ESPN

by Steve Wulf

  In her own words, here’s a look inside Smith’s ball bag of tricks:

  Rise Ball

  Spin. The ball should spin backward and rise up through the strike zone. I cock my wrist backward and underneath the ball. My pinky finger is the closest finger toward the batter when I spin the ball backward as I release it. The spin has the same effect as an airplane: It will cause a decrease in pressure underneath the seams, which will cause the pitch to rise.

  Speed. I throw this pitch fast. As the velocity increases, so does the ball movement.

  Grip. There are a few different ways to grip the ball, but I place my middle finger on the top seam, my ring finger on the bottom seam, and tuck in my index and pinky fingers. My thumb is opposite my middle finger.

  Bobby Richardson is the only second baseman and the only player from the losing team to win the World Series MVP (1960).

  Curveball

  Spin. The ball should spin like a top in a circular rotation and move from side to side. For a right-handed pitcher, the ball will move away from a right-handed batter. For a left-handed pitcher, like me, the ball will move in to a right-handed hitter. I snap my wrist around the ball as I release it, rotate my hand sideways, and pull the ball across my body in one swift motion.

  Speed. The velocity should be a bit slower than that of a fastball, to give it time to curve.

  Dutch Levsen pitched complete-game victories (6-1, 5-1) in both ends of a 1926 doubleheader between his Cleveland Indians and the Boston Red Sox.

  Grip. I grip the curve exactly like the rise ball but rotate the ball just a little bit so that I am sliding my middle finger up on the smile formed by the top of the seams. Again, my ring finger is on the bottom.

  Drop Ball

  Spin. The ball should spin over the top, or spin forward with a downward rotation, and move from high to low. It’s almost like an overhand curve in baseball. I snap downward as I release the ball and rotate my hand over the ball with my thumb leading the ball initially but ending up on the bottom once I have finished my rotation.

  Speed. The velocity should be a bit slower than that of a fastball—it needs time to drop.

  Grip. I place all three fingers over the top seams, thumb opposite the middle finger, and tuck in my pinky.

  Changeup

  Spin. The best changeups have a tight spin either like a curve or backward for a flip changeup. The faster the ball spins, the harder it is for the batter to read that the pitch is actually slower than a fastball.

  Speed. At least 25 percent slower than a fastball. But because the object is to fool the batter, look as explosive off the mound as you would with a fastball.

  Grip. There are a lot of different grips. I like to start out with my rise-ball grip. But I hold the ball deeper in the palm of my hand, tuck in a finger so it looks like a regular rise ball, then put all my fingers on the ball.

  Knuckleball

  Spin. Not many pitchers throw the knuckler. It is difficult to master and control and tough for a catcher to handle. The trick is to throw it with no spin: The ball floats and moves in random, unpredictable directions.

  Speed. At least 25 percent slower than a fastball—the slower, the better. But just like the changeup, you want the batter to think you’re throwing a fastball.

  Grip. My fingers are bent against the ball so the knuckles of my fingers are against the ball. The ball is deep in the palm of my hand—that helps me lock my wrist so there is no wrist snap and consequently no spin. As I release the ball, I take my thumb off and l et the ball float out of my hand.

  Calvin Coolidge is the only president to attend more than one game in a single World Series: He went to games 1, 6, and 7 in Washington in 1924.

  MIGHTIEST GAME (HOCKEY)

  WHY THE MIRACLE ON ICE WASN’T REALLY

  Eleven seconds, you’re got 10 seconds, the countdown is going on right now! Morrow, up to Silk…five seconds left in the game. Do you believe in miracles? Yes!”

  Even if you weren’t around to hear Al Michaels’s call, you probably know that was his description of the waning moments of the United States Olympic hockey team’s 4-3 victory over the Soviet Union on February 22, 1980. The so-called Miracle on Ice is unquestionably the most famous hockey game ever played, but to call it a “miracle” does a disservice to the 20 American collegians who poured seven months of their lives into those Oympics and to the man who forged their gold medal.

  Heck, the real miracle was that Herb Brooks wasn’t replaced as the coach before Lake Placid. He regularly defied his bosses at USA Hockey, he tormented his players to the edge of revolt, and when the U.S. lost 10-3 to the U.S.S.R. in a February 9 exhibition, he came under attack from the media.

