Playing with Purpose Read online

  After Mariano first learned the diagnosis, he wondered if he’d ever pitch again.

  “At this point I don’t know,” he said in the press conference. “It all depends how the rehab is going to happen.”

  But a day later, Mariano had changed his tune.

  “I’m coming back,” he told reporters. “Write it down in big letters. I’m not going out like this.”

  Mariano didn’t want to end his career sitting in the dirt on a warning track. His legacy is much greater than that. He had defined his position as closer. He was the picture of consistency. And he had developed possibly the most devastating pitch in baseball history.

  3

  A PITCH THAT’S A CUT ABOVE

  Playing catch. Fathers do it with their sons and daughters. Little Leaguers do it to warm up before a game. Even major league players do it to stay in shape and work on their mechanics.

  But during a routine game of catch with teammate Ramiro Mendoza in June 1997, Mariano couldn’t get his throws to go straight. Every time he threw the ball, it would cut and move at the last moment. Mendoza, a fellow pitcher, had trouble even catching the ball.

  Mendoza told Mariano to cut it out, but Mariano couldn’t. The ball just seemed naturally to move that way.

  Mariano had always like fiddling with how he held the baseball. His long fingers and flexible wrist were perfect for a pitcher. But now he had a problem … or did he?

  At the time, Mariano had been with the Yankees for only a couple of seasons. He got batters out with a four-seam fastball that he threw with great velocity and accuracy. Sometimes Mariano’s fastball had good movement, but sometimes it came toward the plate straighter.

  Mariano Rivera’s consistent delivery and devastating cut fastball show up even when he’s throwing batting practice—here, before a Yankees spring training game at Steinbrenner Field in 2010. (AP Photo/Kathy Willens)

  Now he didn’t know where his pitches would end up. Mariano told Mendoza that he thought he was holding the ball the same way. The movement was unexplainable.

  Today Mariano has an explanation for the amazing cutting action on his fastball. “That is my miracle pitch,” Mariano says. “That’s what I call it, because it’s God’s gifting. I didn’t have that pitch before, and nobody taught me that. It came as a miracle.”

  Later in June, Mariano still had difficulty throwing the ball straight as he warmed up before entering a game against the Detroit Tigers. Yankee bullpen catcher Mike Borzello had never seen a pitch like this. It looked like a fastball at first, but then it started a wicked darting action about five feet before reaching the plate. Even the experienced catcher had difficulty keeping the ball from getting past him.

  Mariano pitched that night and recorded the save. He converted his next three save opportunities as well.

  At first, Yankees pitching coach Mel Stottlemyre tried to help Mariano remove the cutting action from his pitches. For a month, Stottlemyre and Borzello worked with Mariano on his grip and release.

  “We were trying to make the pitch stay straighter, [as it had] in ‘95 and ‘96,” Mariano says. “But it didn’t work. Then I said, ‘I’m tired of working at this. Let’s let it happen.’”

  What happened was that Mariano now possessed a pitch that looked like a fastball but acted like a slider when it got close to the plate. Well, sort of. A slider generally moves downward, but Mariano’s pitch moved sideways. And it didn’t take Mariano long to perfect precision with his signature cut fastball. He controlled its location by putting different pressure on the ball with his fingertips. Greater pressure with his middle finger made it move one way. Using the index finger a little more caused it to react differently.

  From a hitter’s perspective, Mariano’s delivery looked effortless. But in an instant, the ball exploded to the plate at nearly 95 miles per hour.

  Jim Thome, who as of the end of the 2012 season has hit more than 600 home runs in his major league career, called Mariano’s cut fastball the greatest pitch in baseball history. Longtime Minnesota Twins manager Tom Kelly once said, “[Mariano] needs to pitch in a higher league, if there is one. Ban him from baseball. He should be illegal.”

  How to Throw the Cut Fastball

  Mariano Rivera didn’t invent the cut fastball. He simply perfected it. Nobody knows who threw the first cutter. Now every pitcher wants to throw one.

