How Tiny Tim Became A Pitching Giant

Where Lincecum truly separates himself from most pitchers is the length of his stride. It is ridiculously long as it relates to his height. And just as his left foot, the landing foot, appears to be nearing the ground at the end of his stride, he lifts it as if stepping over a banana peel—extending his stride even more. The normal stride length for a pitcher is 77% to 87% of his height. Lincecum's stride is 129%, or roughly 7 1/2 feet.

"That just came naturally," Tim says. "My dad always told me to sit down on my back leg as long as I could and push off as much as I could. I'm trying to get as much out of my body as possible. I've got to use my ankles, my legs, my hips, my back.... That's why I'm so contorted and it looks like I'm giving it full effort when it's not exactly full effort."

As for the "step-over" move near the end of his stride, Lincecum explains, "That's from my hips. I'm getting everything toward the target, and my hips want to go. My hips can't just go and open up. I'm trying to create torque. That's when everything kind of explodes. My body comes, and [my arm] is just kind of along for the ride."

A long stride, however, carries two severe risks for pitchers: 1) It can compromise the ability to rotate the hips; and 2) it can cause a pitcher to land on his heel with a stiff front leg, the equivalent of slamming on the brakes in a car. Jump and then land on your heels. The shock of the impact travels up your legs to your hips. It hurts. Imagine doing it 100 times a game over many games over many years. It's no wonder that long-stride pitchers such as Britt Burns, who needed a hip replacement, and Jason Schmidt, who can't stay off the disabled list, break down.

Now jump and land on the balls of your feet and your toes. The shock is absorbed with the help of the toes, feet, ankles, legs and bent knees. How can Lincecum take such a long stride and still land on the ball of his left foot with a bent front knee? One secret, he explains, is what he calls his "ankle kick," a snapping of his right ankle as his right foot, the back foot, leaves the rubber. Lincecum comes off the rubber with such snap that, upon the ball's release, his right foot is more than a foot in front of the rubber, shrinking the distance—and thus stealing precious time—between him and the batter.

"My dad never taught me to lunge at the plate," Tim says. "It kind of came naturally. That ankle kick that I get and the drive that I get from my back leg will make a big difference in how I get to the plate and how I pitch that day."

There is another secret to Lincecum's ability to land so softly with such a long stride: his extreme athleticism. It takes tremendous balance and coordination to pull it off. Many pitchers are poor athletes who happen to be blessed with one very specific skill. Lincecum has the body of a gymnast and can rip off a backflip or walk on his hands to prove it. Chris likes to tell the story of how Tim came home one day during his junior year of high school and said, "Dad, I want to try out for the golf team." Chris pointed out that Tim had played 27 holes in his life and didn't even own golf clubs. No matter. Playing with a borrowed set, Tim needed to shoot 40 on the last of three nine-hole rounds to make the team. He shot a 39.

Once the landing foot hits the ground, every pitcher must have the ball in the loaded position; that is, the ball is raised behind him, ready to come forward and be delivered. Think of the cocking of a gun before it fires. Here Lincecum again separates himself from most pitchers with his athleticism and timing. As he reaches the loaded position, Lincecum's hips have just opened so that his belt buckle is facing the batter. His torso, however, has not yet begun to rotate toward the plate. The GIANTS on his home jersey is facing third base and his left shoulder remains pointed directly at the target. Only then, with his body essentially twisted against itself, does the torso fire, creating more rotational power as, at last, after this symphonic whipsaw action of his body, his arm simply "comes along for the ride."

Once the baseball leaves his hand, Lincecum isn't done. An abrupt stop of the shoulder will lead to back and shoulder injuries, so to keep his right shoulder moving after the ball is gone Lincecum must keep his torso moving over his front leg. To create this sustained momentum, Chris invented a drill in which he placed a dollar bill on the ground to the left and in front of the landing spot of Tim's left foot. Tim would have to pick up the dollar in the same motion after releasing the ball.

"My dad's always stressing, 'Pick up the frickin' dollar! If I put down a hundred-dollar bill, you'd pick it up every time!'" Tim says. "If I get out there and get myself over [the front leg], my follow-through should be the tail end of when you whiplash a whip. That's what it is for me. Like Tiger Woods finishing his swing."