The Next Pitch

When a guy has played 23 seasons and started 737 games, it's hard to say that his next start is the most important of his career. Then again, Greg Maddux would always say that his next start is his most important one, just as he'd say that his next pitch is his most important. And he'd mean it.

He's won 354 games, tied for both eighth highest in baseball history and the highest total of his generation. (He is only nine wins shy of 363, the highest win-total since WWII, the highest win-total since Jackie Robinson and the courageous African-American ballplayers that followed him broke the color barrier.) Greg -- we're not on a first-name basis, but I'm hoping he won't mind -- has won four Cy Young Awards. He's won seventeen Gold Gloves, the most of any ballplayer, not just any pitcher. He's competed in twelve post-seasons and won a World Series. He won at least fifteen wins for seventeen consecutive seasons, breaking the record previously held by ... Cy Young.

Many of us think Greg Maddux is the greatest pitcher of his generation. Some of us thought so well before credible allegations were made that Roger Clemens had used steroids to enhance his performance.

I'll say more about Maddux's character later, but here's a taste: When he won number 354, tying Clemens, Mad Dog was asked to compare himself to the Rocket. He praised him to the hilt, adding that "everybody knows" it's harder to pitch in the American League -- where Clemens spent most of his career -- than in the National. When asked, in a recent Internet chat with fans, whether he thought Clemens had cheated, his answer was an unequivocal "No."

I was a die-hard Cubs' fan until the Cubs made the preposterous decision to not aggressively pursue Maddux after his 1992 season and let him sign with the Braves. He never wanted to leave Chicago and the Cubs, even though he wasn't pitching for a winning club. All he did was follow up his 1992 Cy Young Award with ones in 1993, 1994, and 1995.

He was not just the first to win four in a row; he was the first to win three consecutively. Randy Johnson later repeated the feat (1999-2002), and the 6'10" left-hander believes Maddux is the best he's seen. Part of what makes Maddux so special is that he's never been a dominant hurler that could overpower hitters with a 98 mph fastball, like Clemens or Johnson. At his best, maybe he topped out in the low-90s, and for some time his fastball has been in the mid-80s, perhaps the lowest speed in the league (though former teammate, and fellow aging veteran, Jamie Moyer might hold that crown).

Baseball people use the word velocity to mean the speed of a pitcher's pitches. It's an unfortunate misnomer, especially in Maddux's case, since velocity includes both speed and direction. Though his pitches didn't have much speech on them even when he was racking up Cy Young awards, they've always had great movement and location. With the possible exception of Satchel Paige, there has been no pitcher in baseball history as capable of making the ball go exactly where he wants it to.

A recent story in ESPN The Magazine related the time, just last season, that a reluctant Maddux pitched to the Padres' bullpen catcher (Ben Risinger) ... while Risinger had his eyes closed. (Bullpen coach Darrel Akerfelds yelled "Now!" to tell him when to squeeze his mitt.) The first glanced off the top of the catcher's mitt. ("That's enough," Maddux said, walking away.) "One more," Risinger insisted. The second hit him "square in the pocket," but either Akerfelds or Risinger was too slow, and the ball didn't stick. (Another "That's enough" and another "One more," this one with a "Please?" that reads like a little kid asking if can stay up for just a little longer?) The third time was the charm. Akerfelds and Risinger broke out into uncontrollable laughter, while Maddux "looked on with a wry smile, shaking his head."

It's hard for me to explain the things, beyond the unbelievable statistics, that make Greg Maddux such a special ballplayer, such a special person, really. Athletes call them "intangibles," and Maddux leads the world in them. You'd never hear him tell the story that I just retold from the ESPN article. You'd never hear him talk about the coaching he's given teammates -- even former teammates -- even a non-teammate whom Jamie Moyer asked him to help after Moyer beat him 1-0 -- an opponent whom Maddux had the ridiculously bad luck of facing just one week later, just three weeks ago, after being traded to the Dodgers. Greg's advice was too good: his mound opponent, who'd been in a tailspin, threw a dominating game, and Maddux's second debut with the Dodgers -- in his first debut, in the last two months of the 2006 season, his 6-3 record and 3.30 ERA helped propel them to the playoffs -- ended in a loss.

I've watched almost every pitch he's thrown in his 23 seasons and 737 starts, and I have yet to see him betray even a momentary wince when a player behind him messes up. I've read just about every word he's said publicly and yet in none of those words has he called out -- criticized -- a teammate or put the onus for a loss on anyone but himself. Believe me, there were many times he would have been richly justified in doing so, but that's just not the way he rolls. I use that casual expression because that's the way Greg comes across. It never seems like he's just saying the polite thing -- or saying the right thing but with an invisible wink. He means it.

