I'm back from Milwaukee, where I enjoyed a wonderful weekend OD'ing on baseball, pork products, humidity, and the hospitality of the Hardt family, my hosts. Aside from my visit to Miller Park (which I'll report on soon), the highlight of my trip came on Sunday afternoon, when I paid a visit to the batting cages at Hegan's Field of Dreams, only a few blocks from the Hardt house. Mike Hegan, the proprietor, is a former major-leaguer who played most of his career in Milwaukee; the arcade-style Field of Dreams included an exhibit of his Brewers and A's uniforms (he was a member of the 1972 World Champions), and a blowup of his Seattle Pilots baseball card, as well as several batting cages.
I don't recall the details of the last time I stepped into a batting cage, but I do remember feeling somewhat humiliated. Several foul tips, some stingers off the hands, and very few solid whacks. That was around ten years ago, and since then, my only swings have come with a whiffle-ball bat playing Home Run Derby in a Northampton back yard. So I was somewhat nervous about not only taking a trip to Hegan's, but doing so in the company of my girlfriend Andra, her older brother Aaron, and her parents, Aaron Sr. and Aune (pronounced "aw-nee"). They've championed this web site since its inception, but there's a reason I call it The Futility Infielder--I was never exactly a wiz with the bat.
As it was, I had a blast in what turned into quite the family outing. All of us, including the ladies, took our turns in the cage (Andra had played softball in her youth, with Aune as her coach; they won three straight Rainbow Softball League titles in Milwaukee). Each round of 14 balls cost $1.25, and each ball--a durable dimpled plastic, like an oversize golf ball--was fired from a distance of about 40 feet. We started on slow-pitch softballs, mashing them around to build our confidence. Our success on the slow baseballs (40 MPH, according to an employee) steeled us to try a round on the medium pitch (50 MPH), with slightly less respectable results.
I felt quite a rush each time I stepped into the batter's box. Settling into a compact crouch stance (think Chuck Knoblauch) I found myself doing my Stargell windmill, just like in Little League, only faster, in time with the rhythm of the machines. Combined with the sweltering heat (it had to be almost 90 degrees in time), I soon found myself drenched with sweat. But I didn't mind, as I connected with pitch after pitch, whiffing only occasionally, lashing some very satisfactory liners into the nettings of the cages, and hamming it up by menacingly pointing my bat at the pitching machine when it issued the obligatory brush-back pitches (two per round, letter-high and inside).
After we'd finished the medium pitch round, Aune admitted that she wanted to try the very fast machine (80 MPH). Ever the inquiring mind (not to mention quite the trooper), she explained, "I want to gain an appreciation for how fast that ball is going and how hard it is to hit when I see the games." So she, Aaron, and I shuttled in and out of the fast-pitch cage like kamikaze pinch-hitters. Facing four pitches apiece, none of us managed so much as a foul tip. Each time, the ball hit the net's protective padding with a loud "thwack" that reminded me of an unsuspecting bug splattering on the windshield of a speeding car. The close distance, poor lighting, and lack of visual cues had something to do with it--at that speed and distance, you practically need to start your swing before you actually see the ball. Not exactly a recipe for success, but a good reminder of the distance between a weekend warrior and a major league hitter.
I took one more turn on the slow baseball machine after my four-pitch ordeal, satisfied that I'd at least found some level at which I felt competent at swinging the bat. I don't expect my agent will get any phone calls from clubs seeking an extra right-handed bat for the stretch run (no, Chuck LaMar, I don't know the way to Tampa Bay), but I'm glad I got at least a small taste of just how difficult it is to hit a baseball again. At roughly $5 per hour per person, it's cheap entertainment, a moderate amount of exercise, a serious jolt of adrenaline, and a hell of a good time.
David Cone continues his unlikely resurgence in a Red Sox uniform. He won his sixth straight decision for the Sox last night, allowing 3 runs in 6 1/3 innings as they beat Toronto 6-4. Dating back to June 3, the Sox have won Cone's last ten starts. Cone has been especially effective since Pedro Martinez went down with a rotator cuff strain, going 3-0 with a 3.10 ERA in 29 innings since Pedro's demise.
Cone's resurgence isn't the only reason the Sox pitching has them hanging tough in the AL East race. Hideo Nomo's gone 4-0 over the past month, with a 3.52 ERA, and Rolando Arrojo has pitched well, posting a 1.64 ERA in 22 innings (1-1). But Tim Wakefield (1-3, 7.17), and Tomokazu Ohka (0-3, 11.25) have undone their good work, enabling the Yankees to overtake the Sox.
A deeper look into Cone's numbers makes one wonder how long his performance can continue. He's averaging only 5 1/3 innings per start, upping that to a whopping 5 2/3 over the course of the streak. His 4.24 ERA is almost half a run higher than the team's ERA (3.76), and his WHIP (walks + hits per inning pitched) is a mediocre 1.50.
More clues can be found in examining his reverse batting record--that is, the cumulative batting statistics of those who faced him. Opponents are hitting .277 off of him, with 13 home runs (1.72 per 9 innings) and an OPS around 800. They've created about 45 runs, using Bill James' formula (ten more than Cone has actually allowed), posting a .595 Offensive Winning Percentage.
So how is he doing it? For one thing, he's been getting good run support, 5.3 runs per game. For another, he's been striking out lots of batters, 7.3 per 9 innings pitched. And though his low innings count means he's not exactly doing the Sox's overworked bullpen any favors, he does at least afford them a measure of predictablity--he's been over 5 innings in every start of the streak, and it's not as if he's taking anybody by surprise when they pull him in the sixth inning. For Cone's part, he attributes improved breaking pitches to his return--something that was sorely missing from his arsenal last season.
I wouldn't bet the farm on him just yet. Given these tendencies, there's a pretty solid chance Cone's performance will decline between now and the end of the season. And who knows how long his luck with the bullpen will last? Or how long the rest of the staff will hold up? They've reattached body parts in so many ways that they could run testimonial ads on thistothat.com.
It is with no small dose of mixed emotion that I watch him succeed. Cone was a favorite of mine in New York, and he's shown the kind of heart, guile, and poise which so endeared him to Yankees fans, only this time wearing an enemy uniform. After he suffered through such a monumentally disastrous season with the Yankees (4-14, 6.91 ERA), it's nice to see him catch a break here and there. I'm not rooting for him with the same zeal I rooted for a departed David Wells. But I'd love to see him reach 200 wins and give himself a shot--however long--at the Hall of Fame. So if anybody's going to help keep the Sox afloat, it might as well be David Cone.
