Picky, Picky, Picky!

Chuck Knoblauch's leadoff at bat against Andy Ashby in Game 2 of last year's World Series didn't make very many highlight videos. But if there was a defining moment in the New York Yankees' sweep of the San Diego Padres, it may have been this extended plate appearance. After quickly falling behind in the count 0 and 2, Knoblauch, the Yankees second baseman, curled in his stance like a question mark and girded for protracted battle. He adjusted his helmet, fixed his gaze on the pitcher and didn't so much as flinch when Ashby's next offering barely missed low and away.

Sensing the challenge, the Padres righthander adjusted his rhythm and took an extra few seconds before his next pitch, a heater down the middle that Knoblauch fouled off. Ball two—a thigh-high slider a bit outside—followed. Then the pesky batter fouled off another pitch. After Knoblauch fiddled in the box, Ashby missed the plate with his next two pitches, with ball four almost hitting Knoblauch.

Having thrown eight strenuous pitches in the most high-stakes game of his life, all Ashby had to show for his labors was a base runner. Knoblauch would steal second and, later in the inning, score on a throwing error by Padres third baseman Ken Caminiti. It was the first of three Yankees runs in the first. Next inning, centerfielder Bernie Williams jacked a two-run homer on the ninth pitch of his at bat, giving New York a 6-0 lead. After 66 pitches, Ashby was ashes, having lasted just 2⅔ innings, the briefest outing of any San Diego starter all season. "The Yankees were so disciplined," recalls Dave Stewart, the Padres' pitching coach at the time and now the assistant general manager of the Toronto Blue Jays, "that the game was tough to watch."

Not that Game 1 had been any easier. San Diego's ace, righthander Kevin Brown, took a 5-2 lead into the top of the seventh, but, having been induced to throw 108 pitches, Brown was pulled with one out after catcher Jorge Posada, the number 8 hitter, singled, and leftfielder Ricky Ledee walked on four pitches. With Brown in absentia, New York pounded two relievers for seven runs (the first two charged to Brown) and won 9-6. "I've never seen a team so good at working the count," declared Padres general manager Kevin Towers afterward. "They weren't swinging at pitches that the Astros and the Braves were going after," Towers added, alluding to the teams San Diego had vanquished in the postseason.

Never mind the Yankees' reputation as the Bronx Bombers:

In the late '90s they have fielded teams for which AB might as well stand for "abstaining." Far and away the most selective collective in baseball, New York hitters saw an average of 17.5 pitches per inning from opposing starters last season. It's not so much that the Yankees intentionally take pitches; they simply refuse to put the disagreeable ones into play. "We realize that to beat a team's best starters, you have to hit as a unit," says first baseman Tino Martinez. "Each guy has to be disciplined and try to wear the pitcher down."

More to the point, the Yankees recognize that the best strategy for beating an opposing ace rests on a tactic overmatched boxers might use in the ring. They methodically work the body, blunt the behemoth's power and exhaust him by the middle rounds. The more a pitcher throws, the sooner his pitch count hits critical mass, and the better the chance he gets yanked for a middle—and often middling—reliever.

Just how heavily do the Yankees emphasize these jabs to a pitcher's solar plexus? Manager Joe Torre professes ambivalence when Knoblauch practices his subspecialty of hitting first-pitch home runs (six in the past five years). "It's one of those Catch-22 situations," says Torre. "You're glad to have the home run, but we need our leadoff guy working the count, getting on base. That helps the middle of the order." In part because of their patience, the Yankees' games last season averaged 3:05:35, the longest in the majors (chart, page 79). "If having a long game means that we're going deep in the count and causing a lot of pitching changes," says Torre, "well, I'm all for it."

Pitchers tire at different rates, but in his Series appearance Ashby was nearing a number—75 pitches—at which even many of the best pitchers tend to lose their effectiveness. In the American League in '98, teams hit .267 against starters' first 75 pitches, but .293 against the next 15 tosses; in the National League, the figures were .262 and .282, respectively. Against Boston Red Sox righthander Pedro Martinez, teams batted .195 through his first 75 pitches; on his next 15 throws, they hit .276. Likewise, in his starts last season for the Toronto Blue Jays, Cy Young winner Roger Clemens (now a Yankee) held teams to an anemic .184 average during his first 75 pitches, but that figure jumped to .284 in the 15 throws thereafter. Not surprisingly, Clemens averaged 3.6 more pitches per inning in his losses than in his wins. "Making a conscious effort to work the count may only get you a few extra pitches an inning," says Atlanta Braves pitching coach Leo Mazzone. "But if that means the starter gets pulled an inning early, that can be a big deal."

Aside from helping a team get to the soft underbelly of an opponent's pitching staff, extending the count early in the game often forces a starter to prematurely reveal his repertoire. Knoblauch admits to being on such a reconnaissance mission in his momentous at bat against Ashby, whom most of the Yankees hitters had never seen before. "One of my jobs is to let everyone on the bench see what the guy is throwing," says Knoblauch, who finished seventh in the majors in pitches per plate appearance (4.09) last season (chart at right). "I saw quite a few of [Ashby's] pitches, and I told everyone what he had."