The New York Mets spent the better part of the National League playoffs fussing and cussing, calling the split-fingered fastball thrown by Houston`s Mike Scott all sorts of dirty names.
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Gee. Imagine what the Mets would have said if they had known what the nasty split-fingered pitch, the unhittable rage of the 1980s, was called when it was being developed at the San Diego School of Baseball a decade or so ago. ”We just called it a Little League change-up,” said Bob Cluck, who founded what has become the nation`s foremost baseball camp in his backyard in 1970.
”Roger Craig and I were working on pitching at the time. We were looking for something kids could use to throw a change-up. Well, we found out that if a young pitcher spread his fingers on the ball a little, he could throw it just as hard as a fastball, it just wouldn`t go as fast.
”So we started teaching it to kids. And it worked. Then as they got older, and their fingers got longer and they could split them more, they began to find that the ball would start to drop.”
Craig went on to spread the word, the Johnny Appleseed of the split-fingered fastball. One of his most apt pupils was Scott, much to the Mets`
chagrin.
Meanwhile, back in San Diego, Cluck and his group of mad baseball scientists continue seek the key to perfect pitches, flawless swings.
”This is kind of a laboratory,” Cluck explained. ”We started developing teaching theories over the years to work with kids.
”What we found out was that what worked for 8- and 9-year-olds, applied to 12- and 13-year-olds, which applied to 15- and 16-year-olds, which applied to minor leaguers and so on.”
It will come as no surprise to Texas Rangers` fans that pitching coach Tom House is one of eight shareholders in the San Diego School of Baseball.
”It`s a brain pool,” House said. ”And it all translates to what we`re trying to do with Texas.
”If you watch, you`ll see that the pitchers` fielding drills we do here are the same ones we run the Rangers` pitchers through in spring training. A little different vocabulary and intensity, but the drills are the same.”
The athletic complex at Grossmont College includes a baseball field with a view that begins at the outfield fence and ends on the horizon. In between is a scenic valley and miles and miles of mountain ranges, one after another.
It is breathtaking, but it`s not the reason several dozen youngsters were out of breath one recent afternoon. It is from going through one specialized drill, then rotating to another and another.
In center field, Tony Gwynn, who led the National League with a .351 batting average for the San Diego Padres in 1984, is using whiffle balls on a tee to explain the theory of hitting.
Behind second base, former Ranger coach Glenn Ezell and future Ranger Class A manager Jim Skaalen work on the double-play pivot with another group. To simulate a sliding runner, ”Larry the Laundry Bag” is rolled at the base as each boy makes his throw.
Fielding. Pitching. Hitting. Each is broken down, and each participant samples each area for three weekends.
Hopefuls as young as 5 are welcome, as are high schoolers and everyone in between. Then there are seven weekly appointments for one-on-one instruction in hitting or pitching with one of the school`s teachers.
It is an impressive group. Dave Smith, who had 34 saves for the Astros last year, is a part-owner. So are Gwynn and Detroit Tiger All-Star second baseman Alan Trammell, former major-league pitcher Brent Strom, Houston Astro scout Reggie Waller, House, Cluck and Ezell.
Willie Stargell has dropped by to talk to the kids, and declined to accept a fee. Pete Rose, George Brett, Dave Dravecky, Billy Doran and Graig Nettles have taught a few sessions.
A marquee name isn`t enough to earn an invitation, either. Rollie Fingers, a future Hall of Famer, expressed an interest awhile back. But it was decided he was not a good enough instructor.
There`s more than fundamentals involved, too. Education in proper nutrition, conditioning, training and the harmful effects of drug and alcohol abuse are stressed. It is not surprising that the program has been sold out for the last 12 years and that 75 percent of those who attend return the following year.
There are many fine baseball clinics around. What makes the San Diego School of Baseball different is the commitment of the people involved to find a better way to teach this grand old game.
Two stories illustrate the point.
A group of the school`s instructors piled into a reclaimed school bus one fine day last fall, headed for the Baja Peninsula and a round of golf.
It was not long, though, before golf was almost forgotten. Soon former major leaguer Bob Skinner was in the aisle of the bouncing bus, demonstrating theories on hitting with a golf club.
That was shortly after the group decided to have a baby shower for the wife of Rangers` left-hander Ron Meridith. Meridith is a part-time instructor. ”Before you know it,” Cluck said, ”House and Dravecky and Meridith are over in the corner, looking at videotapes of pitchers. We got into a lot of trouble with our wives, but that`s the way it is when you get these guys together.”
It all started because Cluck, an infielder in the Pittsburgh Pirates`
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organization, decided to build a batting cage in his back yard. He hoped it would help him make it to the majors.
It didn`t. But the neighborhood kids began to come over to use it, and Cluck began giving them some pointers.
”I was frustrated wondering why I didn`t make it to the big leagues,”
he said. ”One thing was lack of talent. But poor coaching was part of it, too.
”So we started developing theories over the years. You couldn`t go down to the library and check out a book on how to run a baseball camp. We were learning it on the fly. And what we learned was that a lot of the ways that pitching and hitting were being taught were just wrong.”
That is why students at the San Diego School of Baseball learn to hit a whiffle ball off a tee, centering on the backside of the ball. It`s called the ”fine center.” That is why one day they may be swinging rackets instead of bats to develop form. That is why Cluck and his people have been using videotape for 15 years, long before it became chic in the majors.
It`s also why Cluck is collaborating with Steve Garvey on a book due out in May about hitting.
You do not think the exact same skills a Pee Wee Leaguer needs to hit a baseball do not carry over to the majors?
”A lot of times, I`ll be working with one of the students, and I`ll notice something in his swing that I`m doing wrong, too,” Gwynn said.
”I had always had trouble pulling the inside pitch. But when I was explaining it, it became easier for me to do. It surprised me. I`m the type of hitter who has always just done things, but doing this helps me get out of slumps quicker because I have a better understanding of what hitting is about.”
Joel Skinner, a catcher for the New York Yankees, comes to camp because his father Bob was one of the first to join Cluck and because he got some of his earliest catching lessons when he was 13 years old from Ezell.
Smith attended the San Diego School of Baseball when he was in high school.
”You see so many different mechanical problems that you can relate to,” he said.
And who knows? Maybe someday all this tinkering will provide another baseball breakthrough. Maybe even a dependable way to hit the split-fingered fastball.