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Cal's Fastpitch Softball Stuff

Cal's Fastpitch Softball Stuff

Updated on June 30, 2020

I played fastpitch softball and baseball for 37 years.

I started playing fastpitch softball when I was 8 years-old in Deadwood, South Dakota. They didn’t play little league baseball but they had a fastpitch softball league where everyone from 8 to 13 years-old could play. When I was 8 years-old, I won a citywide Boy Scout longest softball throw competition and the manager of the best softball team selected me in the upcoming draft. A local Conoco gas station sponsored our team and we won the championship every year.

There were a few of us who were the same age and we played together from when we were 8 years-old until we graduated from high school. When we were 14 years-old and after we finished playing fastpitch softball, some coaches decided to form just one city-wide all-star baseball team comprised of my fastpitch softball teammates and players from the various teams who used to play fastpitch softball against us. We played American Legion baseball against teams from the surrounding towns for several years. When I used to play fastpitch softball, I played second base but when I started playing baseball, several other guys were trying out for second base too. I wasn't having a very good day and after having a few balls go between my legs, I chased a ball that had rolled all the way to the centerfield fence. I was so angry with myself that I picked up the ball and threw it from the centerfield fence to over the backstop. The coach immediately pointed to left field and said that was my new position.

When I was playing baseball, I hit my first home run which was also a walk off, grand slam home run. It was a scorching line drive that was just a few feet over the fence and a few feet inside the left foul pole and it ended the game. It wasn't until I was almost to second base that I realized that I had hit a home run and then I started jumping up and down while I was running. The next day at practice, some of the players ran the bases and imitated my running and jumping while everyone laughed at the best imitation. The local newspaper covered the game and mentioned that someone got a triple but failed to mention my game-ending grand slam. I never had much luck with small town newspaper reporters.

In the summer when I was in my teens, a couple of afternoons every week, I used to take a dozen baseballs with me and ride my bike to the football field where I would practice, by myself, throwing baseballs from one end zone to the fifty yard line and then to the other end zone. After my arm was warm, I would throw from one end zone to the other end zone. There were sometimes when I threw the baseball so high and far, that I fanaticized it might never come down.

I went out for football when I was a sophomore. We had football practice a few weeks before school began in the fall. The coaches really liked the fact that I always caught the ball regardless of the opposition. I had been practicing about 2 weeks and after one practice, I was riding in the back to the gym in the back of a pickup truck with about 6 or 8 other players. We were standing up and leaning against the wooden sideboard extensions. After stopping for a stop sign, the driver made a left turn, the wooden sideboard extensions broke and about 5 of us fell out into the street. I landed on several players but still managed to break a bone in my right hand. That pretty much ended the season for me.

When I was a senior, we got some new football coaches. One day at a preseason football practice, half of the team was in one end zone and the other half was in the other end zone. I was bored and I noticed a baseball in the grass near the wall at the back end of the end zone and I threw it from the back of one end zone to the back of the other end zone. I could see the coaches asking everyone if they knew who threw that ball. The next day the coaches gave me a tryout at quarterback. I didn't even get a chance to throw the stupid football because, for some reason that I never understood, the coaches didn't like the way I barked out the snap count. They said I was saying one "hut" louder than the other "huts". Nowadays, all the quarterbacks intentionally say it like that as a way to get the other team penalized for jumping offside. I guess I was just ahead of my time. After graduation from Deadwood High School, all the guys my age went back to playing in a men’s fastpitch softball league in Lead, South Dakota, which is just 3 miles away.

I graduated from high school in 1963 and, later that summer when I was 18, I moved to Denver, Colorado and drove an ambulance. In August 1964, I came back to South Dakota and attended Black Hills State University in Spearfish, South Dakota. In previous years, I used to try to throw over the backstop on any field where I played. In the fall of 1964, I joined the college baseball team. I hadn't played ball in over a year and my arm was out of shape. Nevertheless, I thought I was indestructible and so, before practice and before properly warming up, I again tried to throw over the backstop from the centerfield fence. I felt a strange numbness in my right arm. After that, I had a lot of pain when I tried to throw and just didn't have any strength in my arm. Even at a distance of only 60 feet, I had to put a lot of arc on the ball just to reach the guy I was warming up with and so I had to quit the team.

By the summer of 1965, my arm had healed to the point where I was able to play left field in a fastpitch league in Lead. I started to try to pitch fastpitch but I was so wild that no one would play catch with me so I had to throw against a wall. I moved back to Denver in the summer of 1966, played some more fastpitch, and worked on my pitching. In January 1967, when I was still 21, I joined the Air National Guard at Buckley Air Force Base in Denver in January 1967 and went to Lackland AFB in San Antonio, Texas in March 1967 for Air Force basic training. In May 1967, I transferred to Keesler AFB in Biloxi, Mississippi for an Air Traffic Control tech school. I pitched for an air base team until I graduated from my ATC tech school and moved back to Denver.

I pitched baseball and fastpitch softball in Denver from 1968 to 1970. I moved to Los Angeles in the spring of 1971 and began pitching baseball and fastpitch softball all over Southern California. I met Mike Smith in 1973 and he helped me with my fastpitch pitching. I was pitching fastpitch softball during the week and pitching baseball on Sundays. I had hurt my arm years earlier throwing overhand but my arm throwing underhand was still like new. Mike and I came to the conclusion that, since I loved to pitch and since my arm would only allow me to pitch baseball one day a week but my arm would allow me to pitch fastpitch softball 7 days a week, I should just dedicate myself to pitching fastpitch softball. Before I moved to California, I used to only play ball in the summer but I noticed a dramatic improvement when, in California, I was able to pitch in spring, summer, fall, and winter leagues. It seemed that pitching about 200 games a year without taking a break was the key to remembering and implementing all the little things that I learned from game to game. After a while, you begin to develop quicker flexibility in your wrist, like someone who plays the drums, and the ball began to break sharper and sharper. Nothing beats hours and hours of repetition!

One of my best friends, Al Rosales, who pitched baseball in college and who, along with Mike Smith, was playing fastpitch softball with the Glendale Mustangs, kept telling me that I needed some form of an off-speed pitch. In 1976, I fell off a ladder and broke my nose and a bone at the base of my right thumb. I used a serrated steak knife to cut back the cast so that I could hold a ball and began working on a knuckleball as an off-speed pitch. I threw against a wall at a racquetball court every day for 6 weeks and when the cast was finally removed, I immediately went back to the wall to see how the knuckleball worked without the cast. I was really disappointed. It just wasn't working as well as I had hoped and so I continued holding the ball with my fingers in various positions until suddenly—the ball went high and to the left and almost went over that 20-foot wall. The location was terrible but the speed was incredibly slow! After a few minutes, I had dialed it down to the point where I was consistently hitting the same spot on a strike zone that I had drawn on that wall. Incredible! I could throw the ball with a maximum effort but the ball didn't have enough speed to break a window pane. I had a good riseball and a screwball drop but now, I also had an incredible change of pace pitch that had a forward roll with a screwball rotation. If a batter only has to be concerned about two pitches—a rise and a drop—he has a good chance of guessing which pitch a pitcher will throw next. But, if a pitcher has a third pitch—an off-speed pitch—it makes the batter's job of guessing a lot more difficult. Instead of guessing correctly one-half of the time with just two pitches, the batter has to guess correctly a whole lot more than just one-third of the time because there are so many extra variables and combinations of pitches and different speeds to worry about. Some pitchers, like Eddie Feigner—the pitcher with the world famous "King and his Court"—say that they have about 15 different pitches but, once you understand the aerodynamics involved in ball rotation and that you can make the ball break any direction you want, you soon realize that the most effective pitches are the ones with the most amount of vertical break—a rise and a drop. Another thing; you only have a limited amount of pitches that you can work into the rotation of pitches you throw to each batter during his time at bat. A rise, drop, and change with a very rarely used, fourth surprise specialty pitch is all that you will ever need—or want!

When I started pitching in leagues again, some guys would come up to me after the game and ask, “Where do you get that incredible screwball change?” I explained to them that I was holding the ball with my first three fingers folded in so that I couldn’t put any finger speed on the ball. I was also holding my wrist cocked forward to hold the ball against the base of my wrist and that prevented me from adding any wrist speed to the ball. I was only holding onto the ball with just my little finger, thumb, and the base of my wrist and I had to grip the ball as tightly as I could just to keep it from falling out of my hand. My little finger was the last thing to make contact with the ball and that caused it to have a forward screwball rotation. A right-handed batter would first see the ball where I released it at my right thigh and then it would cross in front of my body over to my left side and rise to a point high over the batter's head and way outside the strike zone. It would then come back down toward the batter and finish with a screwball tail on it. I think most batters might have lost sight of the ball when it crossed in front of my body from my right side to my left side which was a very unnatural thing for a ball thrown by a right-handed pitcher to do. Most batters acted as though they thought the ball disappeared and then magically reappeared at the last second because the flight path of the ball was so disconnected from the path that a normal pitch would take. When the ball was released, it probably looked as though it would end up in the first base grandstands. I threw all my pitches, including the change, with a maximum effort. It’s impossible to overemphasize the fact that keeping the arm speed hard and fast all the way through the pitch is the key. If the batters can tell that your arm speed has slowed down—even in the slightest degree—they can adjust their swing. I grunted and threw it as hard as I could because that was the only way that the ball would ever have enough speed to make it all the way to the catcher. I had great control over it and always threw it for a strike because even the batters didn’t swing at it; I wanted it to be called a strike. Most guys were so confused that they didn't bother to swing even if they already had two strikes. It was really very funny! Some batters swung so hard that they fell down and a few batters even swung twice. Some batters violently pounded their bat on the ground and cursed when they swung and missed the pitch. My change was so good that I essentially had a free strike anytime I wanted to throw it. When I was warming up for a game, some of my teammates would step in to catch a few pitches while the catcher was adjusting his equipment. Just to have some fun, I would surprise them by throwing the change. It so confused some of them that they just held both of their hands in front of their face, ducked, and turned their body around because they had totally lost track of the ball. Everyone always said that they had never ever seen a change like that before and that it was the best change they had ever seen.

A riseball can rise more than two feet. When I threw my riseball, like most pitchers, I bent my index finger—called a knuckle rise—and threw it the same way that a baseball pitcher throws a curveball—only underhanded—and made sure that I got my fingertips under the bottom of the ball at the six o'clock position to make it rotate backwards and rise as much vertically as possible. I held my screwball drop with three fingers on the right hander’s seam and made sure that I got my hand over the top of the ball. Then I made sure that I got good fast rotation when I finally released the ball with just the very end of my fingertips. The top of the ball rotated forward with the top of the ball at the eleven o'clock position. That gave the ball a screwball tail and made the ball break down and in to a right-handed batter. I wanted the ball to break down as much as possible while still having a screwball tail at the end. Never aim the ball because it will stay too long on your fingertips and the rotation will slow down. At the release point, just concentrate on getting a good, fast roll and never worry about where it will finish in the strike zone. A fast rotation beats location every time.

Fastpitch pitching is just like baseball pitching only turned upside down. A four-seam rising fastball in baseball is called a drop ball when thrown underhand and a curve in baseball is called a riseball when thrown underhand. The fastest pitches are the full-roll drops in softball and the fastballs in baseball. The second fastest pitches are riseballs in softball and the curveballs in baseball. Curveballs are called "cut pitches" and are, by the nature of the release of the ball, a slower speed—about 5 mph slower. The slowest pitch of all is the change. My change was about half the speed of my other pitches but the batters were fooled by the speed of my arm in relation to the actual speed of the ball. Most batters really hate a change because it ruins their timing for other pitches. If the batter is waiting for the pitcher to throw a change, the rise and the drop will just blow right past him without giving him time to react. Unlike baseball, in fastpitch softball, because of the reduced distance and reaction time, you have to begin to swing at every pitch and then hold up at the last fraction of a second if you don't want to make contact with the ball.