  In Miracle, the 2004 movie about the Miracle on Ice, Buzz Schneider is played by his son, Billy.

  But right from the beginning, Brooks had a plan. A successful coach at the University of Minnesota, he picked players for their intelligence and their willingness to challenge assumptions because he was going to teach them a new style of play. He talked to track and swimming coaches before designing a rigorous conditioning program that made the Americans the best-conditioned athletes on the ice—they outscored their Olympic opponents 16-3 in the third period. And, somewhat against his nature, he made himself the bad guy, preferring to unite his players in fear of him rather than in fear of the Russians.

  When not subjecting his players to “Herbies”—those all-out sprints at the end of each practice—he hit them with such Brooks-isms as “You’re playing worse every day, and right now you’re playing like the middle of next month,” and “Gentlemen, you don’t have enough talent to win on talent alone.” Brooks died in 2003, but if you’ve seen Kurt Russell play him in the 2004 movie Miracle, you have a pretty good idea of what he was like: E. M. Swift of Sports Illustrated, who knew Brooks well and chronicled the team so beautifully back in 1980, called the performance “hauntingly true-to-life.”

  The defining goal of the Olympics was actually the goal that tied the Russians 2–2 in the first period. With only seconds left in the period, defenseman Dave Christian took a 100-foot slap shot that goaltender Vladislav Tretiak let rebound off his pads. He and his teammates thought the period was over, but center Mark Johnson (who had been battling with Brooks) flew to the net, weaving through two Soviet defenders. He feinted a shot, pulling Tretiak to his knees, then veered left and slid the puck behind Tretiak. It was a combination of Soviet overconfidence and American hustle, and it resulted in the U.S.S.R. coach replacing Tretiak, the best goalie in the world, with his backup, Vladimir Myshkin.

  Suddenly the Russians looked mortal, and even though the U.S. fell behind 3–2 in the second period, Jim Craig made save after save until Johnson tied it up in the third period. Then, with 10 minutes left in the game, captain and left wing Mike Eruzione happened upon a loose puck and fired it through a screen past Myshkin for a 4-3 lead. Disoriented, the Russians started playing like the teams who usually panicked against them.

  Still, the Americans needed to beat Finland two days later to claim the gold, which they did, 4–2, for their first Olympic gold since Squaw Valley in 1960. Herb Brooks was the last forward cut from that team, which made his victory in Lake Placid that much sweeter.

  Knowing what that last cut felt like made it especially hard for Brooks to give the news to the last forward he cut, Ralph Cox, a few days before the Olympics. As Brooks told Swift later that year, “He was such a gentleman that I cried on it. I had a little flashback of myself at the time. And you know what he told me? True story. He said, ’That’s all right, coach, I understand. You guys are going to win the gold medal.’ Ralph Cox said that. And when we won it, that’s who I thought of. Ralph Cox.”

  Miracle on Ice: Team USA celebrates after defeating the USSR 4–3 in the Olympic semifinal on February 22, 1980.

  REAL SORRY

  MISSING THE TRIPLE CROWN BY A NOSE

  In the chart below, you will see the 11 horses that came this close to winning thoroughbred ra
cing’s Triple Crown since Affirmed won the last one, in 1978: They took the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness but failed in the Belmont. And one of them, Real Quiet, lost the Belmont by a nose.

  Horse Year Belmont Result

  Spectacular Bid 1979 3rd

  Pleasant Colony 1981 3rd

  Alysheba 1987 4th

  Sunday Silence 1989 2nd (8 lengths)

  Silver Charm 1997 2nd (¾ length)

  Real Quiet 1998 2nd (nose)

  Charismatic 1999 3rd

  War Emblem 2002 8th

  Funny Cide 2003 3rd

  Smarty Jones 2004 2nd

  Big Brown 2008 9th

  Too bad about Real Quiet because he was a movie in the making. A Colombian horseman, Eduardo Gaviria, had carefully bred his stallion, Really Blue, to the mare Quiet American, but the colt’s knees were so crooked that Gaviria sold Real Quiet at a yearling auction to Michael Pegram for a mere $17,000. Trained by Bob Baffert, Real Quiet didn’t get his first win until his seventh race as a two-year-old. Even though he won the Hollywood Futurity, Real Quiet wasn’t given much of a chance to win the Derby and was in fact considered second fiddle to Baffert’s other entry, Indian Charlie. For edging out Victory Gallop by a half-length in the Derby, Real Quiet paid a rather loud $18.80.