  “When I broke in [to the majors in 1999], I could count on one hand the number of guys who threw it,” veteran outfielder Lance Berkman said. “Now it’s like I can count on one hand the guys who don’t have it.”

  Pitching coach Gil Patterson has helped many pitchers learn the basics of the cutter. He even taught it to Roy Halladay, and it quickly became the Cy Young Award winner’s most devastating pitch. (Halladay throws his cut fastball about 20 percent of the time.)

  Patterson says the grip for a cutter is nearly identical to that of a four-seam fastball; however, pitchers must move the grip slightly off center and then squeeze hard with their middle finger as they release the ball.

  While a slider tends to break downward, a cutter moves sideways, which is why batters often hit the pitch off their hands or near the end of the bat.

  If you want to learn how to throw the cut fastball, search the Internet for “How to Throw a Cut Fastball Like Mariano Rivera.” A video and description of the pitch will show you the basics. Then it’s up to you to practice and experiment until you can make it work like a pro.

  Scientists have studied thousands of Mariano’s pitches. What makes him so difficult to hit is that he throws the cut fastball and four-seam fastball with the exact same motion and release. His hand stays behind the ball, and his fingers rest on top. He never turns or flicks his wrist like other pitchers do to create the spin for a slider or curveball.

  “Look at Mo’s delivery, look at how he repeats it,” marveled Joba Chamberlain, who joined the Yankees in 2007. “He does the same exact thing every time. That’s a very hard thing to do—I try, but I can’t do it like Mo. There’s never any added stress on his arm because all the parts move the same way every time.”

  Contrary to popular belief, big league batters don’t possess supernatural reflexes and reaction speeds. What allows a batter to hit a ball are visual cues from the pitcher’s arm and tons of practice. If a pitcher drops down in his delivery or flicks his wrist, a batter can anticipate where the ball is going to be when it reaches the plate.

  Batters have only about a tenth of a second—that’s how long it takes to blink your eyes—to determine what kind of pitch they see and if they want to swing.

  “You can’t see the spin on [Mariano’s cutter],” six-time All Star Lance Berkman said. “A four-seam fastball rotates a certain way. A slider or a cutter is going to spin a certain way—you see a red dot on the ball as it’s coming at you from the seams as it spins. And once you see the rotation on it, you react a certain way. The good cutters, like Rivera’s, rotate like a four-seamer—you don’t see the red dot, you don’t know it’s going to come in on you until it’s too late.”

  When Mariano is on the mound, batters often think they’re seeing a hittable pitch coming over the plate. But by the time they make contact, the ball has moved several inches and is either in on their hands or hit off the end of the bat. Rarely do hitters make contact with the fat part of the bat. More times than not, the ball hits near their hands and often ends up breaking the bat. Mariano has unofficially led the major leagues in broken bats every year since he developed his cut fastball. Some sportscasters have joked that bat maker Louisville Slugger should pay Mariano a bonus because of all the business he’s brought its way.

  But this pitch is no joke to Mariano—it’s a blessing.

  Mariano Rivera and Yankee catcher Jorge Posada (left) got to know each other so well—both on and off the field—that Posada sometimes wouldn’t flash signs to tell Mariano what pitch to throw. He just knew what was coming. (AP Photo/Julie Jacobson)

  “I’m a thousand percent. A thou
sand percent sure,” Mariano says. “[It’s] just a gift from the Lord.”

  Since mastering the pitch, Mariano throws his cut fastball more than 90 percent of the time. He might mix in an occasional two-seam fastball, and about four times a year, he’ll throw a changeup just to keep batters honest.

  Once Jorge Posada became the Yankees’ everyday catcher, it got to the point where he didn’t flash signs to tell Mariano what pitch to throw. Posada would simply signal to throw the pitch over the inside or outside corner of the plate. Mariano rarely throws one down the middle. With pinpoint accuracy and a determination to win, Mariano goes after the black edges of the plate.

  And unlike a lot of closers, Mariano doesn’t resort to intimidation. He doesn’t believe in throwing brushback pitches—one, because he isn’t out there to show up hitters, and two, because that would waste a pitch. All Mariano wants to do is throw strikes.