For guys who thought that they knew me really well, I developed a fourth, surprise pitch that softball batters have never thrown to them. I used a riseball grip but, instead of spinning it backward, I turned the ball over and rotated it forward like a turn-over drop and pulled my fingers over the top of the ball, down and to the left. The ball broke down and away from a right-handed batter like a curveball in baseball.

A team comprised of a bunch of guys that I had played with for a number of years from the San Fernando Valley formed a team called the Glendale Mustangs. In 1977, they won the California State Tournament and finished tied for 5th place in the 1977 ISC World Tournament, which was held in Phoenix, Arizona that year. I wasn't good enough to go to the World Tournament with the Mustangs at that point in my development but, over the years, I pitched for the Mustangs in various leagues and tournaments.

The picture at the top of this article on our website was taken at our motel on the morning before I went with my two best friends, Mike Smith and Al Rosales, over to the big 1978 Fourth of July Tournament in Bishop, California to play with the Mustangs. We called ourselves "The Three Amigos." Any team that wanted me to pitch for them knew that I had to have 28, my favorite number, put on my jersey or I wouldn't play. I even had a personalized California license plate with "CAL 28" on it.

In 1978 and 1979, I pitched in the Pacific Coast League where my teams played Saturday night double-headers all over Southern California. One of my teams kept a lot of stats and one of the stats they kept was how many runners got on base for the other team and how many runs they scored. When one of our other pitchers was pitching, for every two batters who reached base, one of them scored. When another one of our pitchers was pitching, for every three batters who reached base, one of them scored. When I was pitching, for every four batters who reached base, only one of them scored. Some pitchers just cave in under the pressure of having runners on base but I never did. When your team members know that they can make a mistake without having the roof cave in and that you're still going to fight and win like a team and not blame any individual, that gives them more confidence and they play harder for you.

At the end of 1979, my father had a stroke and I moved back to Deadwood to help run the family business. The next spring in 1980, I joined a traveling team in Western South Dakota comprised of players who lived within a 100-mile radius of Rapid City. We played one night during the week in Rapid City, which was about 45 miles from Deadwood, and weekend tournaments all over South Dakota and Nebraska. My traveling team played in the first tournament that spring and I had to pitch every game because the other pitcher had an emergency on his ranch and couldn't play. I pitched all 8 games that weekend and we won the tournament.

An old friend from Lead asked me to help him with his pitching and he put me on his local team that played one night during the week in Lead. The plan was that I would play left field and he would pitch until he got into trouble and then I would relieve him. Our first game was against the previous year’s League Champions. Ricky Whalen and I played ball on all the same teams in my early years and his father was always at our games. Rick Whalen, Sr. was now married to the bookkeeper at our family store and every night when he came by our store to pick up his wife he would ask me questions about all the softball I pitched in Southern California. Naturally, he wanted to believe my stories but I didn't think he was ever really convinced that they were more than just stories. When I was in high school, his son was the star fastpitch softball and baseball pitcher, star basketball player, and star football player. Ricky received a full football scholarship to the University of Missouri. Mr. Whalen and his wife both came to the first game of the season and sat in the grandstands. My team played the second game that night and all the players from the first game stayed to see what was going to happen in our game against the league champs from last year. My friend struggled for the first 4 innings but the score was still tied. With bases loaded and nobody out in the fifth inning, he waved me in from left field to pitch and I struck out all three batters. The first time I threw my change, I gutted the batter but the umpire called it a ball and then he started to cuss at himself. He told the catcher that he blew the call because he’d never seen anything like that before. He said, “I made a mistake. Call time-out and go tell your pitcher to throw that damned thing again!” When I came out on the field to pitch the sixth inning, I had to laugh. Mr. Whalen had left his wife in the grandstands and had assumed his usual spot behind the backstop where he had stood so many years earlier so that he could be closer to the field and see the pitches better. I struck out all three batters in the sixth inning and the seventh inning. So, to summarize, I struck out nine straight batters, batted in two runs, scored a run, and we beat the champs!

The next evening when Mr. Whalen came to our store before it closed to pick up his wife, he was all wide-eyed and excited. He couldn't believe how fast I threw the ball and how much the ball moved. I had told him how much the riseball would go up but I could tell that he never really believed me until he saw it in person. The team we beat complained to the league administrators and, several days later, they informed our team that I was banned from the league as a pitcher for being too good. I had always wondered what it would be like to pitch on the same field where I had played 15 years earlier.

Several months later at the end of the summer, the local guys from Lead and Deadwood put together an all-star team so that they could play in a big tournament in Western South Dakota where teams from all over competed for prize money. When they asked me if I would pitch for them—I just laughed. As luck would have it, the very first game played in the tournament was on Saturday morning and my traveling team was scheduled to play against the all-star team from Lead and Deadwood. I told my team that I needed to pitch against those guys. We gave them a good spanking. Unfortunately, I didn't strike all of them out but I do remember that I shut them out. That was very satisfying.

In the spring of 1981, I moved back to Southern California and continued pitching 5 times a week. I pitched in city league games during the week and, on the weekends, I pitched for some traveling teams that played Saturday night double-headers all over Los Angeles, San Bernardino, and Riverside counties. I continued to improve every year and, in 1984, rather than just take a normal stride off the pitching rubber, I started “jumping" off the pitching rubber. On a radar gun, this added another 10 mph to my speed—a dramatic improvement. After I started jumping, my riseball flattened out a little and then it came back even better than before. For some strange reason, my change got a whole lot better too. My screwball drop started dropping like something falling off of a table. I remember one pitch I threw to a left-handed batter for the third strike. I threw the ball down the middle of the plate. It rose from the release point at my right thigh up to the batter’s shoulders and then dropped so much that the catcher caught it just above the ground. About the time the ball dropped below the batter’s waist, it screwballed to the right about 15 to 18 inches. The batter took a big swing as he tried to reach for the ball which was now almost in the dirt and a foot wide of the strike zone. He couldn’t have hit the ball with a boat paddle. He said, “Oh, nice pitch!” I thought to myself, “You’re right, that was a nice pitch!”

In 1985, one of my traveling teams entered a big Fourth of July Tournament in Prescott, Arizona. We were still in the winner's bracket when we played a Saturday night game against a team from Phoenix, Arizona. The grandstands were packed full and naturally, all the local Arizona people were cheering for the Arizona team. When their pitcher came to bat, the announcer introduced him with great fanfare, "And here he is, Mister Arizona Softball, Jerry Wells" and the crowd went nuts. Jerry Wells was voted the "Most Valuable Player" in three different World Tournaments and was a great batter. On his way to home plate, he stopped, took off his cap, and waved to all the fans. He made a big production of just stepping into the batter's box and finally, he was ready. My catcher signaled for the riseball and I nodded my head. I always told my catchers that I would throw the change without shaking off their sign because the ball was going so slow that they could easily catch it and so that the batter wouldn't know or be able to guess that the pitch had been changed. I gutted him with the first change and he just took it. He stepped out of the batter's box, turned to the crowd, laughed, and held his hands about three feet apart to indicate that the ball looked as big as a beach ball. I knew that, by his over-acting, he was just trying to talk me out of throwing another change. After he slowly entered the batter's box again, my catcher signaled for the screwball drop and I gutted him with the change again. This time he stepped out of the batter's box, leaned over his bat, and just stared at the ground for a minute—no more smiles. Now he dropped all the Hollywood stuff and stepped into the batter's box like a normal player. My catcher called for another screwball drop but I gutted him the change again. This time he had to swing or be called out. To his credit, he just barely fouled it off and then he pointed his bat at me and started cussing at me. I threw him the fourth change and he barely fouled it off. I threw him the fifth change and he barely fouled it off. I threw him the sixth change and he barely fouled it off. I threw him the seventh change and he just barely hit a weak, little pop-up to the shortstop who had to come in to make the catch. His team just seemed to roll over after that and we won the game. Seven changes in a row to one batter is my personal record.

In the spring of 1984, the Head Coach of the Women's Fastpitch Softball Team at Chaffey College in Rancho Cucamonga, California saw me pitching in a game and asked me if I would help with the pitchers. In December of 1984, Chaffey College asked me to be the Head Coach of their Women’s Fastpitch Softball Team for the 1985 season. Because I was hired just a few weeks before the start of the season, I didn't have a chance to recruit any players and ended the season with 2 wins and 22 losses but at least we finished the season which was more than the previous coach had been able to do in the last three years—ridiculous—totally ridiculous! In 1986, we had a record of 26 wins and 5 losses and we won the first Conference Championship ever in the history of Chaffey College and qualified for the state tournament. We finished tied for fifth in the state tournament and, out of 70 colleges, were ranked in the top 10 in the state two years in a row. I also had the pleasure of meeting with Bob Devaney, the Athletic Director at the University of Nebraska, to discuss coaching Nebraska's Women's Fastpitch Softball team.

When I was coaching at Chaffey College, I had the pleasure of coaching some really special players. Jackie Taylor was my shortstop and the only ray of sunshine on my 1985 team. She was my #4 batter and the leader of our 1986 Championship team. Jackie was an excellent softball player and could have played any position but, for her second year, she requested to be our catcher. Jackie also was an excellent volleyball player. She was named "Female Athlete of the Year" at Chaffey College in 1986. I was always amazed at how much energy and enthusiasm she had and how many things she could do at the same time. Jennifer Biallas was my leadoff batter, second baseman, and the spark of our offense. Jennifer played for me in the 1986 and 1987 seasons. Over her career at Chaffey College, Jennifer's batting average was over .400. She stole more than 60 bases and was only caught once. Sonja Washington was my #2 batter, left fielder, and a real speedster. Sandy Ortiz was my #3 batter, centerfielder, and had a tremendous arm. Tracy Medina was my #5 batter, shortstop, and also had a tremendous arm. Celeste Heathcock, my ace pitcher, was the #2 pitcher at Fontana High School. She decided to come to Chaffey College in 1986. Celeste had an ERA (earned run average) of 0.44 over the course of the 1986 season. The #1 pitcher at Fontana High School decided to go to Riverside City College where, as it turned out, she wasn't good enough to pitch and so she played outfield. Dick Bruich was the head football coach at Fontana High School and also the head softball coach. Dick didn't know very much about softball and even less about softball pitching. Celeste came to Chaffey to workout in the summer before classes started that fall and, in just one afternoon, I taught Celeste how to throw an unhittable, screwball drop. During the season, we beat Riverside City College every time we played them. Dick Bruich had an all-star pitcher hidden right under his nose but he was too stupid to know it.

In baseball, a good ERA is three runs per game or a 3.00. In fastpitch softball, a good ERA is one run per game or a 1.00. Sometimes, one run is all it takes to win the game. Celeste Heathcock's ERA for the whole year was just 0.44 which meant that the opposing team earned less than one-half of a run per game. A pitcher is 50 percent of the defense and the rest of the team is the other 50 percent. If your pitcher's ERA is 1.00 and your team is consistently giving up over 2 runs per game, the rest of your team's defense is not doing its job.

