Met a fellow a few weeks ago, and he told me he had played sandlot baseball, that he had been a good-field, no-hit catcher. This isn’t unusual. Most catchers can’t hit. It’s a defensive position.
I asked if he blinked his eyes when the hitter swung the bat. He insisted he never blinked. Immediately, I knew he was a fraud.
All catchers blink, including Carlton Fisk, who Tuesday night caught his 2,226th game, a major league record. Curious, I asked Fisk if, after 21 full seasons behind the plate, he is still blinking.
It is an instinctive reaction when the pitch is coming and the bat flashes in front of the catcher’s eyes. The first lesson the schoolboy receiver learns is to forget the bat, that he must concentrate on the ball.
Fisk said he was blinking more than at any time in recent years. He said this was because he has been rusting on the bench, playing only once or twice a week. I told him that even when he was at the height of his career he was blinking but didn’t know it. A slow-motion film, I am certain, would reveal the fraction of a second when the catcher’s eyes are closed.
This is mentioned now because many fans don’t have a full appreciation of the catcher. The same goes for the players. Most players, at some time during their career, play every position. But squatting behind the plate with mask, chest protector and shinguards-the so-called tools of ignorance? No, thanks.
The general assumption that catchers are big, dumb oafs is an old wives’ tale. The opposite usually is true. Moe Berg, who spoke seven languages and caught for several clubs, including the White Sox, was a graduate of Princeton and the Sorbonne. Seven of the current big-league managers were catchers. It would have been eight if Jeff Torborg hadn’t been fired.
Catching is the most physically demanding position. The catcher must be both strong and courageous to withstand collisions at the plate. More than any other player, he is likely to fracture a finger or break a hand and is prone to arthritis in the knees. Severe bruises in the arms, which are not protected, are common.
The catcher is also the only player in the defensive lineup who has the entire game in front of him at all times. And, of course, he functions as the counselor of the pitcher as well as the rest of the team. The good catcher, in effect, is an assistant manager.
Speed is not essential, but good lateral movement, to pounce on bunts, is a necessity. To gun down would-be base stealers, a strong and accurate arm, coupled with a trigger release, is required. The secret is getting the ball airborne fewer than two seconds after it hits the mitt.
“Every other infielder can take two steps and aim and throw,” said Hall of Famer Johnny Bench, generally considered the best all-around catcher in the last 50 years.
“The toughest thing in the world to do is go out there and make good throws to second base from a cold arm. When does a catcher warm up? You’re lobbing the ball to the pitcher and all of a sudden, within 1:43 seconds, you have to throw a ball 127 feet, 3 inches and put it six inches off the ground.”
Catchers can only relate to each other, alone in understanding this mysterious position. This was brought home to me in spring training five or six years ago when Jim Sundberg and Bob Boone, though on different teams, shared an apartment in Arizona. Sundberg was then with the Cubs, Boone with the California Angels.
“We talk catcher-talk,” Sundberg explained. “About rundown plays, about the hitters, their strengths and weaknesses, and how you can lose 10 pounds on a Sunday afternoon in Texas. Here’s a stat only catchers know: One year, when I was with the Rangers, the temperature was 105 degrees, or higher, 45 days in a row.”
In part, this is what the Encyclopaedia Britannica, in its entry on baseball, says about catchers:
“The `good hands’ essential to every player are especially important for the catcher. Throughout the game he must catch the pitched balls not hit by the batter and sometimes pitches that strike the ground near the plate. Sometimes he must jump for a high one or a wide one.
“If the batter has two strikes, the ability of the catcher to catch a tipped ball and hold it results in a strikeout, ending the batter’s turn at bat with a putout; eluding the catcher’s grasp it becomes a mere foul ball, granting the batter one more chance to hit safely.”
“I loved it,” said Joe Garagiola, a former somewhat anonymous catcher who later gained fame as a network broadcaster. “But I’ve never seen a catcher cheered for stopping a pitched ball.”
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There always seems to be a dearth of good catchers. Mom, when she agrees to allow sonny boy to play Little League, doesn’t want him catching because of the increased possibility of injury. What she doesn’t realize is that a sure-handed catcher who can throw has the best chance to make the climb to the big leagues.
Which brings us back to Carlton Fisk. Now that he has broken the record for most games caught, the indications are that after a respectful two- or three-week period, the White Sox will give him the pink slip. At the age of 45 he isn’t the catcher he once was. He’s been dropping pitches and doesn’t have much steam on his throws.
The magnificent old warhorse, like Samson, has been shorn of his home-run power, but he remains an unconquered competitor. And he’s not a .189 hitter. Tuesday night he ripped two line drives, both caught, to deep center and right-center. If it’s the end here he should be able to make another big-league connection. Good catchers, even overage catchers, can help a club.