Curiosity killed the cat, I know. But what are they talking about? The catcher trots out to the mound, and he and the pitcher engage in some secret conversation, lips hidden from spies behind their gloves. Uh, oh, here comes the Pitching Coach, who trots purposefully out to the mound and he joins in the discussion. Then the third baseman comes in, and the shortstop, and soon even the first baseman is hovering on the side of the group, extending his ear, trying to eavesdrop. What is the first baseman doing there? Is this a team decision making meeting? Does he get to vote? Does he just not want to feel left out? Something’s going on. Something’s happening, Uh oh! Now it’s the umpire jogging his way toward the mound and the group scatters like teens caught smoking cigarettes in the school bathroom.
But then there are the other visits, the visits when the Main Honcho Father Figure Guy strolls to the mound, leisurely, sometimes menacingly, sometime kindly and says a few words, then slaps the pitcher on the butt, and the pitcher takes that long walk back to dugout by himself. I can almost hear the conversation between the two of them. “But I don’t want to go, Dad. I’ll do better. I got one more 91 mph in me.” “Son, we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the ugly way.” Of course, you know who always wins. Except in the case of Grady Little and Pedro Martinez in the 2003 playoff series.
A coach or the manager may visit the pitcher just once per inning. If a new pitcher is put into a game, again, the coach or manager can visit him just once during an inning. If a coach or manager visits the pitcher the second time during that inning, the pitcher must be removed. A coach or manager can also visit a pitcher when the umpire calls a timeout at the request of the opposing team, but the visit has to end when the timeout ends.
“Visit to the mound” is such a friendly term, isn’t it? It invokes images of “Hey, how you doing? Can I get you anything? A coke? A nacho boat, perhaps, from the snack bar? A bit more sunscreen?” Not likely, but a friendly thought nonetheless. If the pitching coach is out there, you know that he is probably talking about how and where to pitch to the batter. Mel Stottlemyre, the pitching coach for the Mariners, is my favorite in this role. He looks like he is
having a grand old time out there talking to the players about the game, about the batter, or maybe even about the good old days. If a pitcher looks hurt or strained something or got hit, the coach is probably out there assessing the damage to their investment. If the Main Honcho Father Figure Guy is out there, you know it’s the beginning of the end.Sometime the manager will slowly stride to the mound, chat with the pitcher a bit, (here comes that nosey parker from first base again!) and make a big deal of the releasing of the pitcher. It is one of those great rituals of baseball -- the changing of the guard, the acknowledgement of a game well pitched, the crowd cheering a particularly fine display of pitching and skill. Sometimes it is more like a stadium of Romans booing a failing pitcher who is having a bad day and is being released well before the fifth inning. Or sometimes it is just the respectful applause of the crowd for the too short glory of a specialty pitcher brought in to pitch to just one guy.
It is during these moments of high drama that I think that baseball parks need to return to live bands or at least a return to the Hammond Organ to add a dramatic soundtrack to the drama unfolding before us. A strike-up of “Fanfare for the Common Man” is appropriate for the pitcher who wowed us with extraordinary skill and precision. Or for the pitcher who obviously is not happy to be leaving the game earlier than expected, a subtle rendition of “Take This Job and Shove It!” might get the crowd riled up.
Sometimes, the Main Honcho Father Figure Guy seems to leisurely stroll to the mound and chat jovially with the pitcher and the other boys gathered at the mound. You think he might be negotiating or talking it over with the pitcher. Be assured, he has made his decision. But if he can stretch the visit out a bit, it can give the relief pitcher in the bullpen just a few more moments to warm up.
Visits to the mound from the catcher are a little different. The catcher is not limited to just one visit each inning. The catcher might go out to the mound to talk to the pitcher if it appears that the signs aren’t clear, or if there is going to be a change in signs, or to make sure the two are on the same page. That’s when you see the stealthy talk behind the gloves so the rascals from the other team don’t use their stealthy-lip-reading-spies to steal the signs. (See Spies Amongst Us entry) Sometimes the catcher goes out there to slow the pace down or calm the pitcher down. Jason Varitek, catcher extraordinaire for the Boston Red Sox said he once walked out to the mound and told the pitcher he (Varitek) just needed a minute to calm down himself after a questionable call from the umpire.
There’s a great scene in the movie Bull Durham where catcher Crash Davis goes out to the mound to tell pitcher Nuke LaLoosh, who is pitching his best game yet, to hit the team’s mascot. It was a ploy to mess with the batter and frighten him because Nuke was getting too predictable in his fast balls. But there is no sign in a catcher’s repertoire to tell the pitcher “Hit the Bull.”
Those kinds of visits I understand. But I’m so curious what is going on when everyone on the team seems to gather at the mound. What is that all about? And what is that guy from First Base doing there, hovering on the outside of the group, extending his ear towards the conversation? It look likes a football huddle from my MOFF (More of A Footbal Fan) days.
There another great scene from Bull Durham of the gathering at the mound that will forever change your perception of what the heck is going on. (Girlfriend, if you haven’t seen Bull Durham yet, run don’t walk to see it, or I swear I will show up at your doorstep late some night with my copy, a bag of Cheetoes and a bottle of cheap wine.)
The game is stopped dead in its tracks and most of the team is huddled at the plate engaged in a serious conversation. The manager tells the assistant manager to get out there and find out what’s going on there.
Assistant Manager jogs out to the mound and says to the team, “What the hell is going on out here?”
“Well, “ Crash (the catcher) says, “Nuke is scared because his eyelids are jammed and his old man is here. We need a live rooster to take the curse off Jose’s glove and nobody seems to know what to get Jimmy and Millie for their wedding present. That about right?” He looks to the gloomy crowd gathered around the mound. Everybody nods. Crash continues, “We’re dealing with a lot of shit right now.”
The assistant manager chews his gum a bit, and kicks the dirt with the toe of his shoe. He mumbles, “ Ah, well, uh candlesticks always make a nice gift and maybe we can find out where she’s registered, maybe get a place setting or a silverware pattern set. Okay, let’s get to it!" He pats the first baseman on the butt and jogs back to the dugout.
That’s another way to make baseball fun. Next time the game stops because the troops are gathering around the pitcher at the mound, make-up your own dialogue. Or mutter out loud. “Candlesticks make a nice gift.” Guaranteed to get a smile out of The Boyfriend.
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