Jennifer's on-base percentage was over .800 or 80 percent and when Jennifer led off the inning by somehow getting on base, we scored 99 percent of the time. When she got to first base, our #2 batter, Sonja Washington, had the thankless job of taking a few pitches to allow Jennifer a chance to steal second base and then would bunt her over to third from where we had at least two chances of getting her home. Sometimes Sonja would bunt so well that she would be safe at first instead of just sacrificing herself for the good of the team. If Jennifer was on third base, I had our #3 batter, Sandy Ortiz, bunt which put pressure on the other team's defense because if they didn't handle that bunt well, Jennifer might score or Sandy might be safe and we might have runners at first and third. If we had runners at first and third, then, with our #4 batter, Jackie Taylor, at bat, we would execute a "first and third" play where Sandy, at first base, would slowly attempt to steal second base in order cause the other team throw the ball to second base and give Jennifer a chance to steal home. Sandy knew that the only mistake she could make was to get tagged out at second base by the other team's second baseman or shortstop. When the other team threw the ball to second base, Sandy would stop and slowly return to first base while Jennifer would continually look for an opportunity to steal home. When the other team's second baseman threw the ball to their first baseman to get Sandy, as soon as Jennifer saw daylight between the second baseman's hand and the ball—on that exchange of the ball between the second baseman and the first baseman—Jennifer would steal home. Since most first basemen throw left-handed, it's a difficult pivot play for them to throw to the catcher after catching the ball from the second baseman. While the first baseman was throwing the ball to the catcher to get Jennifer, Sandy might be able to steal second base. If that whole scenario failed to advance Jennifer from third to home or Sandy from first to second at least the batter would usually have a one ball and no strike count, and we would do the same thing over again. The only mistakes the other team could make would be to walk Jackie at the plate, allow Sandy at first to steal second, or allow Jennifer to steal home. If the other team allowed Sandy to steal second and we ended up with runners at second and third, we could have Jackie bunt or swing away. If we had Jackie bunt, the other team was again so concerned about the speed of Jennifer at third, that they might make a mistake handling the bunt, Jackie would be safe, Jennifer might score, or the bases would be loaded. If the bases were loaded, then my #5 batter, Tracy Medina would come to the plate and hit a scorching line drive. Sometimes we would score 3 or 4 runs in the first inning and never do anything more than bunt the ball or get walked. If it's properly executed, "small ball" can turn into a very large inning! Even against the best pitchers in the world, the chances of bunting the ball are about 100% whereas the chances of swinging and hitting the ball are much less. The effectiveness of the "first and third" play was that it relied on bunting the ball rather than swinging at the ball. Even at the World Championship level of men's fastpitch softball, the "first and third" play is incredibly effective. With a fast runner on third base, they usually just allow the runner on first to jog to second base without making a play! I never understood why, at the college level, they didn't use that play very much but I used it every time I had the chance.

I was a disciple of the Vince Lombardi school of coaching. When Vince Lombardi was the football coach of the World Champion Green Bay Packers, they continually ran the "Packer sweep" to the right and to the left and even if the other team knew it was going to be the next play, they couldn’t stop it because the Packers executed it so well. Everyone who played the Packers knew that they would see the Packer sweep many times during the game but they couldn't stop it. You don't need fancy plays. You just need to execute your plays to perfection.

One day in Long Beach, California, we were beating Long Beach City College by a large score. It was late in the game and as usual, Jennifer had started the inning with a single. I was in the third base coaching box just shooting the breeze with the other team's manager because the game was essentially over and Jennifer looked to me for the steal sign. Instead of giving any sign, I just shook my head to signal, no. The other manager saw me do that and said, "Why don't you let her run?" I said, "No, we don't do that (we don't steal bases with a big lead in the late innings) but, the coach said, "Oh, what the heck. Let's just have some fun!" Without giving any signs, I just yelled at Jennifer, so that everyone in the whole stadium could hear, "You're running on this pitch" and the other manager yelled to her catcher and pitcher, "She's running on this pitch!" Naturally, Jennifer easily stole the base. Incidentally, Jennifer got a full-ride scholarship to Nebraska and got to play for some great teams that almost won the NCAA National Championship.

Tracy Medina, our shortstop, was an excellent batter and had an absolute gun for an arm. I remember talking to one of the big baseball players at Chaffey College one day and he said, "I see you have Tracy Medina playing for you. I remember when I was playing Little League baseball and Tracy was pitching against us. She threw really hard. One time she accidentally hit me with the ball and I cried all the way home."

At Chaffey College, some of the male baseball players would occasionally come over to visit the women to see how they were doing—among other things. I was pitching some batting practice one day, instead of using the pitching machine, and I asked the guys if they thought they were man enough to hit a softball. A few of them took the challenge and grabbed a bat. I pumped up the speed, threw them a steady diet of riseballs, and they never even fouled one off. Needless to say, they were a little embarrassed.

Someone told me that they overheard the coach at Riverside City College talking to the coach at the University of California at Riverside and they were bemoaning the fact that they didn't get the players that they wanted for the 1987 season. One coach said to the other, "Nikont got all of them. What's he going to do with 4 pitchers, 5 shortstops, and 3 centerfielders?" Those coaches were so stupid that they thought you had to recruit first basemen and right fielders. I recruited the top athletes and then found a place for them to play. To top it off, we played the University of California at Riverside in a 9-inning practice game. They used their best pitcher for the entire game. I used 4 pitchers and we beat them. A two-year College team is not supposed to ever beat a 4-year University team with scholarship players. I tried to schedule some more practice games with other 4-year universities but, after that, no 4-year university would play us because it would be too embarrassing for them to lose to us.

After so many years of throwing a ball, I could do anything with the ball. I developed the ability to throw the ball behind my back from home plate to centerfield and was deadly accurate. When one of the ladies on my Chaffey College team was daydreaming in the outfield while I was pitching batting practice, I would throw the ball behind my back really high in the air and have the ball drop out of the sky close to where she was standing. It was really funny to see her be so shocked when the ball hit the ground next to her even though the rest of the team yelled and tried to warn her. Because the ball was up so high in the air, she didn’t know why they were yelling at her. I could throw a riseball at half speed and I could throw a riseball behind my back. Lots of right-handed people can throw a ball over their left shoulder but it takes some practice to be able to throw a ball over your right shoulder. I could throw a ball over my right shoulder from the pitching rubber to home plate. I could throw an empty coke can into a trash can from 15 feet away over my right shoulder. I would throw a few cans at a trash can and intentionally miss to the right. Then I would say that I knew what the problem was. I was standing too close to the trash can and then I would back up a few feet. Then I would ask if anyone wanted to bet $1 against me making the next throw. The coke can almost always went into the trash can!  

My dentist had a young daughter and he asked me to come to the very first softball draft in his area where teams were going to be created to play in a fastpitch softball league. He and I pulled up a couple of lawn chairs and we watched all the girls run through drills on a practice field for several hours. I graded all the players according to age and ability and he used my notes and recommendations when he made up his list for the draft. As it turned out, we did a little too well and his team never lost a game. They won by such lopsided scores that the other teams complained. The league decided that they had to completely start over the next year by breaking up the teams starting from scratch with a new draft. I always had an eye for talent and for figuring out which players should play which position.

Fastpitch softball is a faster and more exciting game than baseball. When I watch a baseball game, I generally fall asleep by the second inning. It just bores me—it's too slow. The best physical years of most baseball players are from 20 to 28 years-old. The problem is that the best mental years of most baseball players are after they become 28 years-old. Most young baseball players don't really understand the game. Because they're so inexperienced, young baseball players make too many silly mental mistakes on offense and defense. They're too young and dumb and the teams practically have to have an older, more experienced coach for each player to do his thinking for him. Once a baseball player finally gets smart enough to think for himself, he has lost some of the overall speed necessary to play on a larger field with more distance between the bases and a new young and dumb kid is ready to take his place. In fastpitch softball, because the distance between bases is shorter and the field is smaller, quickness is more important than overall speed. The best years of a fastpitch player are from 28 to 45 years-old because they still have their quickness and are mentally very smart. There really isn't much difference between the physical skills of a major league baseball player and a minor league baseball player at the AAA level. Most baseball players who don't become major league stars by the time they're in their late twenties have to quit playing baseball, return home, and get a job that pays better than playing minor league baseball. That's exactly the point that their hometown friends invite them to come out and play fastpitch softball. It generally takes a baseball player about a year or two to learn how to hit a fastpitch softball at the higher levels. If they have the patience to struggle through those early years of being embarrassed by being struck out all the time, they will probably turn into a good fastpitch player.

Some of the teams who qualify to play fastpitch World Tournaments have major sponsors and can afford to pay their pitchers $50,000/year or give them an easy job. In order to keep the players from easily changing teams, the top leagues require the players to sign contracts with their teams for the entire season. If a player quits his team, he cannot play for another team in that league. On rare occasions, trades are negotiated with the consent of all parties. The players are paid cash under the table and the pay is negotiable for each player. When I pitched in the Pacific Coast League in 1978 and 1979, the usual minimum fee for an ordinary, single game was $20 and more per game if you signed a contract for the entire season. Travel to big weekend tournaments usually involved motel and gas money. Hey, we were still governed by the rules of the "Amateur" Softball Association, weren't we?

When the Lakewood Jets won the 1973 ISC World Tournament, they had two great pitchers who were voted to the All-World Team. Ed Klecker, a really big guy (6'6" and 260 pounds), lived near Lakewood, California but the other pitcher, K.G. Fincher who was also big (6'7" and 230 pounds and definitely "cagey" like his initials) lived near Santa Rosa, California which is north of San Francisco and over 400 miles from Lakewood. Every weekend, the Lakewood Jets paid him to fly down to Southern California for league doubleheaders, paid for his food and motel, and paid to fly him back home. The winner of the league got an automatic berth to the World Tournament. After the Lakewood Jets won the World Tournament, the ISC officials instituted a new rule that said all players must live within 100 miles of their team. Lanny Rupp was the manager of the Lakewood Jets. He was the greatest manager I ever saw and he taught me a lot about coaching. I was proud to be his friend.

Of all the sports, baseball and fastpitch softball have the greatest athletes because these sports incorporate the three most difficult coordination skills; throwing a ball, hitting a ball, and catching a ball. YouTube has some videos that show the difficulty of hitting a baseball versus a fastpitch softball. Baseball batters hold their hands too low and are an easy out. I used to jump off the pitching rubber just like Adam Folkard in his videos. The men throw faster than the women and the men have to throw from a longer distance—46 feet for men and 43 feet for women.

Jennie Finch - Sports Science

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_de3HJvO-N8

Michele Smith vs. John Kruk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RT9ntDaFu1M&feature=related

Dean Holoien - 2004 ISC World Tournament - First Out

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTTvjN8Ijw0

Adam Folkard – Slow Speed

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Q3T2F4qVyg

Analysis of the pitching technique of Adam Folkard

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJqRZVL3fmY

Adam Folkard - 84 mph

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHa9BqGnBy8

Adam Folkard currently holds the men’s world’s record for fastpitch softball pitching at 88 mph and the women’s record for fastpitch softball pitching is 75 mph. A speed of 88 mph from 46 feet is way, way faster (less elapsed time) than a 100 mph baseball from 60 feet 6 inches. A fastpitch softball thrown at 75 mph from 46 feet is the equivalent speed of a baseball thrown at 100 mph and a fastpitch softball thrown at 88 mph from 46 feet is the equivalent speed of a baseball thrown at 117 mph. A baseball is also easier to hit because it only goes down and never up. In baseball, there is no such thing as a riseball raising from the batter's knees and finishing over the batter's shoulders.

In 1988, when I was 43 years old, Rhonda Wheatley had just graduated from college (Cal Poly Pomona; 1984 –1987) and she wanted to pitch for a men's fastpitch softball team in a Chino, California city league. At that time, Rhonda Wheatley held the NCAA college record for the most wins and the most strikeouts. In this league, she didn't have the success that she may have anticipated. In comparison to the women batters in college, the male batters in this men's league were older, more experienced, and, because of the longer men's pitching distance, they had a little more time to react to her pitches. When my team played her team, we lit her up like a pinball machine. I hit a couple of line-drives off of her but when she came to bat; I struck her out every time. She was clearly way in over her head and she dropped out of the league after a few more losses. While pitching against another team in that league, I struck out 17 of the 21 batters in one game. Being able to throw the ball down the middle of the plate and have it break so much that nobody can hit it, is a great feeling.