  “My mental approach is simple: Get three outs as quick as possible,” he says. “If I can throw three, four pitches, the better it is. I don’t care how I get you out, as long as I get you out.”

  Mariano may not try to intimidate hitters when he enters the game, but he does possess four characteristics every closer needs to succeed.

  4

  THE FOUR C’S OF CLOSING

  Almost everything about Mariano is the opposite of what most people think of when they picture a relief pitcher. Closers tend to be a high-strung bunch, known for their bushy beards, waxed moustaches, big rope necklaces, nervous tics, and unpredictable behavior on the mound.

  If Mariano could be described in one word, it would be predictable. He warms up the same way before every appearance. He never looks rushed or worried. His demeanor is always calm, whether he’s pitching in a spring training game or in the World Series. Even his signature pitch—the cut fastball—is predictable. Batters know it’s coming, but they still can’t hit it.

  The Yankees know they can always count on Mariano. Before his injury at the beginning of the 2012 season, he’d been as reliable as the sun rising in the east. Since taking over as the fulltime closer in New York in 1997, Mariano has provided amazing stability in the Yankee bullpen.

  Although Mariano’s actions may not line up with the craziness associated with most relief pitchers, he does possess four other C’s that every closer needs to succeed: confidence, concentration, control, and competitiveness.

  • Confidence. Every time Mariano walks onto the field, a Yankee victory hangs in the balance. If he does his job, the Yankees win. If he struggles, all of his team’s hard work from the previous eight innings could be erased. It’s a pressure-packed situation with all eyes in the stadium focused on him.

  But Mariano doesn’t fear the pressure—he embraces it.

  “If the pressure is so much that it doesn’t allow you to do your job, then that kind of pressure is bad,” Mariano says. “But if you don’t think about it and just go out and do your job, you can have success.”

  Mariano has had plenty of success. More than 90 percent of the time he’s called on to close a game, he notches a save and secures a Yankee victory. Sometimes, however, the other team is able to get some hits and score a run against him. In all of his years in New York, he’s never blown more than nine save opportunities in a season. Every blown save hurts, but he doesn’t let it shake his confidence.

  “If I doubted myself, I wouldn’t be doing this,” Mariano says. “You just go out and do it. That’s the mind-set that a closer has to have.”

  Instead of dwelling on a blown save, he looks at it as an opportunity to improve. “I don’t call them blown saves,” Mariano says. “I call them learning processes. I learn when I do something wrong and then try to move on.”

  Much of Mariano’s confidence comes from years of success on the mound. But his greatest source of confidence comes from his Lord, Jesus Christ.

  “When God takes control of everything, He’s inside of you and He brings you strength,” Mariano says. “He has the power to do everything for you. I feel like God is on my side and will help me deal with anything.”

  • Concentration. One of the first bits of advice Little League coaches give pitchers is to focus on the target. They want their young pitchers to concentrate on one thing: the catcher’s glove.

  Mariano takes that focus to another level. His laserlike concentration allows him to block out everything—fans cheering and chanting his name, hecklers from the crowd, organ music—and throw perfect strikes. Friends have often come to Yankee games and tried to get Mariano’s attention when he’s on the mound. Some have even been a little offended because he seems to be ignoring them. But Mariano’s not ignoring his friends—he just doesn’t see them.

  When Mariano digs his cleats into the pitcher’s mound, he enters his own little world.

  “I feel like it’s just me and the catcher,” Mariano says. “I don’t even see the hitter. I feel like everything is gone—the noise, the fans. I’m in kind of like a tube, and it’s the catcher and me.”

  Mariano says the pitcher’s mound is a peaceful place for him, even a place of worship.

  Mariano Rivera doesn’t show a lot of emotion on the mound, but he couldn’t help but smile after breaking Major League Baseball’s all-time saves record at the end of the 2011 season. (AP Photo/Kathy Kmonicek)

  “Every time before I throw my first pitch, I am praying,” he says. “And not only that, in the bullpen I am praying. I know there are millions of people praying for me, and I strongly believe in prayers.”

