 1997. He would hold on that ride for thirteen more seasons, playing with the Rangers, Blue Jays, Brewers, and Mets before retiring after his release during the 2010 season.

Catalanotto breathes life into his expedition with a behind the scenes look at the game, detailing his game day routines, pulling back the curtain on a day that starts with him arriving six hours before the first pitch to begin treatment and all of the necessary preparations for a 7:05 PM start. Catalanotto’s immense pre-game preparation is just the tip of the iceberg regarding his attention to detail.

So meticulous is the Long Islander, that he kept a handwritten notebook with a scouting report on every major league pitcher he faced, using the advice of Parrish from his minor league days to keep records of the pitchers he would see on his way up through the minors that would follow him to the major leagues. Peeling away another layer, Catalanotto takes you deeper into the lengths he would go through to gain an edge on the competition, providing full page photos of the scouting reports he wrote.

He is also quick to reveal the most humbling time in a player’s career; the time when you find out it’s over. It is the rare player that can go out on their own terms, such as Chipper Jones, who is making his final lap around the league this year. For the majority like Catalanotto, a tap on the shoulder after the game and a quick talk with management seal the deal. He openly takes us inside the manager’s office and the locker room after a mid-season game with the Mets in 2010 that came with the worst news for a veteran; you’ve been released. The reader can only help but feel Catalanotto’s emotions as he wrestles with life after baseball.

Catalanotto bounces back quickly after accepting his retirement and settles the second half of the book serves with an informal baseball “how-to.”  He provides plenty of pointers from a major league perspective regarding conditioning, hitting, and psychological preparation, finishing each chapter with a neat summary of “Cat’s Tips,” which are easily digestible for young ballplayers.

While the sub-title of Catalanotto’s book suggests that his journey to the major leagues was unlikely, it is evident after reading that his character and determination put him on a direct path with destiny to a successful major league career when many other 18-year-olds would have thrown in the towel.

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Fritz Peterson: Who needs a coach?

This week’s guest article is from former All-Star and 20-game winner Fritz Peterson. After the self-coached Bubba Watson won the Masters tournament earlier this month, Peterson reflected on his own experiences with coaching during his major league career.

“I don't need a coach.”-- Bubba Watson 4/8/12

“I didn't either.”-- Fritz Peterson 4/11/12

In golf, you are out there all by yourself. As a pitcher you are the only one out there on the mound. The type of pitch you throw is ultimately up to you even though your catcher can suggest a pitch he thinks you should throw. The ball is in your hand until you let it go at the end of your delivery. Bubba Watson chose his clubs at the Masters last Sunday and even though his caddy may have made suggestions, it was ultimately Watson's decision. On April 8th, 2012 it was Watson that walked off the course after the second hole of the playoff against Louis Oosthuizen with the green jacket.

Fritz Peterson / Baseball Alamanac

Who needs a coach? After Watson's father showed him the basic fundamentals of the swing and the grip, Watson took it from there. After my father showed me the fundamentals of throwing a ball and having an idea of where each pitch should go, I was done, in essence, being coached. Everything I picked up over the years was from experimenting on my own, not from a coach other than my dad until I got into college. By the time I finished my major league career, I had six pitches I could use effectively. Since Thurman Munson only had five fingers he had to start backwards and use his little finger for my 6th pitch. Jim Bouton did teach me his palm ball which angered our pitching coach because Bouton had taught it to me and not him. Bouton was not “old school.”

The odd thing, especially in the major leagues, is that every team has a coach for everything, but in most cases they do more harm to the players than good. The majority of coaches think they have to justify their positions (jobs), so they dabble with their players, sometimes actually causing them to over think, which can negatively affect their performance.

I know! It happened to me in my first year with the Yankees in 1966. I was privileged to be one of the starting pitchers on the New York Yankees where I was surrounded by pitchers like Whitey Ford, Al Downing, Jim Bouton and Mel Stottlemyre. All of them were, or would become 20 game winners and all had been an All-Star at least once. Our pitching coach was Jim Turner, a wonderful hearty man from the “old school,” in his ways. New ideas were taboo. You just did things like they've been done from time immemorial. Turner was a sincere man and truly believed everyone should do everything the same way.

I got to the big leagues with only two pitches, a sinking fastball and a hard sharp breaking curve-ball. My strength was that I could get both of them over the plate where I wanted them to be 95% of the time. Mr. Turner, in an attempt to help me, suggested I throw my curve ball like Whitey Ford threw his. Since Turner was my coach, I tried it. It messed me up. It cost me my real curve-ball for a few weeks, until I got "my" curve-ball back. I wasn't Whitey Ford; I was Fritz Peterson.

The point is, at that level pitchers and hitters know what to do. Coaching (especially over coaching) can do more damage than it can help. Bubba Watson is Bubba Watson and he knows it. Now that he has a green jacket he will be able to be Bubba Watson for a long time if he chooses to be.

My friend, roommate, and author of Ball Four once told me that Johnny Sain was the perfect pitching coach. He said nothing. Instead, Sain befriended his pitchers like children of his own. He didn't mess with their mechanics. If I had been a pitching coach, I would have been just like Sain. By the way, Bouton was the only ex-player who attended Sain's funeral. He truly was Bouton's friend.