My last years of pitching were also my best. When I look at some home movies of me pitching in 1980, it’s like going back to the Dark Ages. I just wish I had some more recent videos of me pitching when I was jumping off the pitching rubber and everything was really cooking. I was gifted with an almost perfect overhand throwing motion and was able to perfect it early in my life. I was not blessed with a perfect throwing motion underhand and I struggled with perfecting the motion my whole life. I was not a natural but I kept improving every year as I learned how to implement better weight transfer, hip rotation, timing, and rhythm into my pitching. I constantly studied all of the great pitchers and it wasn’t until I started jumping that I was able to almost perfect it but by then it was time to retire. Outside of America, in countries like Canada, Australia, and New Zealand, the boys have great coaching and play fastpitch softball in high school. Consequently, they develop pitchers faster than we do in America and there are foreign pitchers who are world class in their twenties. In America, most pitchers begin like I did and start pitching in their twenties. They don't become world class until they are in their thirties or forties. There is a shortage of world-class pitchers in America and that is why so many pitchers are brought to America from Canada, Australia, and New Zealand.

In 1990, I was 45 years old and had played ball for 37 years. I pitched over 4,000 games, struck out thousands and thousands of batters, and won over 90% of my games. Some of my friends used to call me "Popeye" after the fictional cartoon character because my right forearm was so big after pitching so many games. I was fortunate enough to have played with and against some of the best players in the world. I decided that since I like to take a drive when I want to relax and I like to travel and see new places, I would enjoy driving a big truck all over America. I had never seen the inside of a big truck until I was hired by J.B. Hunt and arrived at their driving school in 1990. Instead of paying the usual $5,000 driving school fee, their driving school was free if I stayed with them for one year. I drove for them in order to learn the trucking business and then started my own trucking company. I formed my corporation, received my operating authority, purchased a new tractor and trailer, and began operating as "CAL NIKONT ENTERPRISES, Inc." My website is http://calnikont.com/

As you probably know, even at the men’s championship level, softball is a 7-inning game and so there are only 21 outs. A pitcher is said to have dominated the game if he strikes out 10 or more batters in a game and he should win that game. The most batters I ever struck out in one game was 17 and I did that on five occasions. One night, I really felt as though I could have struck out all 21 batters in the game because I started the game with 10 strikeouts. But then, because we had a big lead, the rest of my team started complaining that they weren’t getting any action. So, I had to ease up and let the other team hit the ball but I still made them hit the ball where I wanted them to hit the ball. In the course of my career, I had a whole bunch of no-hitters and a few perfect games. I had great control and very rarely ever walked a batter. I usually never knew how many strikeouts I had or if I had pitched a no-hitter until the scorekeeper mentioned it after the game because I was just trying to win the game. I could generally tell if I was pitching a no-hitter or a perfect game because, in the last inning, none of my teammates would sit next to me, look at me, or talk to me.

If you want to be successful as a pitcher, you need to be in shape. I used to run five miles every day so that my legs—my pitching platform—were strong and didn't get tired. When my left leg hit the ground it didn't wobble in the later innings. If a pitcher's legs were to get tired, that would cause the location of his pitches to vary and if the location were to vary, he might give up more hits and walk some batters. If the game went into extra innings, I had the confidence in knowing that I was in better condition than the opposing pitcher and the longer the game went, the better my chances of winning and greater the level of my confidence became because I knew I put in the extra work. The Green Bay Packers won numerous football World Championships and their Hall of Fame coach, Vince Lombardi, continually repeated this truism: "Fatigue makes cowards of us all."

Some pitchers that I knew used to get to the game late, throw a few warm-up pitches, give up a run in the first inning, and then lose the game. They got angry with everyone except themselves. I used to take a shower at home and stretch out for an hour before I got dressed and left early for the game. I got to the field early, ran in the outfield to warm up, and then stretched some more. I pitched slowly to the first player who showed up before the game started and then when the game was close to starting, I pitched to my catcher. I pitched hard on the sidelines and broke a good sweat so that when the game started, I was already in my third inning and breathing fire. Because I ran 5 miles a day, I didn't have to worry about running out of gas. Even on a hot summer day, I still wore my jacket between innings so that my arm and back muscles stayed warm. My uniform top was generally soaking wet and I had to wipe off the back of my right hand and forearm on my sock behind my right calf because that was the only part of me that was still halfway dry. I still remember a girl giving me a hug right after winning a big game on a hot and humid summer night. She didn't realize just how soaking wet I would be. She quickly jerked away and let out one of those girly, high-pitched "Eeewwww" sounds. That was just way too funny!!!

Young players lose a lot of games that they should have won just by being stupid. The secret to easily winning against players with superior athletic abilities is to never walk a batter, don't make mistakes, control the tempo of the game, and give the other team every opportunity to make mistakes and lose the game. If your team hits 21 fly balls, you only give the other team 21 chances to make a mistake but, if your team hits 21 ground balls, you give the other team 63 chances to make a mistake—they have to field the ball, throw the ball, and catch the ball. Never swing 3 and 0; give the pitcher a chance to walk you. Base runners make for added pressure and base runners plus added pressure combine to make more chances for mistakes and all this adds up to more runs being scored. You need to learn how to “work the count” so that you get a walk or run the count out to 2 and 1 or 3 and 1 and get to "sit on a pitch"—to look for a certain pitch in a certain spot. Don't swing at pitches on the corner unless you have to because that just serves to tell the pitcher what pitch you can't hit and you will probably just ground out anyway. While you're sitting on the bench, pay special attention to what pitch the pitcher throws when he's in trouble or when the count is 3 and 1. Chances are, that will be the pitch you'll get to sit on. The pitcher is in charge of the tempo of the game. When you're ahead, you can keep the tempo at a pace that is best for you but when you get a man on base, you need to slow the tempo way down and let the other team get over-anxious and make mistakes. I could be a human rain delay. I would shake off a lot of signs only to come back to the first sign shown, take off my cap and glasses to wipe the sweat away, check my shoelaces, or call the catcher out for a meeting. When I was at Chaffey College, I learned that I could control the tempo of the game from the third base coaching box. If the opposing pitcher was in a groove, I could slow down the tempo and ruin her rhythm by having our batters step out of the batter's box on every pitch while I went through a bunch of worthless signs. This caused the other pitcher to get upset and make mistakes. This affected her whole team.

One thing all pitchers need to remember is that the first batter in an inning is very important. If you get the first batter out, half of the inning is over—not just one-third as you might expect. If the first batter in an inning gets on base, the other team has an excellent chance of scoring. The classic offense is to have the first batter get on base, the second batter lays down a sacrifice bunt to move the first batter to second base, and then, with one out, the next two batters try to get a hit to score the runner from second base. The cardinal sin for any pitcher is to walk the leadoff batter. A cardinal sin for any base runner is to make the first or third out at third base.

To be a winning pitcher you need to have movement on the ball. Of the three components to a pitch; speed, location, and rotation; rotation or movement of the ball is the most important part. Even if you make a mistake and throw the pitch right down the middle of the plate, if the ball has enough movement, the batter won't be able to make good contact.

Jack Van Voorst was a good friend and he and his old buddy, Gil Aragon, used to pitch for Page's Raiders out of Sun City, Arizona when Page's Raiders won the 1974 ISC World Tournament. Jack and Gil were voted to the 1974 ISC All-World Team. Gil was voted to ISC All-World Teams in 1971, 1973, 1974, and 1975. He was named ISC’s Most Valuable Player in the 1971 ISC World Tournament. Gil was inducted into the International Softball Congress (ISC) Hall of Fame in 1992. In 1977, Jack was living and pitching in Southern California and he and I were sitting in the grandstands on the third base side just resting between games and watching one of the many tournament games at Mayfair Park in Lakewood, California that weekend. Gil was pitching for a team from Arizona and his team was in the first base dugout. Gil got all three out in the first inning but Jack mentioned to me that Gil had better be careful with the #4 batter due to bat first in the next inning because he was a great riseball hitter. I asked Jack if he thought that Gil knew that and he said he wasn't sure so I said, "Let's go tell him" and Jack and I walked all the way over to Gil's dugout. Jack told Gil that the first batter was a great riseball hitter and that he should pitch very carefully to him. Gil was glad to see his buddy and he thanked him. So, Gil went back out to pitch and the first pitch he threw the batter was a riseball that the batter promptly hit over the fence for a home run. At the end of that inning, when Gil came back to the dugout, Jack grinned and gave his buddy the open mouth "what were you thinking" look and Gil just laughed and shrugged his shoulders. Jack and Gil were really fun guys that you just had to like. In all fairness to Gil, who was a really smart pitcher, and like other pitchers with a really great riseball, maybe he just thought that the batter couldn't hit "his" riseball.

Most pitchers have a change that just comes straight at you like a slow drop. Ed Bentley, who was a 1972 ISC All-World Pitcher with the Burbank Comets, had the change that everyone copied because it was easy to learn, looked exactly like a drop, and he could just tie anyone in knots. But Gil Aragon had the most amazing change I ever saw. It would just take your breath away! He turned his right hand over and the ball somehow came out of the back of his hand. Gil's change was just the opposite of my change. From a right-handed batter's point of view, Gil's change was released near his right thigh, rose up high over the batter's head and way inside like it was coming from third base. Just like Gil’s change, my change was released near my right thigh but then it crossed my body to my left side, rose up high over the batter's head and way outside like it was coming from first base, and finished with a screwball tail. Some guys still tell me that my change was the best change they ever saw. I remember one tournament game against a bunch of guys who I had known for a number of years. Just to prove a point; I looked right at their bench at the beginning of the game and told them that I wasn’t going to throw them anything but a change because they were a bunch of sissies who should be playing slowpitch softball. I threw them nothing but a change for the first three innings and they never got a hit. Remember this: Slowpitch is a game for everyone but fastpitch is a game for athletes!

Vic Munoz was the dumbest big-time catcher I ever knew. When a dumb catcher like Vic Munoz was paired with a dumb pitcher like John Henderson, that was the dumbest combination I ever saw. Larry Swartzendruber, another great pitcher, and I were standing behind the backstop and were amazed at what we were seeing. In the first game of a double-header, Roger Teske, a good friend and a smart, world-class pitcher, wouldn't put up with the stupid pitches that Vic Munoz was calling and continually shook off the signs. Finally, Roger called a time-out and he and Vic had a long conversation at the pitching rubber. Vic should have called for the pitch that he and Roger had already discussed but instead, he still called for the wrong pitch, Roger just shook his head and took a long stroll behind the pitching rubber. Roger won the game but no thanks to Vic Munoz. John Henderson pitched the second game and he never shook off a single pitch that Vic Munoz called. When one hitter, in particular, came up to bat, John Henderson made him look bad with two drops. Then he threw him a knee-high riseball and he hit a line drive double. The next time that same batter came to bat, John Henderson made him look bad with two drops and then he threw him a knee-high riseball and he hit a line drive double. Larry and I just looked at each other in utter disbelief. John Henderson lost that game just as he should have. Stupid—just way too stupid!

I pitched in a Sunday morning league in East LA at Evergreen Park on the corner of 4th and Evergreen in 1974 and 1975 where I learned to love the Menudo soup that the player's wives served after the game. Because Evergreen Park only had two fields, starting in 1976, the better players, for miles around, began playing in Watts at Hoover Park on the corner of Manchester and Hoover just west of the Harbor Freeway. Hoover Park was large enough that four fast-pitch games could be played at the same time on softball fields located at all four corners of the park. All of the games started at 10 am and then after the games, most of us gathered around under some trees on the first base side of the softball field located on the northwest corner of the park. An enterprising man, with the help of his teenage children, sold barbecued chicken, hot links, ribs, and a variety of cold drinks to wash it all down. Most of the guys stayed around for a while and discussed what happened at the games on the other diamonds. The best part was all the joking and storytelling. Ballplayers, fans, and old-timers all joined in to have a good time. It was great!

One older gentleman (I have since forgotten his name) always used to come to the games dressed in a suit. I guessed that he was stopping by after church. He would stand behind the backstop and watch whatever game was being played on the northwest diamond with some of his older friends and then stay for the storytelling afterward. I looked forward to the times when he would show up. I enjoyed kidding with him and listening to his stories.

