SI Vault
Mark Mulvoy
August 26, 1968
Behind every pitcher hurling a shutout game in this season of the vanishing hitters are plenty who threw too hard too early in their careers. A majority are now out of baseball or recuperating in its boondocks
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August 26, 1968

Sore Spots In A Big-arm Year

Behind every pitcher hurling a shutout game in this season of the vanishing hitters are plenty who threw too hard too early in their careers. A majority are now out of baseball or recuperating in its boondocks

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These four pitchers managed to have at least one outstanding year in the major leagues. Many others have not been that lucky. Six years ago the Tigers gave a lefthander, Tom Fletcher, more than $50,000 to drop out of the University of Illinois. Fletcher pitched at Knoxville for a few months, then in September he was brought up to Detroit. Within two weeks he was in Henry Ford Hospital—his left side paralyzed. "I had what they call thrombophlebitis, a disease of the veins," Fletcher said the other day between starts for the Denver Bears of the Pacific Coast League. "I couldn't play in 1963 because I had to wear an elastic case that served as a blood pump for the veins in my arm. I pumped it 300 times a day to get the blood circulating."

Fletcher returned to baseball in 1964, but his arm was sorrowfully weak. Last month, still unable to throw hard, he was given his release. He negotiated a contract with Denver, a Minnesota farm team. "The expansion draft is in the fall," he said, "and if I don't get picked up—or if the Twins don't invite me to spring training—I'll go home to Danville, Ill. and finish up my schooling."

Four years ago the New York Mets gave fastballer Dennis Musgraves more than $100,000—still the largest bonus in their history—to drop out of the University of Missouri. Unfortunately, Musgraves injured his elbow. Fortunately, he stayed with baseball, trying to work out his miseries as a relief specialist for the Memphis Blues of the Texas League.

"It happened after I had pitched for the Mets in Chicago in July of 1965," Musgraves said the other day. "I had started against the Cubs and was losing 1-0 when they took me out for a pinch hitter in the seventh inning. The next day my right elbow was so swollen I could hardly lift it. I had an exploratory operation that fall, and then in August of 1966—a year after it all happened—they did a do-or-die operation and took a bone out of my elbow."

His fastball gone for good, Musgraves now throws sharp-breaking curveballs and off-speed pitches that he hopes will be hit into the ground—and not over the fences. "I know how it all happened," Musgraves said. "I'm sure the same thing happens to every kid who comes down with a bad arm. You get a chance to pitch in the majors, and maybe you're not really ready for it. You go up there and try to throw everything a little too hard. You try to throw a faster fastball, a sharper curve. You overextend your pitching limits, and when you do that you throw yourself out of whack someplace. As a result you put too much pressure on your arm. And at that point of your development, your arm can't take it."

There may be a solution for all this. Jerry Walker, considered phenomenal as a 20-year-old in 1959 when he won the All-Star Game for the American League, and now the 29-year-old manager of the Oneonta (N.Y.) Yankees of the New York-Penn League, came down with a sore arm after his early pitching success. Today, as he looks back, he thinks about what happened. "All these kids—the kids who came up with me, the kids like Nolan and Bunker and Sutton today—all hurt their arms early in their careers. Well, pitchers in the minor leagues must face only one or two real good hitters in a lineup. Then they're called up to the majors. They pitch in a rotation against nine good hitters—and they aren't ready to handle the load. They press too much, and soon their arms are hanging. My idea is to work them hard in the minors and let up on them their first years in the majors."

The problem of sore arms is not confined strictly to young kids. Throughout the minor leagues veterans such as Dick Radatz and Jim O'Toole and Jim Bouton, all of whom were making $30,000 or more two or three years ago, are trying to overcome various arm injuries and survive through a few years of expansion baseball.

Bouton, in fact, now is owned by the new Seattle team of the American League, but he is pitching today for the old Pacific Coast League Seattle club, known formerly as the Rainiers but recently as the Angels when they became an affiliate of Anaheim. The Yankees discarded Bouton a few months ago when it became obvious that he would never recapture the fastball that helped him win 21 games in 1963 and then 18 more in 1964. "My pitching motion those two years was a symphony," Bouton said the other day, "and then in 1965 it started to become violent.

"Three weeks ago I decided to become strictly a knuckleballer," Bouton said. "Look at Hoyt Wilhelm. What's he, 45? I drink the Knox Gelatine because it makes my fingernails strong, and I cut the nails of my right fingers real square—so the ball will not rock during my delivery. The knuckler is in the embryo stage right now. But I'm going to ride it back to the majors."

And Dennis Musgraves is trying to ride back to the big leagues with a curve. And Gary Nolan is attempting to stay in the majors without his old fastball. This happens when young arms turn old, because old heads in front offices are willing to waste a few arms for immediate, seasonal success.

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