Memories of Pedro

Maybe it was because of my upbringing, but as a child, I never thought of the world as a particularly magical place. I had a pretty good imagination and I was always filled with curiosity and amazement at the seemingly endless surprises that my ever expanding universe bestowed. But all of the things they tell little kids about in an effort to protect their innocence, I was never really into. I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was 5 and me and my brother caught our parents chatting away, eating the cookies we had left out for him as thanks for giving us presents. When I left my first tooth for the tooth fairy under my pillow, I woke up the next morning with nothing under my pillow but the imprint of a child's tooth pressed firmly into my sheets (on second thought, maybe I didn't believe in magic because my parents botching their duties or something). And don't get me started on the Easter Bunny a big rabbit that gives kids eggs... get real... not even a little kid would believe that crap.
The closest I ever got to magic was on ESPN, between the ages of 12 and 15, when I would get to see Pedro Martinez pitch, either on Sportscenter, or occasionally on a nationally televised game. Those moments were the ultimate in escapism, one of the best things about baseball, you just knew the man was gonna but on a show for you everytime out; he rarely disappointed. As he approaches retirement, his frail body (for a pitcher) not being able to withstand the rigors of being a pitching god any longer, I want to dedicate this post to him- because I finally got a chance to see him pitch live. As Bill James said in the Historical Baseball Abstract, "How can he be so much better than the other pitchers?" it is something that I always wondered about and I could only come up with one conclusion- the man had magic in his arm.

I first noticed Pedro in 1997, while he was still with the Montreal Expos. That was the year he won his first Cy Young award. He was a workhorse then, throwing 13 complete games, but what I was most concerned about was his ending of the Atlanta Braves streak of Cy Young awards, which by that time had become the personal property of Atlanta Braves pitchers (Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine, or John Smoltz). I hadn't seen him pitch much, for the most part any game that did not involve the Braves was not of much interest. The next year he was out of the National League- given an enormous contract by the Boston Red Sox. His first year in Boston was very very good, but he happened to run into Roger Clemens second year with the Blue Jays while he was doing his best Walter Johnson impression, you know, leading the league in wins, strikeouts and ERA for the second consecutive year.
1999 though.. wow! 1999 was a pretty bad year all things considered. We moved into our second trailer park, one even crappier than the first, my dad lost his job; there is an assortment of other stories for another day. Needless to say, my spirits had every reason to be uplifted, and they were provided by a Dominican with a magic arm. It is my contention that Pedro Martinez in 1999 and 2000 was the greatest pitcher in the history of baseball. This was one year after the insane 1998 home run race, the absolute peak of offensive prowess, where even backup catchers had the ability to hit opposite field, flat-footed, 500 foot home runs. In that environment he put up ridiculous numbers. 2.07 ERA when the league average was 5.02, a WHIP (walks and hits per inning pitched) of .923, 313 STRIKEOUTS in 213 INNINGS. His ERA was lower in 2000 (1.74!) as was his WHIP (.737!!) and the league ERA was higher (5.07), but he was extremely hit unlucky in '99, and his strikeout rate was much higher then too. Those two years together are easily the best two year stretch for any pitcher. In fact, I dare someone to name a better seven year stretch for a pitcher than Pedro between 1997-2003. It was like Zeus came down from Mt. Olympus, chucking white round bolts of lightning. I would have believed it.
Pedro had it all, an explosive fastball, a Bugs Bunny style changeup, a knee-buckling curveball, the ability to throw from all kinds of arm angles. Most importantly though, and this was something people often missed out on, the man was smart, the way that almost all great pitchers are. He spoke in thoughtful metaphors when he talked to the press, and he always seemed to go to the mound with a plan of action. A dominant pitcher can control his sport like no other position in all of athletics, and Pedro dominated to an extent that no one really has. When a pitcher is going like Pedro at his peak- striking out 12-14 batters per game, he doesn't need his defense for much. And that's why I always liked him more than the other great artistic pitchers of my lifetime.

Greg Maddux was an artist as well, he did not have the golden arm that the other dominant pitchers of his time did. His ability rest in his impeccable control, his ability to get groundballs, and his high intelligence. Greg Maddux was an outstanding pitcher, but he was never electrifying, he was enjoyable in the way that an independent film is. It makes you think, you never question that you are in the midst of brilliance, but you are pretty sure you aren't in the same room as transcendence. Roger Clemens gave off the opposite aura, he never appeared to be an artist. His persona was one of the classic Texas fireballer, a much more refined version of Nolan Ryan. He threw almost as hard as Ryan, but cared about the subtleties of pitching; he saw walks as losses not ties or victories the way Ryan did. Clemens made hitters feel overpowered, his gun was just bigger than theirs. Randy Johnson had my single favorite pitch, the hard biting slider which seemed to travel from one end of the ballpark to the other before crossing the plate from an impossible angle and burying itself somewhere near the batters ankles. He was nasty, had a mean streak, figured out how to pitch relatively late, awkward as a stork, but almost as great as the other two overall and just as dominant at his peak.
But Pedro- he combined the artistry of Maddux with the sheer devastation of Clemens and Randy Johnson. Contrary to what Crash Davis said, I always thought that strikeouts were more democratic than groundballs, strikeouts are between two participants and is one of the three true outcomes (walks and homers being the others), groundballs get an outside party involved. Pedro was Piccasso with a ball, painting corners, constantly experimenting from different arm slots (which may, along with his frailness, explain his injuries), absolutely befuddling hitters with a vast array of weapons. But he was also more than willing and more than able to overmatch you, like Clemens he could bring the big guns in a hurry; he just deployed them in a more varied fashion. A more interesting analogy is to generals- Clemens was like the Colin Powell, adminstering overwhelming force. Pedro was Genghis Khan, who also had overwhelming force at his disposal, but with a more creative and engaging flair. Both get the job done, one is more memorable.

The moments I remember the most. 1999 All-Star game at Fenway where he struck out Barry Larkin, Larry Walker, Sammy Sosa, Mark McGwire and Jeff Bagwell, making each of them look foolish, like they were swinging a drumstick. 1999, when he struck out 18 against the dynastic Yankees allowing only a single home run to Chili Davis (in my mind more impressive than striking out 20 hacktastic Mariners or Tigers like Clemens did). 1999, Cleveland Indians playoff game, comes in with a sore shoulder, not being able to lift up his arm- 6 no-hit innings on guile to clinch the divisional series. It was incredible to watch beauty that close- he never threw as many innings as he did in 1997, but I figure that you can't ever have too much of a good thing. Baseball fans were spoiled rotten by those seasons, what he did, in a notorious hitters park, in baseballs most offensive era, in its most offensive league, was absolutely absurd (I guide you to take a look at his baseball reference page)- I'm glad I was a fan when it happened.

The game I went to where I finally got to see Pedro live, he got shelled, taken out before the fourth inning, the Phillies went on to cruise in that game. He was a shell of his former self, his fastball hovering in the mid 80's, trying to get by on his ability to pitch. When your stuff is as flat as his was, it's pretty hard to get results no matter how much you know about pitching. This may be the end of the line, magic like his doesn't last forever- maybe his arm was living on borrowed time, it's pretty cool that he got to share it with us all.