Brooklyn Baseball:
New Boots and Errors

Seth Kolloen

A reporter once asked longtime manager Darrell Johnson how he knew when to take out his pitcher. "You just listen to the ball and the bat come together," said Johnson. "They make a terrible sound."

The "terrible sound" of well-conditioned, well-trained major league baseball players thwacking mediocre pitchers is something we're all familiar with. Texas Rangers fans probably even more so.

But you don't hear that sound so often at a low-level minor league game. Not because the pitching is so outstanding, but because most of the hitters are still learning their swings. This is true of a lot of things for the New York-Penn League Brooklyn Cyclones. For the optimistic fan (me), it's a reminder of just how difficult professional baseball is, and a chance to see minor league players learning to do the things that will get them to the bigs.

Learning at the Plate
Most of the hitters don't quite have their timing down yet. You don't see many hard-hit line drives. Most balls that are hit are dying quails or soft ground balls. There are plenty of home runs, though, mostly by players with huge uppercut swings who are lucky enough to get a fastball they can handle.

Noel Devarez of the Cyclones is a perfect example. He has this elaborate timing system in his swing to generate the most possible power-he starts with his hands way above his head, the bat parallel to the ground. As the pitch is delivered, he steps with his front leg, and lets the bat fly threw the zone-sort of like a golf swing. The problem is that unlike a golf ball, the baseball moves. If Noel is lucky enough to get a fastball down the middle, he belts it-in fact, he's third in the New York-Penn league in home runs. However, if the pitcher throws anything off-speed, or any breaking pitch, Noel is toast -- as reflected in his .194 batting average. He'll have to cut down his swing if he has any chance of advancing past A-ball.

Most of the hitters are strictly fastball hitters. Every home run I've seen has been on a fastball, and I've seen very few base hits off of good breaking pitches. I suspect that pitching statistics aren't much good for evaluation in low-A ball, because the best pitchers are going to be junkballers whose stuff would get pummeled at higher classifications.

Learning in the Infield
You notice that you are at a minor-league game right away during between-innings infield practice. I grew up watching major-league games, and I can't ever remember an infielder making a throw so bad that it eluded the first baseman. But it happens quite frequently at a Cyclones game. Throws go over the first baseman's head, throws skip past him -- fans in the first few rows have learned to stay alert between innings.

Most of the infielders' arms are a little short for the position they are playing (think David Eckstein, a second baseman playing shortstop for the Angels). Even in practice, infielders have to get a lot on their throws to get them to first-they don't do those little wrist flip throws you'll see from a major league infielder. As a result, there are many more fielding errors, as infielders charge balls in able to get their throws off in time.

Another thing I'd never seen was mistakes on the post-strikeout or post-infield-out toss around the infield (is there a technical term for this? I remember "throw it around" in Little League, but that's it). I've seen two or three at Cyclones games. Once the first baseman fired it to the third baseman, who was not looking. It whipped right past his ear-he never saw it. It would have broken his nose, had it been on target. The first baseman nearly had a heart attack.

Pop-ups seem to be a problem. Twice in the first homestand, infielders called for a popup, settled in a spot-and the ball dropped 15 feet behind them. I thought that was strictly a little league mistake, but apparently not. At a game last week, a hitter popped the ball up in foul territory, right by the first base bag. The first baseman called for it, was under it, and then the second baseman inexplicably crashed into him, causing the ball to drop.

The first baseman just kind of looked at him, with this "what the hell?" look, like you might give to a friend who put their cigarette out on your dashboard. The second baseman responded with the ubiquitous "my bad" motion.

Do you think that when Ralph Branca gave up the "Shot Heard 'Round the World" to Bobby Thomson, he turned to Jackie Robinson or Pee Wee Reese, thumped his chest with his fingers and shouted, "My bad!" I don't either.

If the averages hold, only two Cyclones players will ever make it to the major leagues, even for a cup of coffee. For some of these players, they are at the peak of their professional careers. Which is depressing. But it's fun to see them out there working on their games every day -- and to see them improve. Maybe some will make it to a major or minor league park near you someday.