One time he told me a funny little story about a .45-52 Zulu gun. I couldn’t remember the whole thing. I would try to repeat it but couldn't remember all the little parts of it and begged for him to help me with a word or two but he would never give me any help. The next time I saw him, I would pester him to tell me again about the .45-52 Zulu gun. It would just drive me nuts because he would only tell it one time and then that would be it. He would always say, “I’ll tell it to you again the next time I see you.”

Sometimes, I wouldn't see him for months at a time and I used to worry that I might never see him again. I put a small cassette tape recorder in a zip-lock bag to keep out the dust and began to always carry it in my game bag.

Finally, in 1982, I saw him for the last time and this time I told him that I wasn’t going to let him go without him telling me about the .45-52 Zulu Gun. I showed him the tape recorder and told him that I had a C-90 cassette.

After some barbecue, he said, “Let’s take a walk.” I let him do all the talking as we walked away from all the others and continued walking down the left field line toward the other diamond on the northeast corner of the park which was almost deserted. I sensed that he just wanted to talk. He talked about his life and an assortment of topics. We quit walking and sat in the stands at the other diamond and just talked about ball playing and life in general.  

When the first side of the tape ran out, I flipped it over to the other side. We talked for a while longer and then he said, “Before your tape runs out, I’d better tell you about the .45-52 Zulu gun.” We started walking back to join the others when he began to tell the story and, as any good storyteller would do, he took his time.

He spoke slowly with his gravelly voice: "I want to tell you about the .45-52 Zulu gun. It's the most amazing gun you'll ever see. You'd have to see it to believe it. It's the .45-52 Zulu gun built upon an automatic frame. It'll shoot nine times before you can cock it and ten times before you can stop it. If you hold it on the left it says, "If you hold me square, I'll shoot him fair." If you hold it on the right it says, "If you hold me level, I'll shoot the Devil." Then he moved his old, bony hand back and forth past my ear in a snake-like fashion when he said, "It shoots the bewitching cannonball. If it goes by and misses you, it'll back right up and hit you. Don't allow you no chance at all!"

He was a real gentleman and I miss him.

While playing in that same Sunday morning league in Watts, I pitched a number of games against another pitcher nicknamed "Straw" and one or more of his three sons would occasionally play with his team. Michael was the oldest son, Ronnie was one year younger, and Darryl was the youngest. Darryl Strawberry was drafted first overall in the 1980 Major League Baseball Draft by the New York Mets and Darryl's older brother, Michael, was also selected in that draft, going to the Los Angeles Dodgers in the 31st round.

During his 17-year career, Darryl Strawberry helped the New York Mets to a World Series Championship in 1986. He played for the Los Angeles Dodgers and the San Francisco Giants before helping the New York Yankees to three World Series Championships in 1996, 1998, and 1999. Darryl Strawberry was voted to the All-Star Game eight straight times from 1984 to 1991.

In 1981, Straw put together a team comprised of assorted fastpitch players from the Sunday morning Watts league who, ostensibly, were Post Office employees and chartered a big bus to take about 50 people—ballplayers, wives, girlfriends, fans, and me—on a trip to San Francisco for a big Post Office fastpitch softball tournament. The tournament officials provided two new, very slippery, lacquer-finished softballs for every game. Those softballs were only meant to be used for slowpitch softball and have since been discontinued and replaced with naturally finished softballs. Since I always had a little dab of sticky stuff called "Firm Grip" hidden in the corner of my glove, a slippery softball didn't bother me in the least and I won the first game that Saturday morning. When Straw went out to pitch his game, that slippery softball was like a wet bar of soap and the first few pitches he threw went everywhere except in the catcher's glove. He looked over at our dugout and had a pathetic, "What the heck can I do?" look on his face. I had to have some compassion for my teammate so I yelled, "Straw, if your glove is broken, you can use mine." I called timeout, walked out on the field to give Straw my glove, and discretely pointed at the small, clear dab of rosin paste hidden in the corner of my glove. At the end of the inning when he came back to our dugout, his eyes were filled with wonderment and he had a big smile on his face. I asked him to keep our little secret just between the two of us so that none of the other players in the Watts league would find out and tell the umpires. He always kept his word.

While we were in San Francisco, a big group of us went over to one of their friend's home where I was introduced to the worst music I had ever heard. It was called "Rap" music only there wasn't any music to it.

While I'm still thinking about a slippery ball, I always made it a point to tell the players on my teams to not put a lot of oil on their gloves before the season started because the oil rubbed off on the ball and made the ball slippery. I've owned a number of the very best baseball gloves. I still have a glove that I have owned since the late 1960s, some more that I have owned since the 1970s, and a new glove that I haven't even broken in yet. I only slightly oiled any of the gloves after I bought them and then the only thing that I have done since is to relace them several times.

Here are a few tips about wearing a baseball glove: Ever since I switched from playing fastpitch softball to playing baseball when I was 14-years-old, I put my little finger and my ring finger in the little finger slot, put my middle finger into the ring finger slot, and put my index finger on the outside of my glove and above the middle finger slot. This created a much larger pocket in the glove and made it easier to catch the ball. After a while, as the glove is broken in, the pocket to catch a ball gets larger and larger and it makes it easier to catch a ball. When catching a popup, I never dropped a fast spinning ball because I caught it high up in the web which deadened the spin and always had my hand relaxed. Infielders should not use this technique because they need a better feel for the ball as it enters into their glove and as they reach inside their glove to transfer the ball to their throwing hand.

As a teenager, I participated in quite a few games of “burn out” where two guys stand about 60 feet apart and throw the ball to the other guy as hard as they can. By having my fingers positioned as I have explained, my index finger and my palm never got stung by catching that little rock called a baseball. My next door neighbor was a year older than I was and we often played burn out with a twist. Our cement driveway was over 60 foot long and we opened the garage door so that we wouldn’t break any windows and parked our old, ratty pickup truck, with the side windows rolled down, in the curb so that the ball wouldn’t go into the street. I stood in the opening of the garage and my friend stood on the sidewalk. We used a rubber ball about the size of a baseball and did everything possible to make the other guy drop the ball. The rubber ball wanted to jump out of your glove if you didn’t catch it just right. If the ball bounced before it got to the other guy, it didn’t count. I learned how to make the ball break to the left or screwball to the right. After about 30 minutes the score was usually about 3 to 2 and the loser had to buy the other guy a coke. In the wintertime, I had several snowball fights every afternoon and I learned how to make a snowball break to the left or screwball to the right. Because all the guys were in so many snowball fights, they would generally just move their body forward or backward a few inches while making a new snowball and let my snowball sail right past them. After I hit them a few times with my breaking snowball, they learned to never take their eye off the snowball and that slowed down their ability to make a new snowball. Sometimes, I would secretly make two snowballs. I would throw the first one really high in the air and while they were watching that one come down, I would throw the second snowball right at their chest and I never missed.

In California, I was pitching fastpitch softball all year long and, even though there was no snow in the winter months, the temperature almost got down to freezing and catching the ball with cold hands still had a little sting. I started wearing a batting glove inside of my fielder’s glove and when summer came, I realized that I liked the feel of the batter’s glove making my hand stay firmly inside of my fielder’s glove regardless of my sweating hand. I only used a batting glove on my left hand when batting and so I wore a batting glove on my left hand from the time I started warming up before the game until the game was over and didn’t have the distraction of constantly changing gloves. When the game was over, I placed the batting glove inside my baseball glove with a ball in the glove on top of it so the batting glove and my baseball glove would stay formed to the size of the ball and my batting glove wouldn't be all wrinkled up when it dried out. Unlike the billionaires playing Major League Baseball, I never adjusted the Velcro strap on my batting glove from the time I first put it on. Major League Baseball could probably shave an hour off the duration of their games by eliminating letting the batters constantly step out of the batter’s box to adjust something. Once I stepped into the batter’s box, I stayed in the box and never took my eyes off of the pitcher. I learned a lot by watching what the pitcher was doing between pitches.

Speaking of batter's boxes, a baseball batter's box is different from the size of a softball batter's box. The home plate is 17 inches square with a couple of edges missing. The front edge of home plate is 17 inches and perpendicular to a straight line from home plate to the pitching rubber. The sides of home plate are perpendicular to the front edge of home plate and are 8 1/2 inches long to the midpoint of the plate and then the sides taper back to where the sides meet at a point which is the beginning of fair and foul territory. The dimensions of the batter's box use the midpoint of the plate as a reference point. Both batter's boxes are 6 inches from home plate. The baseball batter's box is 6 feet long and 4 feet wide. The softball batter's box is 7 feet long and 3 feet wide. Measuring from the midpoint of the plate, the baseball batter's box is 3 feet forward from the midpoint and 3 feet to the rear of the midpoint. The softball batter's box is 4 feet forward from the midpoint and 3 feet to the rear of the midpoint. The chalk marking the batter's box is supposed to be entirely within the lines of the batter's box. If the batter's boxes are laid out and chalked correctly, the left front corner of the right-handed batter's box will be 6 inches lower than the foul line and the left front corner of the right-handed softball batter's box will be 6 inches above the foul line. Just a casual look at the batter's boxes will tell you if they are positioned correctly. If you want to have some fun with an umpire, just ask him to tell you the dimensions of the batter's box. Every time I see a batter stand in the rearmost portion of the batter's box, it's just like fingernails on a chalkboard. Rather than continuing to do something done incorrectly for the last 130 years that doesn't make any sense, let's do some fresh thinking about this. In math, I was always taught to try to reduce something to absurdity in order to prove or disprove a theory. Since the hardest part about baseball or softball is hitting the ball, why not do something to increase your chances of hitting the ball fair instead of foul? If you were to stand at a point midway between home plate and the pitching rubber, most everything you hit would be a fair ball. Conversely, if you were to stand way behind home plate with your feet near the backstop, very few hits would be a fair ball. Therefore, in order to increase your chances of hitting a fair ball, stand—in the batter's box—as close to the pitcher as you can. Also, since the ball breaks the most at the last part of the pitch before it reaches the catcher, by standing in the front of the batter's box, you can hit the ball before it breaks the most thus making it easier to hit. Some batters say that, by standing at the rear of the batter's box, they have more time to react to the pitch. I think that a few milliseconds gained in reaction time is far outweighed by the better chance to hit the ball before it breaks the most and the greater the chance to hit a fair ball. Also, when you bat, both of your feet must be wholly within the lines of the batter's box and when you swing, if any portion of either foot is in contact with the line, you are still considered to be within the batter's box. Some people are concerned that batters who take a big stride when they swing, might step out of the batter's box. I tried to see if this would be a problem and couldn't step out of the batter's box with a ridiculously long stride. When I was coaching, I instructed all of my players to put the toe of their rear foot at the midpoint of the plate and not an inch deeper. We had the highest team batting average in the league.

There are two types of hitting: Lunge hitting and spin hitting. Most recreational batters use lunge hitting but they never get all the energy out of their body into the ball because they don't rotate their hips. Spin hitting is accomplished by spinning on the ball of the batter's rear foot so that the hips rotate and more body energy is released. Because a large lunge step is not taken, your head, the camera, is not jerked around and you can clearly see the ball. If you are taking a long stride when you swing, you are "lunge hitting" rather than "spin hitting" and your head is moving too much. You need to get rid of those flaws in your swing.

There are two different types of bat swings—the baseball swing and the fastpitch softball swing. Because a baseball pitcher stands on a mound and releases the ball from a high point downward toward the catcher, a baseball batter's swing should match the same trajectory—in reverse. Since the fastpitch pitcher stands on ground which is level with the catcher and releases the ball at a much lower level, which is at his thigh, the fastpitch batter's swing has to match that flat trajectory.

