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Greg Prince and Jason Fry
Faith and Fear in Flushing made its debut on Feb. 16, 2005, the brainchild of two longtime friends and lifelong Met fans.

Greg Prince discovered the Mets when he was 6, during the magical summer of 1969. He is a Long Island-based writer, editor and communications consultant. Contact him here.

Jason Fry is a Brooklyn writer whose first memories include his mom leaping up and down cheering for Rusty Staub. Check out his other writing here.

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Johan, on the Mound, with the Change-up

The poor Orioles are getting killed at Citi Field, and they don’t have a clue.

Yesterday it was R.A. Dickey, armed with a knuckleball that was for all intents and purposes unhittable, one he used to write the latest chapter of his remarkable story. Greg chronicled R.A.’s second straight one-hitter here yesterday; today Roger Angell — our spiritual father as the pioneer of sportswriting that doesn’t shy from the unabashed fan’s perspective — did so in the New Yorker. From my couch, I mused to myself that Dickey turned to the pitch hoping it would redefine his career, and now it’s possible that his career might redefine the pitch.

I’m serious — Dickey is part of the lineage of knuckleballers, and of course honors his forebears, but he’s an entirely different cat.

The knuckleball has always been baseball’s sideshow act because it is fundamentally out of control — a knuckleballer launches the pitch and lets it do what it will, accepting of the certainty that disastrous days will join glorious ones. On a basic level, that’s anathema to baseball people, which is why knuckleballers have always occupied the baseball fringe. But, again, Dickey isn’t like that. He uses the knuckleball as raw material, changing its speed and elevation and locating it precisely instead of randomly, making the knuckling effect more like the action of a hard-breaking slider or a split-finger. It’s possible Dickey’s just on a remarkable run, and will find himself at the mercy of his strange pitch again. But it’s also possible that he’s found a way to evolve the knuckleball into something else — a quasi-new pitch, made less mysterious and more dangerous, that will be studied and copied and adopted.

However it turns out, R.A.’s remarkable and we’re lucky to have him — but then of course we’re not the Orioles.

Tonight, the bird-killer was Johan Santana, armed with a deadly change-up, a slithery slider, just enough of a fastball and a brain that could teach a master class in pitching. Two starts removed from making history, Johan was back to being Johan 2.0, the marvelous second act that’s also proven pinch-me stuff at Citi Field this year.

Sometime this summer, I was in the park throwing pitches to Joshua, and the kid got curious about the fact that in the big leagues pitchers change speeds and can make the ball curve. Somehow that led us to discussing how hard all this is.

It’s hard to hit a spherical ball with a cylindrical bat, period — I never got the hang of it even when my Little League coaches were throwing underhand. (My kid, alas, has inherited these genes.)

It’s harder to connect sphere and cylinder at the right angle and with enough force that the ball flies off somewhere far enough and fast enough that the guys with gloves can’t catch it.

It’s harder still when the guy holding the ball can throw it faster than you’d want to drive a car on the interstate.

It adds several more degrees of difficulty at least when the guy throwing it can also make the ball bend and break and dive or come in with deceptive sloth and you have to instantly judge whether it’s going in the dirt or inside or outside or MOTHER OF GOD RIGHT AT MY HEAD.

The amazing thing about baseball, when you think about it that way, is that anybody hits at all.

Johan was able to do all those things tonight, meaning a dozen or so of the very best baseball players on the planet had no chance. In the top of the fourth I found myself chuckling and shaking my head at the clinic he put on against Mark Reynolds and Steve Pearce. No score, one out, runners on second and third — and Johan went to work. Change-ups, sliders, fastballs, until you half expected to see Reynolds and Pearce rocking back and forth in the batter’s box, their timing so utterly ruined that they flew apart like cheap tin toys. He was in no particular peril, except for the possibility of his teammates getting him no run support — something Daniel Murphy and Lucas Duda and Jordany Valdespin (with an assist from Wilson Betemit) took care of. Johan left at a reassuring 100 pitches, the bullpen was flawless, and the Mets kept rolling.

R.A. and Johan. When they’re on, it’s a privilege just to watch them work.

* * *

Speaking of Johan, it was nice to catch sight of Mike Baxter in the dugout, smiling and chatting with Dickey and Mike Nickeas.

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve found myself heading to at least every other day, making a beeline for the video highlights of Johan’s no-hitter. I always play Gary Cohen’s call of David Freese’s strikeout, of course. But my next step, more often than not, is Baxter’s catch. I find myself holding my breath a bit at the fearful-looking trajectory of the ball off Yavier Molina’s bat; at the sight of Baxter scrambling backwards and then sideways, glove outstretched; at the awful, ominous angle of his shoulder driving into the wall and seeming to bend; at the sight of the ball rolling and spinning in the pocket of the glove; and finally at the way Baxter’s mouth pops open as he crumples to the warning track.