  • Control. Relief pitchers don’t have time to mess around on the mound. Every pitch counts. They can’t afford to walk batters and put potential tying runs on base. Pinpoint control is a must.

  The average major league pitcher throws a strike 62 percent of the time. But according to 2009 statistics, nearly 70 percent of Mariano’s pitches are strikes. And his strikes aren’t down the fat part of the plate. He paints the corners with his cut fastball and makes it difficult for batters to get solid wood on the ball.

  Mariano doesn’t just control his pitches on the mound—he also controls his emotions.

  “I don’t get nervous,” Mariano says. “I trust God. If I get nervous, I can’t do my job.”

  • Competitiveness. Mariano may look calm and composed on the mound, but he’s fiercely competitive. He wants to win at everything he does—a trait he possessed even as a small child.

  “Since I was a little one, I was real competitive,” Mariano says. “I never give up. If you beat me, you have to beat me one, three, four, five times, and I still don’t give up.”

  That competitive drive helped him develop his cut fastball. He worked hard at it, throwing it over and over again until he had it mastered. He knew it was a weapon that would help the Yankees win a lot of games. And Mariano always wants the Yankees to win.

  During the early innings of games, Mariano can often be found in the clubhouse watching the game on TV. He’ll shout at the television screen and cheer on his teammates.

  “He’s a trip in here during the game—screaming, yelling, cheering, rooting,” says former Yankee pitcher A.J. Burnett. “It’s loud. I mean, he’s shouting, ‘Come on, you can do it!’ He’s yelling at the TV and jumping around.”

  Mariano sometimes gets so caught up in the game that his competitiveness spills out onto the field. During an August 2011 game against the Kansas City Royals, Mariano watched as the umpires got a home run call wrong. After seeing the replay on TV, he ran from the clubhouse to the dugout to complain about the call.

  Once Mariano actually steps on the field, all of that jumping around is gone. He focuses his competitive energies on one thing: getting three outs as quickly as he can.

  “I love everything about pitching,” Mariano says. “Just being on the mound and competing. There is nobody to come and save you. You have to get it done. There is no time to play around. It’s time to get it done and go home.”

  Today Mariano makes his home in a New York City suburb. But he gr
ew up about 3,000 miles from the bright lights of Yankee Stadium, in a small Panamanian fishing village.

  The History of “Firemen”

  For nearly a hundred years, there was no such thing as a closing pitcher in baseball. The “save” didn’t become an official Major League Baseball statistic until 1969. Not long after, teams started to develop pitchers who would throw the last few innings of a game to clinch a victory.

  At first, these pitchers were called “firemen” because they’d often enter the game to put out an offensive “fire” from the other team. A manager would call for his fireman when the opponent already had runners on base and was threatening to score.

  In the 1970s, pitchers such as Rollie Fingers, Bruce Sutter, and Rich “Goose” Gossage gained fame with their abilities to come out of the bullpen and shut down opponents. They’d regularly pitch several innings in relief. In fact, for their careers, Gossage and Sutter have more saves of two innings or more than one-inning saves.

  The role of the modern-day closing pitcher didn’t truly develop until the early 1990s. Manager Tony La Russa, who has won World Series titles with the Oakland A’s and with the St. Louis Cardinals, made Dennis Eckersley the first pitcher to be used nearly exclusively in the ninth inning.

  Today’s closers almost always pitch just one inning a game. For his career, Mariano Rivera has just one save of seven outs or more, while Gossage (who also pitched for the Yankees) notched 53.

  As of the beginning of the 2012 season, only five closing pitchers have ever been inducted to baseball’s Hall of Fame: Eckersley, Fingers, Gossage, Sutter, and Hoyt Wilhelm (a knuckleball thrower from 1952–72 who specialized in relief pitching).

  5

  REAL-LIFE FISH STORY

  Puerto Caimito is a tightly knit coastal fishing village in central Panama. People who live in this tiny town on the Gulf of Panama have always made their living from the sea—mainly through fishing. Everybody there knows everybody, and everybody knows that the most famous person to come from their village is Mariano Rivera.