If you were to stand in front of a mirror and swing a bat, you would see that if you start to swing the bat level at the beginning, the bat would go uphill through the hitting zone. This type of swing would be appropriate for a baseball batter to hit a baseball coming downhill. Because a fastpitch softball's trajectory is level, a fastpitch batter needs to have his swing level through the hitting zone. In order for the swing to be level through the hitting zone, the swing has to begin on a downhill trajectory. To start the swing on a downhill trajectory, the hands have to be held much higher than a baseball swing. When I see a batter with his hands held low, I instantly know that all I have to do is to throw him 3 riseballs and he will look like a fool when he strikes out. If I were to throw him a drop, I would be doing him a favor because that is the only type of pitch he could hit, A fastpitch softball batter has to hold his hands high to hit a riseball but, when he recognizes that the pitch is a drop, he can easily lower his swing to meet the ball. A softball batter could start with his hands lower to hit the drop but it is almost impossible to raise the trajectory of his swing when he recognizes that the pitcher has thrown him a riseball. If the swing through the hitting zone is going uphill and the riseball is going uphill, there is only one small spot where the bat and the ball will meet. If the bat and the ball are on the same plane, the chances of contact are much greater.

Instead of the pitcher getting the batter out, most batters get themselves out because they don't get a good look at the ball. Your head is basically 20 pounds of camera and if the camera moves, the picture is blurred. In order to keep the batter's body from moving his camera, the batter has to keep his front shoulder down. Some coaches say that a batter has to keep his back shoulder up but that places the emphasis on the wrong part of the batter's body. If the back shoulder is up, the front shoulder will be down and if the front shoulder is down, the shoulder won't move the head when the batter swings and the camera can take a good picture. Since a batter gets his depth perception from seeing an object with both eyes, the head should be turned to face the pitcher so that both eyes are looking directly at the pitcher.

Another way that most batters get themselves out is to have a "busy bat" and the batter's bat doesn't start from a consistent spot. At the start of the swing, the bat must quit swinging around and come to a total stop. Along with that, more common mistakes are the batter dropping his hands at the beginning of the swing and moving the hands rearward before starting the swing. The hands have to be held high, all the way to the rear, and stopped. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Any movement of the hands other than forward toward the ball is a flaw in the swing and any flaw in the swing results in a slow bat. Also, if you stay relaxed, you will have a quicker bat because your reflexes are faster if you aren't tense.

Try this drill: Stand in your batter's stance with your rear foot against a fence or a wall and then swing the bat. If the bat touches the wall, you have a flaw in your swing. If you extend your arms too early, like a figure skater who extends his arms to slow down his spin, the hands are too slow to the ball and that results in a slow bat. You need to extend your hands toward the ball.

Here's another drill: While you are holding the bat in your batting stance, keep looking forward and take your top hand off the bat and reach up to touch just the very end of your bat. Most people who try this the first time will miss the end of the bat by a foot or two. You need to firmly establish, in your mind's eye, just exactly where the end of the bat is so that you can become more familiar with all the elements of your swing and that will help you make better contact with the ball.

Memorize this: "If you drop your hands, you loop the bat; if you loop the bat, you pop up the ball." If a batter pops up to the right side of the infield, then he probably dropped his hands which caused him to be late with his swing and to loop the bat which caused him to swing under the ball. This is a classic flaw.

While you're at it, also memorize this checklist: Weight on the back foot, hands up, hands back, front shoulder down, top of the ball. This is the checklist that a batter should go through every time he comes to bat. Keep repeating: Front shoulder down, top of the ball.

Baseball players making millions of dollars a year, who can't bunt, just plain don't want to bunt and their coaches don't have the guts to pull them from the game for not properly executing a sacrifice bunt. A sacrifice bunt is different from bunting for a hit because you are taking extra time to be sure that the ball is bunted toward the ground and that allows the runner to fully commit himself to advancing toward the next base and not waiting to see what the ball will do. A bunt can never be popped up. Bunting is the easiest thing in the world to do. Take your normal batting stance and when the pitcher is delivering the ball, move your front foot back to where it is even with your rear foot and a shoulder's width apart. While you are doing this, cup your top hand so that it is behind the bat and slide it on the bat to a position near the end of the bat where the trademark is located. The bat should be held with both hands out ahead of your body so that you can see the bat and the ball in the same picture without moving your head or eyes. The barrel of the bat should be slightly up, slightly forward, and at the very top of your strike zone. Don't move the bat toward the ball, let the ball come to the bat. This is incredibly important: Never move the bat up because you are already at the top of your strike zone and anything up from that would be called a ball. This is also incredibly important: Do not lower the bat with your hands! You only lower the bat by bending your knees. Keep the barrel of the bat slightly up and slightly forward and allow the ball to hit the bat. The direction of the bunt is regulated by the position of your bottom hand. If you move your bottom hand forward, you will bunt to the right and if you move your bottom hand rearward, the bunt will go to the left.

In the beginning, when I used to throw at a batter, I'd miss by a mile. I'd either throw a strike right down the middle of the plate or I would throw the ball two feet behind the batter. Then I figured it out: If you want to throw at the batter, you have to step right at the batter. As in any pitch, in order to hit your target, you have to step right at your target. Once I learned this, I never missed another batter. If you just want to send a message to the batter, throw a riseball at his head. He will duck, the riseball will continue rising over his head, and nobody will get hurt. If you want to hit the batter, throw a screwball drop and he won't be able to duck out of the way. I always aimed for the ribs. Most batters find that they don't really want to fight when they get the air knocked out of them. Sometimes you need to throw at a batter just to find out how badly he wants to stand in there and get a hit. Larry Nolan, who played for years in Watts, was a left-handed slap hitter and centerfielder for the Camarillo Kings from Camarillo, California. Larry was the MVP of the 1981 ISC World Tournament where he had a batting average of over .600. All you had to do was throw at him once in a while and then he was an easy out.

I especially remember throwing at a couple of players from that Sunday morning league in Watts. The left-handed leadoff batter always ran his mouth and so I started throwing at him every time we played but I didn't want to hit him because he was protected by his big friend, the #4 batter. One game, the #4 batter hit a home run and I decided that the next time I faced him I would have to hit him so he would have a little fear in the back of his mind the next time he came to bat. The next I faced that team, I waited until the appropriate time in the game when the bases were empty, there were two outs, and allowing someone to reach first base wouldn't affect the game. When he came to the plate, I threw a screwball drop at him and drilled him in the ribs. He started to charge at me to fight but stopped after about ten feet when he couldn't get his breath and so he just made a wide turn and headed toward first base while still bent over and trying to say something to me. So that he wouldn't continue to stay mad at me or our two teams would get into a big fight, I walked a few feet toward first base, told him I was sorry, and asked him if he was okay. He still was having trouble breathing so he just nodded his head. A few months later, the leadoff batter joined a team that played in the San Fernando Valley and the first time one of my Valley teams played them, he told the umpire before the game that I always threw at him but since the umpire had never seen him before, he just laughed him off and told him to get in the batter's box. Since he didn't have his big friend with him to protect him this time, the first pitch I threw was a screwball drop at his head. He let out a yell, turned into the pitch, and, by a stroke of luck, instead of hitting him on the nose, the ball hit his bat, which he was somehow holding vertically in front of his face. The ball rolled slowly back to me and I threw him out at first base while he was still standing in the batter's box. He didn't run his mouth anymore and he quit his team before we ever played again.

I guess you can probably tell that I don't like guys who run their mouths. Just let your bat and your glove do all your talking. Keep your mouth shut and play ball. My teammates never said anything to the other team because we were just concentrating on doing our job. The other team didn't matter because we were going to beat them anyway. We were always joking and saying nasty stuff to our own teammates. If one of our guys hit a home run, we would hold our noses and say stuff like, "You stink! Is that all the farther you can hit the ball?" Nobody on our team got a break.

I had a lot of experience with trash-talking and showboating. If someone were to showboat around me, I would have normally screwed the ball in his ear and everyone knew it but sometimes you can kill them with kindness. One time, a guy hit a double off of me and while he was standing on second base, he was shouting, pumping his fist in the air, and getting his team fired up. I turned around to him and said, "Hey, nice hit!" He was totally stunned, said, "Thanks!" and stopped shouting and pumping his fist. He was so satisfied that he never got another hit, his team had a big emotional letdown, and we beat them easily.

I like to feel relaxed before a game and so I usually got to the park early even before the lights were turned on and any of the other players had arrived. That way I would be able to take my time with my game preparation. This time, however, when I arrived at the park, as expected, the lights were not turned on but every member of the other team was already there and yelling and dancing around. My team was undefeated in the league but hadn't faced this team yet. They had just received some fancy new uniforms and a few of the players started taunting me with stuff like, "We're going to beat you this time, Cal" and other stupid stuff like that. They were just trying to get themselves pumped up and I wasn't going to help them. I thought I'd have a little fun with them so I walked over to their side of the field and said, "I'm sorry that I'm not going to give you guys a very good game tonight. Last night while I was pitching for another team in another city, I pulled a muscle in my leg so I won't be able to throw very hard and you guys will probably beat me pretty easily." They quit yelling and jumping up and down and said stuff like, "Oh, we're sorry to hear that." I totally let the air out of them. I went back to my side of the field and continued with my game preparation. The game finally began and about the second inning, the other team started catching on to the fact that there wasn't anything wrong with my leg. They started whining about the fact that I had deceived them but by that time, it was too late for them to get themselves fired up again, and we beat them easily.

One championship football coach used to tell his players that, when they scored a touchdown, they should act like they had been there before and they expected to be back there again. Bottom line: Trash-talking and showboating are bush league and all it will do is get the other team fired up and make them harder to beat. Why make things difficult for yourself? When I struck a batter out, even though the batter might be starring at me, I never even glanced in his direction. Like a machine, I had a special routine that went through after each strikeout. I immediately turned my back on the batter and smoothed out the dirt in front of the pitching rubber while the infielders threw the ball around. After throwing the ball around the infield, the first baseman and the third baseman threw the ball back and forth until I was ready. This allowed me a little extra time to relax between batters. When I was ready, I took the ball from the third baseman and turned to face the next batter. I never looked at the batter because I already knew who the next batter would be. I just looked at the overall picture and concentrated on the catcher's signals and his glove. Even though I concentrated on the catcher's glove, trying to hit the catcher's glove was not my highest priority. My highest priority was to put a good rotation on the ball and make it break as much and as sharply as I could regardless of where the ball went. If a pitcher aims the ball, he will allow the ball to stay too long on the tips of his fingers and that will slow down the rotation of the ball and make it easier to be hit.

In addition to hitting a number of batters, I also hit a few umpires along the way but quite by mistake, I assure you. The last thing you need is an angry umpire to be calling balls and strikes. The strike zone could get to be about as small as a postage stamp.

In 1974, I was playing for a team in a winter league in Westchester, California and it was a cold, windy night. When the umpire arrived, he hung a small portable radio on the backstop just a little bit toward first base so he could listen to the Lakers basketball game between innings. I was warming up to my catcher before the start of the game and the umpire was facing toward first base with his right ear pressed up against the radio. Well, the ball bounced off the catcher's mitt and hit the umpire squarely on the left ear. He didn't say a word! He just started slowly walking down the left field line until he was out of sight. We didn't know what to do so we just waited. After what seemed like about ten minutes, he came back, put on his mask, and said, "Play ball." He still looked pretty mad so nobody dared to say a word. The score was 3 to zero when I hit some guy's bat and it went for a home run with nobody on base. There were no fences on this open field so the ball just rolled and rolled. The guy had already scored and was hugging his girlfriend by the time the ball got back to the infield. I looked at the third baseman and he looked at me—the runner had clearly missed stepping on third base. He shook his head as if to say, "You're wasting your time." But I thought to myself, "What do we have to lose?" I waited for the umpire to put the ball in play, backed off the pitching rubber, and announced that we wanted to appeal that the batter missed third base. The umpire called him out. Needless to say, we were happy—but shocked. After being hit in the ear on a cold night, for a black umpire in a white suburb with mostly white players, to call a good game, that showed that he had a lot of character and integrity.