The irony is that Maddux, who is as calm as can be after every start -- win, loss, or no decision -- leads the league in a category I haven't mentioned yet: swear words. Some rookie umpires misinterpret the one-word vulgarities that jump out of Maddux's mouth after bad pitches as criticisms of bad calls. But those %$#^s are directed at one person, and one person only, himself. The comedy is that he'll yell at himself even when the result of the pitch is a success: an out, a strike, etc. Perhaps the only trait I can say I share with my idol is that neither of us is a consequentialist.

All he concerns himself with is how well he executes the pitch (and plays the field, and swings the bat). The results are, literally, out of his hands. And as soon as the swear word is out of his mouth, so is the frustration out of his brain. His focus is on to the next pitch, the most important pitch. You'd be tempted to say he has a Zen-Buddhist philosophy in which his attention is on the labor, not the "fruits of the labor." But that's hard to square with the guy who once showed up extra-early to the Braves' clubhouse with breakfast sandwiches for everyone ... and then watched teammate after teammate react with confusion, which morphed into a roomful of laughter, when they realized that he'd taken a bite out of every single one. Then again, I've heard tales of Zen masters who spent a whole lot of time laughing, so maybe that does describe him.

Just don't tell him I said so. He's the most modest, most unassuming superstar that's ever played the game, any game.

So why did I say Maddux's next start might be his most important ever? Mostly because I'm a lot more selfish than he is. The Dodgers have just fourteen regular-season games left and lead the NL West by 4.5 games. I watched the Padres go down in flames the last few days last season (and the Cubs do the same the last couple weeks three seasons before) -- in case I didn't make myself clear, I've been a "freelance Maddux fan" since 1993: wherever he goes, I go -- so, believe me, I'm not taking it for granted that the Dodgers will reach the post-season. But, given that they've won twelve of thirteen while the Diamondbacks have collapsed -- moving, unbelievably, from 4.5 games behind Arizona to 4.5 ahead in just two weeks -- today's game is not a "must win" for the team.

Being so team-oriented and unselfish, that's the only kind of result Maddux really cares about in baseball, a team win. He's so focused that he never looks ahead, not even a pitch ahead ... except if it's to set up a batter, but that's a whole 'nother post. So, unlike me, I don't think Maddux has looked ahead to the post-season or given any thought to the question that's been worrying me lately: will the Dodgers make the playoffs but leave Greg out of the pitching rotation?

Pitching staffs have used five-man rotations for decades, but in the post-season, the rotation usually consists of four, or even three, pitchers. If the Dodgers make the playoffs, barring unforeseen injury the first two spots are set: Derek Lowe and Chad Billingsley. But the third and fourth -- if there is one -- are up for grabs. Clayton Kershaw, the rookie who's as young as Maddux was when he reached the major leagues -- in 1986 -- has been inconsistent but shown streaks of brilliance, including in Saturday's six-inning, one-run win. One could describe Hiroki Kuroda, also technically a rookie but a former star in Japan, in much the same words. And then there's the wild-card, Brad Penny, who's only recently returned from the disabled list (and pitched just once, retiring none of the three batters he faced), but who's been a dominant pitcher in the past and just might steal away that third or fourth spot.

The third and fourth, if it isn't a sweep, games of the Division Series I hope the Dodgers will play in would be played at home, at Dodger Stadium. Kershaw, Kuroda, and Maddux have all performed brilliantly at home this season. Maddux's home ERA is the lowest of the three (2.65, compared to Kershaw's 3.27 and Kuroda's 3.54), but he also had a different home for most of the season and, particularly for a 42-year-old, "What have you done for me lately?" is the question on every one's lips.

I wrote earlier how I thought Dodgers' manager Joe Torre had misused Maddux in two of his four starts, setting him up for failure, but the fact is that Maddux's record with the Dodgers is 1-3. His first start (and loss) began propitiously but ended disastrously. His second start, also a loss, in which he allowed only two earned runs, was marred by awful defense, most of it Jeff Kent's, who finally admitted two days later that he'd been playing injured. He was placed on the disabled list and underwent minor knee-surgery.

I don't think it's a coincidence that Kent's last game was the eighth of an eight-game losing streak and that the team has won twelve of thirteen since. That's another thing that makes Maddux a special player: while Kent probably thought he was being manly for playing through the pain and maybe even convinced himself he was helping the Dodgers, the truth is he was hurting his team as much as his knee. Maddux, on the other hand, always tells his manager when he's "done," when he thinks the team would be better off with him off the field and a "fresh arm," as Chuck Tanner used to refer to relief pitchers, on the mound.