The rest of my career (11 years) in the big leagues, I did my own thing out there on the mound. I did it “my way,” like Frank Sinatra, and now Watson. Sure, I listened to my pitching coaches, but without them realizing I was doing it my way just the same. On top of that, I gave them credit in the press because I knew their intentions were good. What harm could that do? The coaches were going to be there anyway, looking good with their little notebooks and clipboards. Besides, we’re all there together trying to win games for our team. Watson is his own team. Leave him alone. He's having fun being Bubba Watson and that's the way it should be. Who needs a coach?

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Moose Skowron Shares How He Danced His Way to First Base With The Yankees

Moose Skowron at 2011 Old Timers Day / N. Diunte

When the legendary Bill "Moose" Skowron passed away in April 2012 at the age of 80, the baseball world lost more than just a five-time World Series champion and a six-time All-Star. It lost one of the game's great storytellers, a man who anchored the powerhouse New York Yankees infield of the 1950s and early 60s with a rare blend of brute strength and unexpected agility.

For Skowron, making it to the Bronx wasn't a straight line. It required climbing the rigorous ladder of the minor leagues, surviving winter ball under the watchful eye of a baseball legend, and taking some unforgettable advice from his iconic manager, Casey Stengel.

Learning First Base and Casey Stengel's "Dancing School"

When Johnny Mize retired after the 1953 season, first base was wide open for the next crop of Yankees prospects to fill. There was one problem, Skowron only had one full season under his belt at first base in the minor leagues.

"They told me, 'Moose, the only way you could make the majors is to learn to play first base,'" Skowron said during a 2009 phone interview from his Illinois home.

Legendary Yankees manager Casey Stengel had a creative idea to get Skowron familiar with the necessary footwork to play the position.

"Casey Stengel said, 'Moose, you’ve gotta go to dancing school to learn how to play first base to move your legs,'" he recalled.

"I originally came up as a shortstop, but I was lousy. I tried playing third base, and I almost got killed there. Then they put me in the outfield, and I couldn't catch a fly ball! So Casey said, 'Moose, the best place for you is first base.'"

There was an additional hurdle Skowron had to clear before he could claim first base: the Yankees also had future Gold Glove first baseman Vic Power as Skowron’s minor league teammate. A massive offseason trade involving 11 players sent Power to the Kansas City Athletics, opening a path for Skowron to compete for the major league job.

"Vic Power was a hell of a ballplayer, too," he said. "He was the best defensive player I played against in my time. The Yankees trading him to Philadelphia is really what opened up first base to me."

Playing Winter Ball in Puerto Rico

Skowron played during the 1950-51 Winter League season for Puerto Rico’s team in Ponce. He acknowledged one Hall of Famer’s guidance for his early development.

"I played winter ball in Puerto Rico for Ponce in 1950," he said. "I remember Jim Rivera and Vic Power played there. It helped me because Rogers Hornsby was my manager. I was named Rookie of the Year, but then I hurt my ankle and the Yankees sent me back home to Chicago. That was it for my winter ball career, but it was a break for me. It turned out good."

Purdue and Hank Stram

Prior to signing with the Yankees, he was a three-sport star at Purdue University, lettering in basketball, football and baseball, with the latter two coached by the legendary Hank Stram. Skowron noted how the Hall of Fame football coach was leaning towards baseball at the time.

"At Purdue, I played football and baseball for Hank Stram," he said. "He was actually more of a baseball coach than a football coach back then!"

The New Yankee Stadium vs. "Death Valley"

Given the chance to reminisce about the old Yankee Stadium, Skowron was quick to point out the vast difference in dimensions. He wondered how he would have fared in a smaller ballpark.

"What can I say about the new stadium?" he asked. "It’s the name of the game: money. It’s so different now."

"I wish they had made the current park as big as it was when I was playing. It was 461 feet to center, 457 to left-center, and 407 to right-center. It was a long way to hit a ball. If you didn’t hook the ball directly down the lines, you were screwed."

Hustle to the Big Leagues

Skowron built a 14-year major league career on a relatively short minor league quest. In three seasons, he made the major leagues from Purdue University and never looked back.

"Those two years in AAA really helped me get to the big leagues quicker," he said. "Once I became a first baseman, I went to spring training the following year and platooned with Joe Collins. I hit .340 in about 90 games."

"I went to the World Series from 1955 through 1958, got hurt in '59, and then we won again from 1960 to 1962. Then I won it in 1963 with the Dodgers against the Yankees."

"If I would have been a Cub, I would have been a loser—they haven't won anything! They never even offered me a contract, even though I grew up right in their backyard."

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Book review: Jim Abbott - Imperfect: An Improbable Life

Jim Abbott at signing for Imperfect

Jim Abbott stood in front of an eager group of preschoolers ready to talk about the tenets of his baseball career. Little did he know that the most challenging question was going to come from his four-year-old daughter Ella.

“She raised her hand and I had no idea what was coming,” Abbott said at a recent book signing in New York City. “She said, ‘Dad, do you like your little hand?’ That question took me back. I didn’t quite know what to say. We never called it my little hand at home. My whole life, I never thought about liking it.”

After a short pause to further consider her inquiry, Abbott reflected on what he learned from his deformed hand. “I looked at her and said, ‘You know what honey, I do. I like my little hand. I haven’t always liked it and it hasn’t always been easy, but you know what, my little hand has taught me important lessons that life’s not easy and it’s not always fair.’”

Abbott was at the Upper West Side location of the Barnes and Noble Bookstore in early April to promote his autobiography, Imperfect: An Improbable Life (Ballantine, 2012) which he co-authored with former Los Angeles Times writer Tim Brown

Click here to read more about Abbott's new book as well as watch video of his speech from a recent book signing.

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