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How Tiny Tim Became a Pitching Giant
Tom Verducci
July 07, 2008
The mechanics of diminutive Tim Lincecum—looks 18, throws 98—are more than an act of violence, they're a marvel of modern science. Unconventionally honed by his father, that delivery has produced the most fascinating ace of his generation
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July 07, 2008

How Tiny Tim Became A Pitching Giant

The mechanics of diminutive Tim Lincecum—looks 18, throws 98—are more than an act of violence, they're a marvel of modern science. Unconventionally honed by his father, that delivery has produced the most fascinating ace of his generation

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"We've learned about what the red flags are and how to train movements that will be green flags," Peterson says, who was fired by the Mets on June 17 as part of a purge that included manager Willie Randolph. "And most of the people who cannot perform the movement patterns have some genetic disposition—either their hips are locked or they don't have the flexibility—so that the major red flags in deliveries you get from the lab are not fundamental-skill issues. They're physical and conditioning issues."

Most front offices, coaches and pitchers, however, rely on the same observational approach to pitching mechanics that has been in place for more than 100 years. Such analysis by "eyeballing" is combined with a preference to leave a pitcher alone, no matter how poor his mechanics may be, if he is getting good results. "That philosophy," Peterson says, "would lend itself to people who buy expensive cars and stop changing the oil and rotating the tires. 'If it ain't broke, don't fix it.' People don't take care of their home that way; they don't take care of their car that way; they don't take care of their bodies that way."

MARK PRIOR is a classic example of a high-performing pitcher who was permitted to break down because of poor mechanics. Ironically, Prior was often hailed for his "flawless" mechanics when the Cubs drafted the righthander out of USC with the No. 2 pick in 2001, though that assessment seems to have been influenced by scouts' preference for his 6'5", 225-pound body type. Studied closely, his mechanics included two severe red flags: 1) Prior lifted his throwing elbow higher than his shoulder before reaching the loaded position, increasing the stress on his elbow and shoulder; and 2) unlike Lincecum's dynamic late torso rotation, Prior rotated his hips and torso before getting to the loaded position. With the letters of Prior's jersey already facing the target, his arm could not simply "go along for the ride"—the ride was over, so his arm had to generate all of its own power.

Prior went 41--23 over his first four seasons in the big leagues. During that time, in 2003, when Prior was on his way to a career-high 18 wins, Peterson gave a presentation to the Oakland scouting department about "certain red flags in a delivery that we can't do much about" as the A's prepared for the draft. The idea was to avoid sinking large signing bonuses into players with a high potential to break down. (Late picks, because of their lower cost, don't carry the same concern.)

One of Oakland's scouts, responding to Peterson's red-flag warnings, said, "Hey, that's what Prior does. Are you saying that we shouldn't draft a player like that?"

Replied Peterson, "No, not exactly. He's one of the best pitchers in the league right now, but what I am saying is, If he doesn't have maximum [shoulder] rotation, it will lead to injury. It's like slamming the brakes over and over. The brake pads are going to wear out until it's metal on metal."

Prior has suffered a series of shoulder injuries that have limited him to one win and nine starts in the three seasons since. Still only 27, he is out for the season—again—after surgery to repair a tear in his right shoulder. "Prior is almost all upper body," Chris Lincecum says. "You could cut his legs off and he would throw just as hard. I don't like to put my finger on players, but I've been doing this a long time. I've said, 'He's going to blow his elbow out' or 'His back will go out.' Sure enough, it happens, including Dice-K [ Daisuke Matsuzaka], Jake Peavy, Prior.... I have a hard time enjoying the game. I'm sitting there criticizing the pitcher. It hurts to watch pitchers. Seventy percent of the pros have poor mechanics."

Bobby Brownlie was supposed to be Tim Lincecum. A 6-foot righthander from Rutgers who hit 97 mph on the gun, Brownlie was regarded as one of the top pitchers in the 2002 draft. Peterson was working as the A's pitching coach at the time. Just before the draft, Oakland G.M. Billy Beane gave Peterson videotapes of some 20 pitchers the A's were considering as draft picks and told him to break down each pitcher not by stuff and performance but by the biomechanics of their deliveries.

The previous winter Peterson had met Brownlie at a banquet and told him, "Hey, I hear you're great. Congratulations, I hear you're going to be a [first round] pick." But when he watched Brownlie on the tape Beane had given him, Peterson says, "I'm literally sick to my stomach. I'm going, 'This is so sad.'"

A few days later, when Beane asked Peterson what he thought of Brownlie, the pitching coach replied, "He has certain characteristics in his delivery that will lead to shoulder problems."

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