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by Tyler Kepner

  “Cutters are purpose pitches now more than anything else, unless you have that really freaky guy that has a cutter like Mariano Rivera. That’s different. That’s a different pitch.”

  In 2017, Jon Lester threw the highest percentage of cutters among qualified major league starters: 27.6 percent, according to FanGraphs. At his peak, after Rivera’s tutorial, Halladay threw it more than 40 percent of the time. On that March afternoon in 2017, Halladay could tell that patterns were changing.

  “You’d hear hitters say that was the one pitch that really changed the game for a long time—but for some reason it’s rare now to see many more guys that are still throwing cutters,” Halladay said. “I see a couple here and there, but talking to a lot of guys it’s just something that’s not done a lot.”

  FanGraphs data shows that cutter usage had indeed dipped, but only a bit; it peaked at 6.2 percent usage by all pitchers in 2014, and was down to 5.5 percent in 2017. Those rates could be influenced by the tracking technology, though, and the fact that the cutter is a hybrid. Computers and scouts won’t identify it precisely every time, but hitters know it’s there.

  The decline has been so slight that Leiter, now a broadcaster, says he hasn’t even noticed it. Pitchers do throw more curveballs now, to complement the trend of high fastballs. But the best cutters still shatter hitters’ bats, soften their contact, and scramble their senses.

  “There’s an embarrassment factor,” Leiter says. “It’s not just an end-of-the-bat roller to shortstop or fly ball to right. It’s a jam-shot, my finger stings, my hands are sore, and I’m pissed off because I just broke my favorite bat. The effectiveness of this pitch goes beyond actually having a result from it. I used to do it a lot of times—bust a guy in and just miss. Let him be conscious of smelling that 88- to 91-mile-an-hour cut. It’s an ‘Oh shit!’ pitch.”

  It’s not a fastball. It’s not a slider. But thankfully, for hitters, the best one has already come and gone. There will never be another Mariano Rivera. Roy Halladay knew that, and so does Rivera’s own son, a minor league pitcher who cannot imitate his father’s famous pitch.

  Mariano Rivera Jr., drafted by the Nationals in the fourth round in 2015, throws a fastball, a slider, and a changeup. He has tried to throw a cutter, without much luck. He might find it someday, but he is realistic. The pitch already had its prophet.

  “If it comes, it comes,” Rivera Jr. says. “But only he can do it like that.”

  Acknowledgments

  Some authors told me it was torture to write a book. I’m very lucky, then, because I loved it. I had three full years to write and report on a lifelong passion. But the biggest reason for all the fun was the deep roster of people who helped and inspired me.

  Many years ago, Tony Gwynn told me he learned something new at the ballpark every day. At that moment, I knew I would need many lifetimes to understand even a small fraction of what really goes on in the game. Thank you to every person interviewed here for being my teachers, and giving so generously of your time and insights.

  Brad Lidge was my first interview for this book, and, with his candor, set the template for all the other conversations to follow. Some of the people I was privileged to cover as a beat writer—especially Mike Mussina, Gil Patterson, Jamie Moyer, Bryan Price, Jason Giambi, Mark Teixeira, Al Leiter, and Bobby Valentine—were especially helpful. Others who took a keen interest included A. J. Ellis, R. A. Dickey, Ron Darling, Mike Montgomery, Dan Haren, Brian Bannister, and John D’Acquisto. I am grateful to you all.

  I was there for C. J. Nitkowski’s first major league win, when he beat Curt Schilling at the Vet, and he was there for me throughout this process, a one-batter specialist turned one-line-at-a-time pitching consultant.

  Other friends in baseball helped more than they probably realize, with words of encouragement and acts of kindness. Thank you to Mark Attanasio, Jerry Dipoto, Derek Falvey, Mike Ferrin, Sam Mondry-Cohen, J. P. Martinez, Dayton Moore, Rob Neyer, and Gus Quattlebaum. And I owe a lifetime of thank-yous to Dave Montgomery.

  After nearly every interview, as soon as I shut off my recorder, I would text Derrick Goold and Ben Shpigel to share my excitement. Every time, wherever they were in the world, they responded immediately, and genuinely, as true friends do. Not once did they send me the “Are you for real?” Bitmoji in return.

  Alex Ellenthal entered the game around the eighth inning, and gets the save for his cheerful, prompt, and accurate work transcribing hours of interviews. Thanks to Gaku Tashiro, a true pro, for tracking down and interviewing the God of Forkballs, Shigeru Sugishita.

