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#1
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![]() Last chance, last dance for love. Let's hope he gets into the HOF where he deserves to be!
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#2
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![]() If Morris gets in, I would have to think this 3.90 ERA would be the worst of anyone in the HoF. Have to disagree he's worthy.
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#3
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![]() Quote:
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#4
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![]() What part of this do you disagree with? I agree he was never a shoe in which is why it has taken so long.
http://espn.go.com/mlb/story/_/id/10...-the-hall-fame |
#5
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![]() Interesting read about Maddux
Greg Maddux: A Hall of Fame Approach That Carried An Average Arm to Cooperstown 2014-01-08 16:40:36.565 GMT Jan. 8 (Washington Post) -- When Greg Maddux was in his pitching prime, I spent several days in spring training talking with him about pitching and watching his baseball habits. Almost everything he said was new to me. On Wednesday, he stands on the brink of election to the Hall of Fame, yet I have never heard any other pitcher mention his basic insights about pitching. What he did and why his keen mind had chosen to do it that way are largely unexplored. This week, many will celebrate Maddux's 355 wins, the second-highest total in the last 100 years. His dual personality will get a knowing nod from friends: an average-sized nondescript everyman who could pass for a math teacher, but a tenacious Mad Dog on the mound. In a clubhouse ex-Braves president Stan Kasten said, "He's funny; he's totally nuts." We'll never know the frat-house anecdotes that caused the most laughs or head shakes. Maddux should be one of the most-copied pitchers ever, yet few would even know where to begin, because he seldom opened up about what he believed about pitching and why. [More from Thomas Boswell on the Hall of Fame] First, Maddux was convinced no hitter could tell the speed of a pitch with any meaningful accuracy. To demonstrate, he pointed at a road a quarter-mile away and said it was impossible to tell if a car was going 55, 65 or 75 mph unless there was another car nearby to offer a point of reference. "You just can't do it," he said. Sometimes hitters can pick up differences in spin. They can identify pitches if there are different releases points or if a curveball starts with an upward hump as it leaves the pitcher's hand. But if a pitcher can change speeds, every hitter is helpless, limited by human vision. "Except," Maddux said, "for that [expletive] Tony Gwynn." Because of this inherent ineradicable flaw in hitters, Maddux's main goal was to "make all of my pitches look like a column of milk coming toward home plate." Every pitch should look as close to every other as possible, all part of that "column of milk." He honed the same release point, the same look, to all his pitches, so there was less way to know its speed — like fastball 92 mph, slider 84, changeup 76. One day I sat a dozen feet behind Maddux's catcher as three Braves pitchers, all in a row, did their throwing sessions side-by-side. Lefty Steve Avery made his catcher's glove explode with noise from his 95-mph fastball. His curve looked like it broke a foot-and-a-half. He was terrifying. Yet I could barely tell the difference between Greg's pitches. Was that a slider, a changeup, a two-seam or four-seam fastball? Maddux certainly looked better than most college pitchers, but not much. Nothing was scary. Afterward, I asked him how it went, how he felt, everything except "Is your arm okay?" He picked up the tone. With a cocked grin, like a Mad Dog whose table scrap doesn't taste quite right, he said, "That's all I got." Then he explained that I couldn't tell his pitches apart because his goal was late quick break, not big impressive break. The bigger the break, the sooner the ball must start to swerve and the more milliseconds the hitter has to react; the latter the break, the less reaction time. Deny the batter as much information — speed or type of last-instant deviation — until it is almost too late. But not entirely too late: Maddux didn't want swings and misses for strikeouts, but preferred weak defensive contact and easy outs. He sought pitches that looked hittable and identical — getting the hitter to commit to swing — but weren't. Any pitch that didn't conform to this, even if it looked good, was scrapped as inefficient. When available, Maddux studied tape of every home run hit in the big leagues the previous day. That's all: homers. Where were the danger zones — location, location? Though he didn't try to maximize velocity or break, just late movement, Maddux did believe that almost perfect control of every pitch was the one essential gift for him. And he was a fanatic on command. One day he pitched alone on an empty field except for his catcher. I've never seen a pitcher use an entire empty field for practice. And I have never seen one show much emotion in a supposedly meaningless practice period. With no one to distract him, Maddux concentrated like an actual game. He might throw a dozen pitches and show nothing. But on the next, if he missed his spot badly, he would rip the air with a curse, his head snapping with the violence of his yell. Always the same word, like a gunshot; perhaps it hurt his throat, like self-punishment. But in a second, he was calm. The