  Real Quiet again defeated Victory Gallop in the Preakness, by a more comfortable two and a half lengths. According to a pre-Belmont story in The New York Times, “When his cargo plane landed at Kennedy Airport…, the wing door swung open and the chief members of the cast—the owner, Mike Pegram; the trainer, Bob Baffert, and the jockey, Kent Desormeaux—stood there with index fingers over their mouths, signifying ’real quiet.’ ” Desormeaux said he was “98 percent sure of winning.”

  With two furlongs to go in the 1½-mile Belmont, Real Quiet opened up a four-length lead. But Victory Gallop closed fast on the outside, and though Desormeaux angled his horse out, the two horses arrived at the wire at the same moment. After five minutes, the results were announced: Victory Gallop by a nose. As it turned out, had Real Quiet crossed the wire first, he would not have won. Said Belmont steward John Joyce, “There was some significant lugging out there. We probably would have D.Q.’d [disqualified] Real Quiet if he had won.”

  Victory Gallop edges out favorite Real Quiet in a photo finish at the Belmont Stakes on June 6, 1998, denying Real Quiet the Triple Crown by the narrowest of margins.

  ACE OF CLUBS

  THE MASTER OF THE HOLE IN ONE

  It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thrill that Norman Manley has experienced 59 times. It’s something Rhiannon Linacre did when she was 9 years, 75 days old and Elsie McLean did when she was 102. It’s the great equalizer, a shot that links hackers to the greats of the game.

  We’re talking, of course, about the hole in one, and one person who can talk about it is West Texan Mancil Davis, the so-called King of Aces and the official PGA record holder, with 51 of them. Says Davis, “You’ll never be as good as Tiger Woods, but anyone can hit a hole in one just like Tiger.”

  Apollo 14 astronaut Alan Shepard is the only man to hit a golf ball on the moon. Because the suit was so bulky, he could use only one arm, and it took him three swings to connect solidly with his makeshift six-iron, but the ball went an estimated 240 yards.

  Davis says that his aces have come in all forms: “the good, the bad, and the ugly.” One of his favorites came when his ball hit a tree and a sprinkler head before finding its way into the cup. Another time, he was giving a couple a playing lesson when he demonstrated the ball right into the hole. Here are three tips from the King:

  Visualize the shot. For years, I always said that I felt differently on a par 3. I’m a big believer in visualization. And a par 3 is just a visual hole.

  Aim at the hole. I ask golfers what they are aiming for on a par 3, and very few of them say the hole. That will help you visualize the ball rolling into the hole.

  Use enough club. It’s typical for players to underclub, but that’s because they don’t know how long they hit their clubs. Most golfers aren’t as strong as they are in their minds. So be honest with yourself.

  In case you’re wondering, Tiger has 19 holes in one, which gives him one more than Jack Nicklaus but 26 fewer than one-time PGA golfer Art Wall.

  Tiger Woods celebrates his hole in one during the Par 3 Contest at Augusta National Golf Club in Augusta, Georgia, April 7, 2004.

  MIGHTIEST GAME (BASKETBALL)

  THE NIGHT WILT CHAMBERLAIN SCORED 100

  In the early morning hours of March 2, 1962, Wilt Chamberlain closed up his nightclub in Harlem, Small’s Paradise, and caught a train to Philadelphia, where he was to meet his Warrior teammates for a bus ride to Hershey, Pennsylvania, to play a game against the New York Knicks. Back in those days, the Warriors would occasionally play a game at the Hershey Arena, a two-hour ride from Philadelphia. “We arrived at the arena at 3:30,” Wilt wrote in his book A View from Above. “I spent the rest of the time before the game shooting a rifle at a penny arcade. I completely destroyed all existing shooting records there—an omen of things to come.”