  Some of my favorite days in the last few years were the ones spent at the Giamatti Research Center at the Baseball Hall of Fame. It sounds almost too good to be true—a library with everything ever written about baseball!—but it’s even better than I could have imagined. Thank you to all my friends in Cooperstown for their help and hospitality, including Jeff Idelson, Brad Horn, Jon Shestakofsky, Craig Muder, Cassidy Lent, John Odell, Matt Rothenberg, John Horne, Jim Gates, Jeff Katz, and Chris, Jen, Rick, and Christine Hulse. Thanks to Bob Kendrick of the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum in Kansas City, and also to Jon Wertheim and Emma Span for letting me peruse the incredible trove of archives at the Sports Illustrated library—and to Jeff Pearlman for encouraging me to do so.

  Besides the books listed in the Bibliography, I used information from other books and articles found at those libraries, and at the library in Wilton, Connecticut, where much of this book was written (at least when I wasn’t writing at the Coffee Barn). I copied hundreds of pages of news clippings at the Hall of Fame, some from as far back as the 1800s, on dozens of pitchers and topics. I also consulted my own articles and articles on many websites (the SABR biographies at Baseball-Reference.com were especially helpful), viewed footage of old games and highlights online, and watched the video documentaries Lefty: The Life & Times of Steve Carlton (1994), Knuckleball (2012), and Fastball (2016). Most statistics come from Baseball-Reference.com and FanGraphs.

  Thank you to the many folks who connected me to the voices you read in these pages, or provided help with photos. All of these people, and more, helped set up interviews or photo rights: Harvey Araton, Scott Boras, Rob Butcher, Greg Casterioto, Peter Chase, Gene Dias, Shelley Duncan, Lorraine Fisher, Steve Grande, Brad Hainje, Dan Hart, Tim Hevly, Jay Horwitz, Craig Hughner, Nate Janoso, Brad Lefton, Paul Lukas, Tony Massarotti, Valerie McGuire, Tim Mead, Adrienne Midgley, Laurel Prieb, Josh Rawitch, Matt Roebuck, Mike Sheehan, Bill Stetka, Bart Swain, Mike Teevan, Jim Trdinich, Rick Vaughn, Shana Wilson, and Jason Zillo. The forever-friendly Larry Shenk, who gave me my very first press pass, pointed the way to Steve Carlton, my baseball hero and the man I most wanted to interview.

  My real hero, though, has always been Jayson Stark, who is the reason I do this and my standard for both writing and integrity. “Gods don’t answer letters,” John Updike once wrote, but I know that’s wrong because Jayson answered mine when I was 14 years old. “You can’t wear No. 32 for the Phillies,” he wrote, “but writing about baseball is the next best thing.” Boy, was he right.

  Not only do I get to learn more about baseball every day, I get to do it around so many dedicated and talented media members whose work and friendship constantly inspire me. I’ll always be indebted to those who gave me such a solid foundation in how to be a professional: Steve Insler, Paul Hagen, Bill Lyon, Scott Graham, Tim Kurkjian, Buster Olney, Bob Costas, George F. Will, Zack McMillin, Lee Jenkins, John Lowe, Peter Gammons, Mike DiGiovanna, Kevin Acee, Jim Street, Art Thiel, Dave Sheinin, Jack Curry, Dave Anderson, and George and Laura Vecsey. And I would never have survived a decade on the Met and Yankee beats without the camaraderie of pals like Peter Abraham, Dom Amore, Sam Borden, Pete Caldera, Ken Davidoff, Mark Feinsand, Dan Graziano, Bryan Hoch, George King, Andrew Marchand, Anthony McCarron, Sweeny Murti, Jesus Ortiz, T. J. Quinn, and so many more. Thanks also to my buddy Gar Ryness; the world
needs more people who can imitate Bo Diaz’s batting stance anytime, anywhere.

  My closest friends in the world—The Posse, as we called ourselves on the mean streets of Fort Washington, Pennsylvania—keep me laughing every day: Joe Benjamin, Mike Daly, Jeff Decker, Mike McCuen, John Pasquarella, Tim Pies, and Jamie Trueblood. John and I started a little baseball magazine together at Germantown Academy in 1988, with Jamie as the art director and Tim as a columnist. I guess I took our project to the extreme.

  Tim Roberts (the best seventy-fifth-round draft pick in Seattle Mariners history) and Dave Cote coached Little League with me for years. I cherished every moment and learned a lot about baseball, too. Nothing but “good game,” guys.