final pitching product was one of the most elegant, intelligent and fierce self-creations in American sports. Maddux left hitters with an "I-am-stupid, kick-me" sign on their backs. He pitched complete games in much less than two hours without ever throwing one eye-popping pitch. Hundreds of pitchers could do it — in theory. No one else ever has. The sequence, the mind, the command, the intuition, the hauteur was all. Few pitchers ever worked so quickly or showed such understated arrogance, like his dismissive snag of a shot back through the box or a third-out strut-off third strike — called — on a changeup or swing-back fastball. From ages 26 to 32, he started 226 games, walked just 222 unintentionally with a 2.15 ERA and a 127-53 record (.706). How could he always seem so certain? After retiring from the military, Maddux's father moved his family to Las Vegas, where he became a casino blackjack dealer. Growing up, Greg asked his dad if he worried about the large sums of money he might lose for his boss if someone got hot and went on a run. Might it cost him his job? His father explained there were basic rules for a dealer: when to take a hit and when to hold. He simply had to do what he'd been taught. The odds were in favor of the casino, "the house." Dad might have a bad night or bad week, but he told his son "in the end, the house always wins." Greg Maddux figured out early, and never forgot, that his next pitch was actually the next turn of the (baseball) card. With several pitches, four strike zone quadrants and many changes of speed, the variations were vast. Know their strengths; avoid them. The rest belonged to you — a stacked deck. But behind every Maddux success was his utter confidence that, with a selection of masterfully controlled pitches that looked identical until the last second, hitters were fundamentally and forever at such a basic disadvantage that he was in complete command of his long-term fate. "My dad never worried. He was 'the house,'" Maddux said. After a nice little pause, a slight change of speeds, his sly hole-card grin snuck out. "I am the house," he said.
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Felix Unger talking to Oscar Madison: "Your horse could finish third by 20 lengths and they still pay you? And you have been losing money for all these years?!" |
#6
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![]() Ughh as a Met fan. Couldn't stand Maddux or Glavine even when he was with the Mets.
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#7
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![]() Glavine's Met career went up in smoke in his final start against the Marlins #Disasterous
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Felix Unger talking to Oscar Madison: "Your horse could finish third by 20 lengths and they still pay you? And you have been losing money for all these years?!" |
#8
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![]() If he gets left out again, will the Jack Morris crusaders finally go away forever?
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#9
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![]() When they gave Morris the ball jn Game 7.......you knew he would never lose. HOF ...well deserved. Best quote. to a lady reporter "I don't talk to women when I'm naked unless I'm on top of them."
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#10
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![]() Yes. On this topic...
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#11
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![]() Maddux, Glavine and Big Hurt in
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#12
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![]() No Morris...I will have to let it go.
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#13
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![]() Obviously the right 3.
Moose gets in eventually. |
#14
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![]() Biggio should have gotten in, and hopefully will next year given how much he missed by. 3,000 hits should be an automatic qualifier, even if they came at the expense of his career average.
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#15
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![]() Yea, I saw that, what did he fall short by? 2 votes?
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"A person who saw no important difference between the fire outside a Neandrathal's cave and a working thermo-nuclear reactor might tell you that junk bonds and derivatives BOTH serve to energize capital" - Nathan Israel |
#16
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![]() Yep, 2 votes. He had 74.8% of the vote. Pretty brutal. Next year Randy Johnson, Pedro Martinez and John Smoltz are on the ballot for the first time.
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#17
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![]() Does Andres Galarraga get in eventually?
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"A person who saw no important difference between the fire outside a Neandrathal's cave and a working thermo-nuclear reactor might tell you that junk bonds and derivatives BOTH serve to energize capital" - Nathan Israel |
#18
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#19
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![]() Only if he pays the $8
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#20
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![]() Biggio used if Bagwell used.
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