R.A. Dickey’s twin one-hitters have been wonderful to witness, yes — but imagine them without Johan’s no-no, without the collective exhalation that preceded never again counting how many games we’d gone without experiencing what 28 other franchises had. Without the It Has Happened game, Dickey’s one-hitters would have come with a side dish of frustration, an extra helping of Woe Is Us. Instead, we’re left to bask in them.

But back to the Whitestone Kid. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become aware that big-league careers are made or undone by the littlest things. A good day at the plate as a fill-in might get you another start, a second good day might get you a chance at a platoon role, a hot streak as a platoon player might get you a starting job, and a starting job might mean you’re a very wealthy man. Or, conversely, if one link in that chain of events breaks, none of it happens, and you’re the answer to a trivia question. Last year few of us thought Baxter was anything but a fill-in, a guy whose Mets debut came with a defense-assisted extra-base hit and the sight of his family jumping up and down in the stands. Nice moment, but no reason to think it was more than that.

But this year Baxter got another shot and made the most of it — to the point that the talk was how to fit him into the outfield at the expense of Andres Torres and Jason Bay, or whether he might grab a first baseman’s glove if Ike Davis were Buffalo-bound. Baxter hadn’t quite arrived, but he was on the cusp of it. And then, in preserving a teammate’s no-hitter, it all slammed to a halt. Baxter displaced the sternoclavicular joint between his collarbone and breastbone, a rather delicate joint that’s involved in most every movement the shoulder makes, and tore the cartilage attaching the ribs to the sternum. Such injuries typically take six weeks to heal, after which who knows what price Baxter will have paid in range of motion, not to mention shaking off the rust of a long stint on the DL, getting his timing back, and muscling his way back into a Mets outfield that’s as crowded as when he left. Baseball is a pitiless game, and it’s entirely possible that Baxter may never be able to turn those broken links back into a chain — which would be a price paid for a no-hitter that won’t be remarked upon nearly as often as it deserves.

I hope it’s not the case — I want to see Baxter return in late July, get a standing ovation in his first plate appearance, and pick up right where he left off.

Either way, if Mike Baxter ever buys another beer in this town, Mets Nation has fallen down on the job.

12 comments to Johan, on the Mound, with the Change-up

  • 9th string catcher

    Could you imagine Angell writing a book about this Mets season? You guys should. What a year. The stories – Dickey David Wright’s resurgence, Collins incredible faith in guys like Quintinia, Baxter, Valedespin, not giving up on Davis, even Pelfreys story is compelling. It’s fascinating.

  • Metsfaninparadise

    Can you imagine being given the choice of having a decent career or having your name remembered forever as a Mets hero? The team you grew up rooting for? Which would you choose? Of course, Baxter didn’t have a choice.

  • Metsfaninparadise

    That’s only if it turns out to be the worst case scenario for him, of course. But it would be a compelling soryline attached to the game, as if it needed any more.

  • Metsfaninparadise


    • mikeL

      i’d guess the career…the mets-hero-forever status has to be much more meaningful for us fans than for a young man seeking to make a living playing ball.

      the hero-forever status won’t pay the bills either but for the odd card show…and it would be a shame to see a guy with a promising career in the bigs have to take a regular job.

      dude’s tough. my money is on a rousing return at citi field and very important at-bats – and catches in left field – come early august.

      fingers crossed!

  • mikeL

    …and wishing all a good nite’s sweep :0)

  • Jacobs27

    Through and through, this is just an extremely likable team this year. Easy to root for, especially the Whitestone Kid.

  • […] They had Valdespin kicking up the energy level as always and Mike Baxter returning and chipping in and Jason Bay quietly having an OK game after a poor start — if Bay hadn’t pushed it and taken third on Baxter’s pinch single in the 10th, that run Acosta gave up would have made it 7-7, and then God help us. (Remember, Baxter never buys a beer in NYC again. We owe him.) […]

  • […] Baxter. As I’ve written before, he made that catch for his teammate and inflicted that damage on himself when his career was at a […]

  • […] to make everyone to talk about him instead of the game.) Get used to it: Even if Dickey winds up redefining the knuckler by demonstrating that you can change speeds with it and use it up and down to change hitters’ […]

  • […] knows? Dickey is having a remarkable year, one that might be significant not just for him but for the evolution of the pitch he throws. Win or lose, he is a ferocious competitor and a fascinating thinker, and always worth […]