  I am proud to have spent nearly two decades at The New York Times, striving daily to live up to its standard of excellence. From the moment I met Neil Amdur, I wanted to work for him and make him proud. Thank you for taking a chance on a beat writer who wasn’t old enough to rent a car at his first spring training. The unwavering support of editors like Bill Brink, Tom Jolly, Patty LaDuca, Naila Meyers, Carl Nelson, Gwen Knapp, Jason Stallman, and the late, great Janet Elder has meant everything. Colleagues Dave Waldstein, James Wagner, and Billy Witz uphold our tradition of smart, incisive Times baseball writing, while Fern Turkowitz and Terri Ann Glynn have made the whole place go with patience and smiles. The incomparable Jay Schreiber and I worked together on more than 5,000 articles, and I’ve never met anyone whose judgment and commitment I trust more. Thank you all.

  Dan Shaughnessy of The Boston Globe is more than my favorite columnist; he’s also a matchmaker. Dan introduced me to David Black, my agent, who took the time to understand my goals and motivations. I never could have done this without David’s vision, guidance, and belief. Thank you for all of that, and most of all for connecting me with Bill Thomas, my editor at Doubleday, who called all the right pitches with the calmness and wisdom of a veteran catcher helping a rookie through the biggest game of his life. Big thanks to Bill’s assistant, Margo Shickmanter, for all her essential work behind the scenes.

  From the very first moment I stepped on a major league field, I wanted to be part of that world. I got there, quite literally, by kicking and screaming until my parents gave in. It was fireworks night at Veterans Stadium in 1982, and we had perfect seats for the show, 20 rows behind the third base dugout. But I was seven, and all I noticed was that fans from the upper deck in center field were leaving their seats to watch from the field. From. The. Field. I yelled and cried until my mom lifted me over the fence in foul ground, and I stood on the red rubber warning track for a few seconds, gazing up at the lights that ringed the top of the ballpark. After that, there was no going back, and ever since, my parents—John and Mimi—have continued to lift me up, nurturing my dreams in every possible way. More important, they have set a shining example for how to live.

  My brother Tim hid my lucky hat before Game 4 of the 1983 World Series, but I love him anyway. My wonderful sister-in-law, Colleen, probably has no idea she’s married to a thief who cost the Phillies a championship, but now she does. My brother Dave wears his hair like a member of those ’83 Phillies, and I love him for it. Tim and Dave go by Bonesaw and Hoag now, and they’re rock stars in Austin, Texas. Yes, they got all the talent.

  I did throw a shutout in the 2006 media game at Fenway Park, and the next year I invited my father-in-law, Mike Lockhart, to see me dazzle ’em again. Instead, I gave up 10 runs and didn’t make it out of the third inning. Thankfully, Mike has been nice enough to keep me in the family. My mother-in-law, Sue McHugh, is endlessly warm, loving, and accepting. To Tina, Jessica, Kate, Lizzy, Matt, and all of my aunts, uncles, cousins, and in-laws, thanks for always being there for me.

  Shortly after I met my wife, Jen, the Yankees played the Braves in the 1999 World Series. She chose Mariano Rivera as her favorite player because his job was to end the games, which meant I could come home. Covering this sport keeps you away from the people you love, and without a patient, selfless, and understanding wife, I could never do it. Jen is beautiful, smart, compassionate, and kind, a dreamer who brings out the best in everyone she meets. Asking her to marry me was the easiest decision of my life, and she is the best role model our children could ever have.

  I’ve written many thousands of words here, but nothing could properly describe how lucky I feel to be the father of four such amazing children—Lily, Mack, Caroline, and Rory, who make me proud every day, in so many ways. I love them more than they could ever know, and I admire them as people who make the world a whole lot brighter every day.

  Bibliography

  Most of the information in this book comes from more than 300 interviews conducted in person and by phone and email between January 2015 and March 2018. I also purchased and read dozens of books, including the following:

  Abbott, Jim, and Tim Brown. Imperfect. New York: Ballantine, 2013.

  Adair, Robert K., PhD. The Physics of Baseball. New York: HarperCollins, 2002.

  Angell, Roger. Late Innings. New York: Ballantine, 1984.

  ———. Season Ticket. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1988.

  Barney, Rex, with Norman L. Macht. Rex Barney’s Thank Youuuu. Centreville, Md.: Tidewater Publishers, 1993.

  Bouton, Jim. Ball Four: The Final Pitch. Champaign, Ill.: Sports Publishing, 2000.

  Cairns, Bob. Pen Men. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1992.

  Craig, Roger, with Vern Plagenhoef. Inside Pitch. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1984.

  Darling, Ron. The Complete Game. New York: Vintage, 2010.

  Dickson, Paul. Baseball’s Greatest Quotations. New York: HarperCollins, 1991.

  Feller, Bob, with Bill Gilbert. Now Pitching Bob Feller. New York: HarperCollins, 1990.