  He was hot, all right. Playing in front of just 4,124 fans, Wilt had 23 points in the first quarter, 18 in the second. Jim Heffernan, who covered the game for the Philadelphia Bulletin, recalled, “That was no big deal to us because he had 78 earlier in the season. What we did notice was that he was making his free throws.” Chamberlain, a notoriously horrible foul shooter, had made 13 of 14 in the first half.

  It wasn’t like the Knicks were lying down for Chamberlain. The two teams actively disliked each other. But he scored another 28 points in the third quarter. To try to keep him in check, the Knicks started holding the ball, milking the 24 seconds they were allowed on each possession. The Warriors, for their part, kept feeding the ball to Wilt. Here’s the call of Bill Campbell, the WCAU broadcaster:

  He has 98 with 1:01 left, he can make it easily…. Rodgers in to Chamberlain, misses, Luckenbill rebound, back to Ruklick, in to Chamberlain … he made it! A dipper dunk! He made it! They’ve stopped the game. The fans are all over the floor. One hundred points for Wilt Chamberlain!

  In the locker room afterward, Wilt was asked to pose holding a sheet of paper with 100 written on it. But that was the extent of the celebration. As teammate Al Attles remembered, “Sweat dripping off him, a glass of milk in one hand,… he’s shaking his head. ‘What’s the matter, big fella?’ I asked him. And he said, ‘I never thought I’d take 63 shots.’ To which I said, ‘Yeah, but you made 36 of them!’”

  After the game, Chamberlain hitched a ride back to New York with some of the Knicks. When they let him off, Wilt told them, “You guys are sure nice to this SOB. Letting me score a hundred points, then giving me a ride all the way back to my apartment.”

  AIR BALLS

  THE FAMILY SECRETS OF THE WIFFLE BALL

  Back in 1953, David J. Mullany’s father had a problem. While throwing curveballs with a plastic golf ball in his Connecticut backyard, his arm had become sore. So his father, David N. Mullany, a failed auto-polish salesman, came to the rescue, inventing and then producing the light plastic orb now known as the Wiffle ball. Today, the sport it bred is played all over the map, across the demographic spectrum.

  Now the president of Wiffle Ball, Inc., in Shelton, Connecticut, David J. Mullany says that there are infinite ways of throwing the ball, based on different arm angles and the direction in which the holes are facing on release. But Mullany offers up his three favorite pitches, based on experience:

  Curveball. The right-handed Mullany prefers to hold the ball with the perforations facing left, throwing it either overhead or from a three-quarter release, with his arm at a 45-degree angle. That way, the ball curves away from a right-hander. If he wants the ball to curve in to the batter, he simply flips the ball so the holes face to the right.

  Riser. Hold the ball so the indentations face the ground. Throw this pitch with your arm between three quarters and sidearm, and watch as the ball rises up toward the ba
tter before the bottom drops out and the ball loses momentum.

  Knuckleball. Just like Tim Wakefield’s floater, this pitch ducks and dives, with varying results. The holes should face your palm, with your index, middle, and ring fingers just inside the perforations. Throw it straight overhand, and push outward with your fingers. If you release it correctly, the ball won’t spin, and it’ll bewilder the heck out of your opponent.

  In other words, those are the pitches that will put the whiff in Wiffle ball.

  COLOR FAST

  WHY THE TOUR DE FRANCE LEADER WEARS YELLOW

  The yellow jersey worn by the leader of the Tour de France is one of the most recognizable symbols in all of sports. But there is an ongoing debate about when le maillot jaune was first worn, and by whom.

  The first Tour winners wore a green armband. Belgian rider Philippe Thys took credit for being the first to wear the yellow when he won the race in 1913, saying he wished to wear a bright color that both set him off from the crowd and served as an advertisement for his Peugeot racing team. All of which may be true, but there are no accounts or witnesses to corroborate the claim.

  The more widely accepted story credits Frenchman Eugène Christophe, who wore a yellow jersey during the Grenoble-to-Geneva stage to reflect the color of L’Auto, the newspaper that organized the event. At the time, tour organizer Henri Desgrange wrote: “This morning I gave the valiant Christophe a superb yellow jersey…. Our director decided that the man leading the race should wear a jersey in the colors of L’Auto. The battle to wear this jersey is going to be passionate.”

  Lance Armstrong leads the pack during Stage 14 (Draguignan to Briançon) of the Tour de France, July 15, 2000.