But a loss is a loss, and Maddux was 0-2 after his two first starts with the 2008 Dodgers. He won the next game, a home game, 5-2, but he lost the one after that. The team had just swept the Diamondbacks to capture sole possession of first place for the first time since the first week of the season(!), and Torre was concerned enough that the players might suffer a letdown that he called a team meeting before the game. He had reason to be concerned. The offense didn't score a run against the last-place Padres and the team looked flat -- that's what Torre said: Maddux blamed the loss on himself for giving up two first-inning runs -- but again, even though Maddux allowed a respectable four runs in six innings, a loss is a loss.

Maddux has pitched only one of his four games since joining the Dodgers at home, and he won it. Two of his three other starts have been fine, but fine isn't always good enough when managers are deciding whom to start in critical post-season games. Today's start is on the road, at challenging Coors Field, while his final two regular-season starts should come at home. I know Joe Torre has great regard for Maddux, but he's only managed him for a few weeks, and the final two weeks of the season will essentially be an audition for the third and fourth spots in the post-season rotation, assuming the Dodgers get there.

Kuroda and Kershaw both pitched very well, though not dominantly, in their last starts. Penny is waiting in the wings, champing at the bit for a chance to get back into the rotation.

I think Torre can be convinced -- even wants to be convinced -- that Maddux's veteran presence is just what the Dodgers need in Game 3 of the Division Series. But Maddux will have to convince him.

A solid performance in today's game against the Rockies, ideally a win in which he pitches at least six innings, would go a long way toward persuading Torre. Is today's start the most important of Maddux's 23-year career? "Of course," he would say, but only because every next start -- every next pitch -- is the most important to him. I think it also might be the most important start for getting him a spot in that post-season rotation.

He can't secure it today -- he'll need to pitch well in those final two starts, those final home starts -- but he could lose it. Colorado is the toughest team he'll face in his last three starts of the regular season, and his mound opponent, Aaron Cook, is no slouch.

I've used the word "final" a few times, and I felt a lump in my throat each time I wrote it. It's possible that these next three starts will be the final three of Maddux's season, if either the Dodgers suffer a collapse in the next two weeks or he doesn't earn a spot in the post-season rotation. It's also possible that these next three starts will be the, gulp, final three of Maddux's career, since he said during spring training, with little fanfare, that he might retire at the end of the season.

But it's way too soon to think about that. It's way too soon to think about the post-season rotation. And it's way too soon to think about the second and third games Maddux will pitch in these next two weeks. I'll do my best to follow my idol's cue and just concentrate on today's game, on the first batter of today's game, on the first pitch.

UPDATE (9/14, 4:27 pm): That may be the best seven innings I've seen from Maddux in years: 0 runs, 2 hits, 3 strikeouts, 0 walks, 68 pitches ... at hitter-friendly Coors Field. You can't get a W if your team doesn't score, though. Kudos to Aaron Cook for pitching out of trouble and throwing a great game himself. I'll be curious to find out whether they removed Maddux purely for offensive purposes with two outs in the top of the 8th. (The pinch hitter singled, Juan Pierre singled, and there was a small window for Greg to be the pitcher of record with a lead -- but it closed quickly when Matt Kemp grounded out to end the inning.)

Maddux's record is still 1-3 with the Dodgers, but there's no way Torre wasn't impressed with what he saw today. It's frankly the best start I've seen from a Dodgers' starter not named Derek Lowe since Maddux joined the club, and it was arguably just as good as Lowe's best -- especially since it came at Coors Field, where routine fly balls have a tendency to turn into home runs. He kept the ball down consistently, hit his spots consistently, fielded his position beautifully, and wriggled out of the one threat the Rockies were able to muster. After nearly gloving Clint Barmes' grounder -- and then tracking down the deflection and nearly throwing out Barmes at first -- he was faced with a runner at second with no outs after Barmes stole the base. Up against the heart of the order, he got both Matt Holliday and Brad Hawpe to pop up and then retired Garrett Atkins on a ground out. Vintage Maddux.

The game goes to the bottom of the 9th with the score 0-0. This doesn't happen at Coors Field! Let's hope the Dodgers can manage to make this an extra-inning game, and then I'll let you know how many games at Coors Field have gone to the 10th with the game tied at zero. It can't be many.

I got the answer. This is the first game ever to reach extra innings at Coors Field with no runs having been scored. Unbelievable!