  Ford, Whitey, with Phil Pepe. Slick. New York: William Morrow, 1987.

  Freedman, Lew. Knuckleball. New York: Sports Publishing, 2015.

  Gibson, Bob, and Reggie Jackson, with Lonnie Wheeler. Sixty Feet, Six Inches. New York: Doubleday, 2009.

  Gibson, Bob, and Lonnie Wheeler. Pitch by Pitch. New York: Flatiron Books, 2015.

  Grant, Jim “Mudcat,” with Tom Sabellico and Pat O’Brien. The Black Aces. Farmingdale, N.Y.: The Black Aces, 2006.

  Gutman, Dan. It Ain’t Cheatin’ If You Don’t Get Caught. New York: Penguin, 1990.

  Hart, Stan. Scouting Reports. New York: Macmillan, 1995.

  Hernandez, Keith, and Mike Bryan. Pure Baseball. New York: HarperCollins, 1994.

  Hershiser, Orel, and Jerry B. Jenkins. Out of the Blue. Brentwood, Tenn.: Wolgemuth & Hyatt, 1989.

  Hollander, Zander. The Complete Handbook of Baseball 1976. New York: Signet, 1976.

  ———. The Complete Handbook of Baseball 1987. New York: Signet, 1987.

  James, Bill, and Rob Neyer. The Neyer/James Guide to Pitchers. New York: Fireside, 2004.

  Kahn, Roger. The Head Game. New York: Harcourt, 2000.

  Knight, Molly. The Best Team Money Can Buy. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2015.

  Kurkjian, Tim. Is This a Great Game or What? New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2007.

  Leavy, Jane. Sandy Koufax: A Lefty’s Legacy. New York: HarperCollins, 2002.

  Marichal, Juan, with Lew Freedman. Juan Marichal. Minneapolis: MVP Books, 2011.

  Martinez, Pedro, and Michael Silverman. Pedro. New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2015.

  Mathewson, Christy. Pitching in a Pinch. New York: Penguin, 2013.

  McCaffrey, Eugene V., and Roger A. McCaffrey. Players’ Choice. New York: Facts on File Publications, 1987.

  McGraw, Tug, with Don Yeager. Ya Gotta Believe! New York: Penguin, 2004.

  Monteleone, John J., ed. Branch Rickey’s Little Blue Book. New York: Macmillan, 1995.

  Morris, Peter. A Game of Inches. Chicago: Ivan R. Dee, 2006.

  Moyer, Jamie, with Larry Platt. Just Tell Me I Can’t. Ne
w York: Grand Central Publishing, 2013.

  Niekro, Phil, and Tom Bird. Knuckle Balls. New York: Freundlich Books, 1986.

  Niese, Joe. Burleigh Grimes: Baseball’s Last Legal Spitballer. Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland, 2013.

  Palmer, Jim, and Alan Maimon. Nine Innings to Success. Chicago: Triumph, 2016.

  Passan, Jeff. The Arm. New York: HarperCollins, 2016.

  Pearlman, Jeff. The Bad Guys Won! New York: HarperCollins, 2004.

  Peary, Danny. We Played the Game. New York: Hyperion, 1994.

  Perry, Gaylord, with Bob Sudyk. Me and the Spitter. New York: Signet, 1974.

  Quigley, Martin. The Crooked Pitch. Chapel Hill, N.C.: Algonquin Books, 1984.

  Reuss, Jerry. Bring in the Right-Hander! Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2014.

  Richard, J. R., and Lew Freedman. J.R. Richard: Still Throwing Heat. Chicago: Triumph, 2015.

  Ritter, Lawrence S. The Glory of Their Times. New York: William Morrow, 1984.

  Ryan, Nolan, and Harvey Frommer. Throwing Heat. New York: Avon, 1990.

  Seaver, Tom, with Lee Lowenfish. The Art of Pitching. New York: Hearst Books, 1984.

  Shaw, Bob. Pitching. Chicago: Contemporary, 1972.

  Smith, Red. To Absent Friends. New York: Atheneum, 1982.

  Sowell, Mike. The Pitch That Killed. New York: Collier, 1989.

  Stark, Jayson. Wild Pitches. Chicago: Triumph, 2014.

  Terry, Ralph, with John Wooley. Right Down the Middle. Tulsa, Okla.: Mullerhaus Legacy, 2016.

  Thorn, John, and John B. Holway. The Pitcher. New York: Prentice Hall, 1987.

  Vincent, Fay. We Would Have Played for Nothing. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2008.

  Wendel, Tim. High Heat. Cambridge, Mass.: Da Capo, 2010.

  Westcott, Rich. Masters of the Diamond. Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland, 1994.