Another umpire bites the dust—literally. I was pitching for a team in a tournament in the San Fernando Valley on a Saturday night in 1978. The other team had called a timeout for an equipment repair and I motioned to my catcher that I wanted to throw a few warm-up pitches while waiting for the next batter to come to the plate. I made a half-circle in an overhand forward motion with my right hand as a signal that I was going to throw him a few easy drops and I thought he was looking right at me when he nodded his head. As usual, he was standing as there was no need for him to get down into the catching position for some warm-up pitches. Well, the ball went right past the right side of his head and hit the umpire behind him squarely on his forehead. The umpire never flinched but fell face first in the dirt—out cold! We all rushed to him and rolled him over but he was still out and we needed to call an ambulance. We covered him up and put a few jackets under his head but he was still pretty groggy when the ambulance took him to the hospital. After about a half hour wait, we were able to resume the game with another umpire. Of course, I felt just terrible but a good lesson to be learned is that if you're an umpire, don't stand anywhere close to home plate with your mask off. Even if you're just a fan, keep your eye on the ball.

From that time forward, if the other team was taking too long getting a batter to come to the plate, I just turned around and threw a few pitches to the shortstop if I felt that I needed to keep my arm warm or keep the feeling of the ball on my fingertips. Another little trick that I used was to throw a pitch to myself. I would turn my back to the plate, take a normal jump, and throw the ball at full speed but hold my left gloved hand in front and to the right of my body and catch my own pitch. It would make a really loud boom when the ball hit my glove and even if you were paying attention you'd still wonder where the ball went. That was always a real crowd pleaser and I could see little kids trying to imitate my moves. Even in situations where the umpire would not let me slip in an extra warm-up pitch to one of the other players (usually the shortstop), I could still throw to myself. Over the years, I've thrown thousands and thousands of pitches to myself. In addition to helping me keep the feeling of the ball on my fingertips, it helped me work on my timing, rhythm, and hip rotation. I always caught the ball which is more than I can say for all the rest of my catchers!

When I was coaching at Chaffey College, I threw the ball into my glove as part of a drill to help the players get a good start from one of the bases when the opposing pitcher threw the ball. For the last practice drill of the day, I had all the players line up on the first base line between home and first base with their left foot on the line. When I threw the ball into my glove, they rotated forward so that their right foot hit the ground at the exact moment that the ball made a loud snap when it hit my glove. I could tell that it was a necessary drill that had to be continuously performed because every time we began the drill, there wasn't a well-timed, uniform thud of right feet hitting the ground at the same time. I never stopped the drill until everyone's right foot hit the ground at the exact moment the ball hit my glove and there was only one solid sound. As an aside, it is important that the players dig a starting spot for their left foot in the dirt even with the front of the base and just touching the side of the base. Their right foot would be behind them in foul territory if they were on first base. If the players pushed off on top of the base itself, their left foot might slip off the base or they might not get a good push because the base might move. The rule states that the runner's foot cannot leave the base before the ball leaves the pitcher's hand. It's harder for the umpire to tell if the runner's foot leaves the base too soon and most umpires are reluctant to make that call as opposed to the more obvious call about being tagged or forced out at the next base. Most coaches agree that the odds are in the runner's favor if the runner takes a chance on getting a great jump on the ball and maybe leaves first base too soon rather than getting tagged out at second base.

When you warm up before a game or practice, there's a lot to be learned from just throwing the ball. This is not the time to just let your mind go blank. There's a correct way to warm up and you should use this time wisely. There is a right hander's seam to the ball and a left hander's seam to the ball. If you're going to be a serious student of the game you need to develop the ability to throw off the correct seam and this will give you a good four-seam rotation. You need to practice so that you can rotate the ball to the correct seam every time. I used to practice bouncing a softball on a sidewalk or other hard surface, catching it with just my right hand, and, in the blink of an eye, turning the ball so that my fingertips were perfectly positioned on the right hander's seam. I used to grab the correct seam so fast that you would swear it was a magic trick. Sometimes during a baseball game on TV, you’ll be able to see the shortstop rotate the ball to the correct seam before he throws the ball to first base. Even if he doesn't have time to rotate to the correct seam, his mechanics will be perfect because of proper practice and he will still get a good release on the ball by pushing his fingers straight through the back of the ball so that it will go straight and won’t have a tail on it.

When I was coaching, I used to mark up about ten or more special warm-up softballs with a magic-marker. I drew two half-inch lines around the balls so that the lines would intersect at the "signature spot" on the ball and be parallel to the four cross seams. The special blur of a four-seam rotation made by the magic-marker lines could be easily seen by each pair of players warming up so that corrections could be made if necessary.

There are two sides on the ball where the horseshoe-shaped seams are at their closest point. The logo is always placed on one side of the ball between the horseshoes and the other side between the horseshoes is left blank. That blank space is called the signature spot and that is where the ball is autographed. To find the right hander's seam on the ball, turn the ball so that the logo is facing you and the closed ends of each horseshoe are just an inch apart. Now rotate the ball toward you so that you are looking down on the horseshoe that was on top of the logo. The seam on the left side of the horseshoe is the right hander's seam where your index finger and middle finger are placed and the horseshoe seam below the logo is where your ring finger will rest. The thumb should then rest comfortably on the cross seam on the other side of the ball. Technically, there are four right hander's seams and four left hander’s seams to the ball. In reality, there are only two right hander's seams and two left hander’s seams but there are two sides to each seam. When you rotate the ball in your hand, the same seam might feel better if approached from the opposite side of the seam. Sometimes a really great seam is ruined if the batter hits the ball on that seam and then you have to rotate the ball around to find the next best seam. If a right-hander were to throw off of the left-hander's seam, there would be no seam for the ring finger to index on and the distance to the seam where the thumb rests would be different. It's important that the thumb and the first three fingers be in contact with a seam in order to build muscle memory. Larry Bird, one of the greatest basketball players of all time and an excellent free throw shooter, said that when shooting free throws with a basketball, you should take the time to make sure that your fingertips contact a cross seam. Consistency is the key. To be good in sports, you must do everything the same way every time so that you will build muscle memory in everything that you do.

By watching the top of the ball to see the special blur of a four-seam rotation made by the magic-marker lines, you will be able to see if the rotation is the proper speed or too slow and if the top of the rotation is in the one o'clock position. Since you don't throw directly overhand, the rotation will be slightly to the right of the twelve o'clock position but not down at the three o'clock position indicating a side-armed throw or a tilted wrist. If the blur "tumbles" that means that you didn't throw off of the correct seam or didn't get a good release by having both the index finger and the middle finger pushing directly through the back of the ball and the ball must have come off slightly to the thumb side of your index finger or to the ring finger side of your middle finger. You don't want an infielder to "put a tail" on the ball to first base. You must realize that whatever the direction of rotation you put on the ball is the direction the ball will break. A pitcher will use this knowledge to make the ball break down and away or down and in but you just want the rest of the players to throw it straight. An inconsistent release will result in an inconsistent movement on the ball and perhaps result in a dropped ball by the first baseman or an overthrow.

Even if I were going to pitch underhanded, I still warmed up overhand for at least 5 minutes because throwing overhand involves muscle groups different from throwing underhand. I always took pride in the fact that my catcher always caught the ball right in the middle of his chest and he never ever had to chase a ball. I remember being at a major league baseball game and watching the players warm up on the sidelines before the game. One player was so terrible at warming up that he kept throwing the ball everywhere except at the other player's chest. The other player got so tired of chasing the errant throws that he quit and walked away to play catch with someone else and left the bad thrower standing all by himself. Getting paid millions of dollars and still can't play catch—ridiculous!

When I started to warm up underhanded and the catcher was still standing up, I always hit him in the middle of his chest. I knew what rotation I was putting on the ball and I knew exactly where it was going. I could throw a drop or a riseball behind my back and still hit the catcher in the same spot every time. I was so accurate that I could regularly throw the ball behind my back from home plate and hit the edge of second base closest to first base where an infielder would normally hold his glove while tagging someone trying to steal second base. I could throw a ball behind my back from home plate to centerfield and still be accurate. The only problem was that I had to throw the ball in a very high arc because, after all, I still had to put a drop rotation on the ball to get the speed and distance but, by definition, a drop wants to come down to earth sooner than another type of release and, because rotation and gravity were working against me, the distance wasn't as far as it might have been if I had not thrown the ball behind my back.

It's important to realize that the same "Bernoulli's Principle" that explains why an airplane can fly also governs how the rotation of an object such as a baseball or softball affects the way it flies. There are a lot of mechanics in throwing a baseball which apply to throwing a softball underhanded. A four-seam fastball in baseball has the same backward rotation as that of a riseball in softball. As the ball moves through the air, the air slows slightly and pressure builds up on the underside of the ball and the four rotating seams help restrict and build the pressure. Just like an aircraft's wing, on the top part of the ball, the rotation and the seams help the air go past the ball faster and this results in a decrease in air pressure and the ball rises. Because of the smaller circumference, a nine-inch baseball has less surface area than a twelve-inch softball and therefore, a softball will rise more than a baseball. Obviously, pitchers throw a lot of different pitches off of a variety of seams but a four-seam fastball will rise more than a two-seam fastball.

While you're warming up your arm, you should also use the time to practice good throwing mechanics, body rotation, and weight transfer. The correct throwing motion will enable you to transfer as much energy as possible from the large muscles in your right leg to your left hip, arch your back to create a longer distance from your left hip to your right shoulder, and then to your elbow, your wrist, and then to the fingertips of your right hand. Just as an alarm clock won't ring if it's not wound, the same is true for the throwing motion and you will end up, as they say, "throwing with just your arm" and the ball won't go very far or have much speed if you don't wind up your body.

Any student of the game of baseball should have a working knowledge of the principles called "spring and spin" and/or "drop and drive." When you're standing with both feet forward facing the catcher, without moving your feet, try to turn your right hip as far as you can to the right. Now, turn your right foot to the right so that it is perpendicular or 90 degrees to the catcher and again turn your right hip as far as you can to the right. As you can easily see, with your right foot perpendicular or 90 degrees from the line toward your catcher, you can wind up your body a lot more. It is absolutely imperative that you turn your right foot out so that it is 90 degrees perpendicular to your catcher or even slightly more than 90 degrees. This is the first step in the "spring and spin" and this will allow your hips to spin further around to the right than if you just stood facing forward. This will, in turn, allow your hips to travel through more degrees of rotation when you spin to the left and forward to throw the ball. I have seen a lot professional baseball athletes make this fundamental mistake. Just because they make a lot of money doesn't mean that they know what they're doing. Generally, they have to injure themselves before they start working on good basic mechanics such as body rotation, weight transfer, the "arm circle," and the follow through.

When throwing a baseball, as your hips are rotating to the right and away from the catcher, you will then begin to bend your right knee so that when your hips reach the natural rotation stopping point and begin to spring back, you are ready to begin to spring forward and rotate your hips back toward the catcher. This is also called "drop and drive" because you drop down with your right knee bent and then you spring and drive forward toward home plate. When you are fully turned to the right at the point when you begin the pitch, you should have your body slightly angled so that your rear end will be closer to home plate than your head and feet. Your left knee should be bent and up against your chest. When you come forward, don't extend the left leg too soon as this will slow down the rotation of your body. I call this mistake "throwing with a lazy leg." Just as a figure skater spins faster with his arms and legs in close to the body and then starts to slow down as the arms and legs are moved further away from the body, so does a pitcher slow down his body rotation by extending the arms and legs too soon.

As you are fully wound and the spring is ready to be released, then you begin the "arm circle" by lowering your right arm from your glove at your chest down to where the elbow is almost fully extended and the right hand is near the right knee and thigh. As you throw, your arm will make a nice circle and the strain on your shoulder will be minimized because the motion is only forward and very fluid. If you were to take your hand straight back, the back and forward slamming motion would soon wear on your shoulder.

