Thanks to poor Internet, a busy schedule, and—okay, I’ll admit it—a rather shallow degree of interest, I haven’t really kept track of the deluge of play-off activity. It’s all a bit too much for me, even though I understand that it’s more dollars in the coffers of the MLB. Jeez… why not just create a tournament and let every team in?
But the little I’ve been able to see has left me more confident than ever of two lessons we teach in Metal Ropes. I particularly noticed them being illustrated by their absence in the potent Dodger offense—potent until it faced the superior pitching of the Nationals. Bellinger, Muncy, Lux… the big lefty guns in the middle of LA’s order seem intent on pulling. Cody actually tends to stride open: if he can, he’ll rake anything he reaches to right field. Now, if I were to label this a characteristic of “modern decadence”, I’d have to carry modernity back to Johnny Mize and Duke Snyder: the dead-pull hitter was very much a feature of the Fifties (when, except in the case of Ted Williams, there was no radical shift to contend with). Nevertheless, I think the Dodgers would do well to research how certain guys not named Babe Ruth—say, Napoleon Lajoie, Honus Wagner, and Rogers Hornsby (to name three right-side oppo-hitters) went about their business. It looked to me as though the Rays managed to breeze past the much-favored Athletics by hitting the other way in that do-or-die match.
Now, as we argue in my latest book, hitting the other way puts several things in your favor. Most importantly, it gives you more time. If you’re facing a Scherzer fastball, it allows you a split second more to get barrel to ball—for you’re trying to let the pitch get very deep. If what Ernie Johnson, Jr., called Anibal Sanchez’s “dipsy-doodle” is making you look like a fool, then thinking oppo gives you time to track the pitch: to see, specifically, if it’s going to break into your wheelhouse or plunge out of the strike zone. And, yes, if you do barrel it up, you’ll probably pull that one in spite of yourself… but waiting on it has allowed you to get the barrel on it. Pulling “by accident” is okay, you know. Guys like Mike Schmidt used to hit a lot of home runs that way.
I won’t linger over the other advantages of hitting to the opposite field. Let’s just say that, for lefties, forcing the far side of the infield to make a long throw works strongly in your favor. Of course, with these extreme shifts we see, it’s unlikely that anyone on that side of the diamond can ever keep your hit from reaching the outfield!
The other thing that kept hammering away at me was how often the modest forward transfer of weight keeps the barrel off the ball. We visit this subject in Metal Ropes again and again. Most of yesteryear’s great batsmen were front-foot hitters. If you see photos of them making contact as they lean back, it’s because they were fighting off a good, tight fastball and were unable to get forward as far as they typically would have. That’s actually one of the assets of the strong forward transfer: you can instantly adjust to a blazing fastball and lean your hands into the pitch even as your weight is still trying to get off the back leg.
When, however, you are always rolling back in a bid to pull the ball from your all-important “launch angle”, a less-than-perfectly timed pitch will soon end your at-bat unproductively. If the fastball slightly beats you, then your wood will sweep under it just as it passes over the plate. (Thanks to all the high-tech slo-mo of today’s cameras, it’s very easy to study replayed instances of such failure.) If, on the other hand, Sanchez has you a little out in front, the dip in your swing is already carrying the barrel over the ball as the two pass somewhere in front of the plate. I see a great many weak roll-overs in the 2019 hitting game, and not just in these play-offs. They have grown to be a very familiar outcome. (Gotta say it: Trea Turner’s double to open Game 2 was a roll-over that Justin Turner misplayed at third. If you looked closely, you could see Justin give a nod to Kershaw afterward signaling, “That one was on me.”)
By shifting your weight decisively forward, you postpone the point when the bat has to pull out of its mildly descending line into the ball. You make solid contact, even after slight mistiming, much more probable. Justin Turner has had a very good series at the plate; and, although I’m not a big fan of the high leg pump, he uses it well to achieve a strong forward weight transfer (without any of that “get your foot down early” folderol that fouls up the front-foot hitter’s dynamics). The reference I made earlier to Deadball Era hitters who were sometimes photographed falling back—and Ty Cobb’s name would have appeared prominently if I’d offered a list—already had their bat going straight at (and slightly downward into) the pitch when they got fisted. Even though their shift wasn’t completed, they had entered into it early enough to get their wood traveling a productive path.
Well… back to the grind. Enjoy the rest of whatever series you’re following. Personally, I’m trying to ignore the Braves. They always seem to get my hopes up—and then dash them at the very end!