It's important that you realize how the energy is transferred from the large muscles in your right leg to the fingertips of your right hand without wasting energy. This is where the hip rotation and the arching of your back come into play. As you rotate forward, the energy is transferred from your large leg muscles to the point on your left hip where the lower left abdominal muscles attach. As you continue rotating forward, you begin to arch your back and the energy is then transferred diagonally across your stomach and chest to your right shoulder and then to your elbow, wrist, and fingers. Some people make the mistake of not "leading their elbow" and so the energy goes from the shoulder to the wrist and bypasses the elbow. This is easily corrected by understanding how this happens. As you stand straight up and extend your elbow straight out and your hand straight up in the "surrender" position, you will notice that your elbow is in line with the plane of your body and not out ahead of your wrist. Now arch your back and see how just the simple arching of your back causes the elbow to go ahead or "lead" your wrist. This simple arching of your back also increases the distance from the point on your left hip to your right shoulder so that a person who is shorter throws as if he were taller. Think of the throwing motion as a whip and every flaw in the motion decreases the length of the whip. You must do everything you can to increase the length of the whip and the opening of your shoulders, the arching of the back, and the leading of the elbow increases the length of your whip.

As you release the ball and rotate over your left foot on the "follow through," your right hand should begin to slow down in a free and easy motion and not come to a sudden stop which will add wear to and eventually tear the rotator cuff. In anatomy, the rotator cuff (layman's term) or rotor cuff (medical terminology) is the group of muscles and their tendons that act to stabilize the shoulder and the less wear and tear on your shoulder, the better. The best drill to use when working on the throwing motion is the "medium throw" where your throwing partner and you stand far enough apart so that both of you have to put some "arc" into the ball in order to "play catch." This forces you to put some "body" into the ball to reach the other person. The distance should be no longer than 100 feet or the length of a basketball court. By proper stretching, warming up properly and throwing correctly like Nolan Ryan, you should be able to throw at a high level for many years.

A friend rented a large building and installed numerous batting cages with pitching mounds for baseball batters to practice against live pitching. Several cages had radar guns. I was just visiting one day and two large, identical twin brothers came in to practice pitching off a baseball mound and used the radar gun. The two brothers alternated pitching and I asked one brother some questions about his pitching but he "knew it all" and didn't need any help. When they changed and the other brother was standing outside the cage, I had a chance to ask him a few questions and when he found that he didn't know the right hander's seam on the ball, he was intrigued and wanted to learn some more. They were identical twins and their pitching speed on the radar gun was identical too. After a few tips, the brother I was helping was throwing faster than his twin. Once I had his attention, I kept giving him more instructions and my pitcher kept gaining speed but the other brother stayed the same. My pitcher asked me not to tell his brother what I had been telling him because they were so competitive. I could only work with him about 15 minutes and then I had to leave, I didn’t have time to correct all of my pitcher’s flaws but I did teach him the basic concepts on which he could build. By the time I left, the brother I had been working with was throwing 8 mph faster than his twin.

Al Freeman was one of the greatest players I have ever seen. He was voted to the ISC All-World Team when the Comets from Burbank, California won the 1972 ISC World Tournament. Al was a tall and lanky guy who played centerfield and was so quick that he intimidated the other team. Al had such incredible quickness that if he hit a ground ball straight up the middle directly toward the other team's centerfielder for a normal single, he would be able to turn it into a double. Al was the only guy I ever saw who could round first base and seemingly take two or three more strides and start sliding headfirst into second base. He so intimidated the players on the other team with his speed that they would bobble the ball because they had so much pressure on them to be perfect with their fielding and throwing otherwise Al would take an extra base. Al could turn singles into doubles and doubles into triples. One Saturday morning in 1974, Mike Smith invited me to a workout that Al Freeman and he had arranged. We hit some ground balls, fly balls, and then threw each other some batting practice. As we were getting ready to call it quits for the day, Mike mentioned to Al that I had a pretty good arm overhand and that I had bragged to him that I had never been beaten in a long distance throwing competition. I had hurt my arm years earlier at Black Hills State. Over the years, my arm slowly came back but it was never like it was before. So, to throw for distance against Al Freeman was going to be quite a challenge. Mike went 100-yards downfield and waited for us to start throwing. Al and I alternated throwing until Mike yelled to Al after about five throws that I had beaten him every time. I wish that I had taken better care of my arm and had warmed up properly before throwing. I think that it is unfortunate but true that the only people who have given a lot of thought to the throwing motion are the ones who have already hurt their arms.

Royal Beaird, who had put together a women's fastpitch softball team consisting of just four players called "The Queen and Her Maids," challenged the Burbank Comets to an exhibition game at the beginning of the 1973 season. Royal Beaird must have been too stupid to know that the Burbank Comets won the 1972 ISC World Tournament and that his team was going to be destroyed. Royal Beaird's daughter, Rosie Beaird, who later married and became known as Rosie Beaird Black, pitched for the team and their shortstop was a guy dressed up as a girl and named "Lotta Chatter." Needless to say, Royal Beaird had a highly inflated opinion of his daughter and his team. Hundreds of people paid to watch the game and the grandstands were packed. Al Freeman started the game with a leadoff, frozen-rope triple that almost put a hole in the left field fence and the game went downhill for Rosie Beaird from there. After the Comets scored 10 runs with no outs in the first inning, Royal Beaird stopped the game and invited anyone from the grandstands to come down on the field to replace the Comets and finish the game. From that time forward, Royal Beaird always had a meeting with the opposing team before the game and informed them that, in no uncertain terms, they were just there to help put on a show. The opposing pitcher was told that he had to let them have a two-run lead and anytime one of Royal Beaird's batters tipped their cap at the plate, he had to throw them a change so they could easily hit the ball.

Royal Beaird modeled his team after Eddie Feigner's world famous "The King and His Court" with the exception that Eddie Feigner was a great pitcher and a real gentleman. Eddie Feigner never had any "agreement" with the other team before the game began and if you beat Eddie Feigner or if he beat you, the game was fair and square.

This is a nice video about Eddie Feigner and the King and his Court.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4WDNOGEwFXw

99% of all the pitches that Eddie Feigner threw were illegal but hey, that's show business!

Narrating the video is Jack Knight who pitched with The King and his Court and who used to do a lot of television work. I never got a chance to pitch against Eddie Feigner but I did pitch against Jack Knight several times and I never lost to him.

Funny story: I was going to pitch a game in the San Fernando Valley one night and several of the guys on my team were concerned about a new pitcher that the other team had picked up for our game. They pointed out the new pitcher and I just laughed. I said, "Oh, that's just Jack Knight. Every time I beat him, the players on my different teams start yelling at him "Good night, Jack Knight". And so, even before the game starts, my team starts repeatedly yelling at him, "Good night, Jack Knight" and he starts looking around to see if he can see someone he knows because he's playing a team that he has never seen before. And then he sees me and he lowers his head knowing that he's in for another beating that night. My guys made his life miserable. A couple of years later, I faced him in a tournament in Orange County and threw a no-hitter against him. Small world!

When I young and first started pitching, I had a bad case of "rabbit ears" which meant that I heard every word said by anyone for miles around and the game seemed to go by so fast that I couldn't even remember what happened. I soon learned to relax, take my time between pitches, and slow the game down to a pace that was comfortable to me. I was soon able to remember every batter, what his strengths and weaknesses were, and what pitches I had thrown him in previous times at bat. I also developed the ability to shut everything out once the game began. The crowd could be going nuts, screaming and yelling, but for me, standing out in the middle of the diamond, it was very quiet. Some fans would ask if their cheering helped and I always said it did but truthfully, I never heard anything. My hearing was very selective and only the voices of a few friends could get through but other than that everything was very quiet and calm. One Sunday afternoon in 1975, one of my teams was playing in a tournament in East Los Angeles and the grandstands were packed with Spanish speaking people. Even before the game started, there was this lady in the third base grandstands who was standing up and yelling something to me in Spanish at the top of her lungs. Since our dugout was on the third base side and I was warming up in front of the dugout, she was very close to me. I was amazed that someone could go on and on as long as she could. She was gesturing, loudly yelling, and just going nuts. I knew that, once the game got started, I wouldn't be able to hear her but her incessant yelling was also getting the fans and the other team fired up. I decided to have a little fun. When the game was about to begin, I was standing behind the pitching rubber waiting for the batter to step into the batter's box. At that time, I called timeout, turned, took a couple of steps toward the third base grandstands, looked straight at her, waited for her to stop yelling, held out my hands with my palms up, shrugged my shoulders, shook my head from side to side, and said, in a loud voice, "Me Gringo, No Comprende." Everyone in the grandstands laughed and laughed. Her friends pulled on her dress to get her to sit down and I never heard anything more out of her after that.

When I pitched fastpitch softball in Southern California, I was on a restricted pitcher's list. That meant that I was too good to pitch in most leagues. Sometimes some friends would ask me to pitch an occasional, important game in a lower league in a city where I wasn't known on sight. I would pitch under an assumed name just in case they asked the umpire to check the restricted pitcher's list. I was what is known as a "ringer." I would pitch a lot slower than normal and wouldn't strike anyone out and just occasionally throw a little riseball. I didn't want to draw any attention to myself. I would move the ball around a little, just hit the corners of the strike zone, and put just enough movement on the ball so that the batter couldn't hit it square. I never walked anyone but I would give up some hits and runs depending on the score. I never let the other team get any closer than two runs. Before the pitch, I would look at the second baseman or the shortstop to let them know that I was going to make the batter hit the ball to their side of the infield. We would win some games by some fairly high scores like 7 to 5 and 8 to 6. When we shook hands with the other team after the game, a bunch of their players would come up to me and say, "I just missed hitting a home run off of you tonight." I would just laugh and say, "Yeah, I guess I was just lucky. You guys are pretty good hitters"

I remember one time a guy came up to me while I was pushing my shopping cart in a supermarket in Anaheim, California. He introduced himself to me and said that he had played against me for a number of years. In the course of our conversation, he confessed that he had never gotten a hit off me. He said he used to dread coming to the ballpark knowing that he was going to have to face me that night. After we shook hands and he left, I felt bad. I got to thinking that maybe he should have set something up with some of my catchers like some of the other batters used to do. Most of my catchers were always ready to have some fun and liked to talk to the batters between pitches. Sometimes, a batter would jokingly ask one of my catchers for something good to hit and being good-natured guys, sometimes, depending on the circumstances, like if the batter had his girlfriend in the grandstands or if we had a big lead, they would tell the batter what the next pitch was going to be or would ask the batter what type of pitch he liked to hit. Most batters didn't know whether or not to believe the catcher but after a few pitches, they started to have more confidence. Sometimes, my catchers just wanted to see if the batters could hit the ball even if they knew what the next pitch would be. I could see them talking to each other and sometimes I had the feeling that something special was going on. One way I could tell that the batter knew what pitch was coming next was when I had a batter totally set up for a strikeout pitch—a pitch that he should have been totally fooled by—and instead of being fooled, he had a great swing at the ball—a confident, well-timed swing at the right spot. That would start me thinking, "Wow, I thought I had him set up." If that happened again, that would make me think that someone was picking off our signs. Was their third base coach able to see what signs the catcher was showing me or was one of my catchers having a little fun again? Sometimes I could tell by the way they were snickering that my catcher was telling the batter what pitch was coming next. Occasionally, I would decide to have a little fun of my own and so I would cross-up my catcher and throw him something that he wasn't expecting. If he had called for a drop, I would surprise him by throwing him a riseball and, if I got lucky, the ball might rise up over his glove and hit him in his mask. I would just smile at my catcher and he would start laughing—he knew he had been caught—but that never stopped any of my catchers from doing it again and again. It was really pretty funny—a game within a game.