Know what I hate? I hate pitch counts. I hate pitch counts and I’m tired of hearing about them. We are raising a generation of babied pitchers who can’t make it past the sixth inning without their poor little arms getting tired. In this era of fear that we live in, everyone’s afraid of everything, and that mentality has worked its way into baseball. There is a tremendous fear of pitchers developing sore arms and so we have these damn pitch counts to make sure they are not overworked. Unfortunately, it is this coddling that helps contribute to sore arms.

Do you wonder why pitchers seem to have arm problems so much these days? It is because their arms are not conditioned to throw a lot of pitches. Minor league starting pitchers are rarely allowed to throw more than five or six innings; so when they arrive at the big league level, they are conditioned to only throw about that many innings. No one is expected to go the full nine innings anymore. So now, in order to win ballgames, you have the need for a strong bullpen. And you have guys in the bullpen who are conditioned to throw only so many innings too. You see, they throw every damn day now, because the starters are out by the seventh inning, so you have seventh inning pitchers, eighth inning pitchers, and closers. And God forbid if you ask an eighth inning guy to pitch into the ninth, or a closer to come into the game in the eighth.

So as a result, there is no flexibility in a pitching staff anymore. Each starting pitcher is physically and mentally conditioned to throw so many pitches for so many innings. Each member of the bullpen is physically and mentally conditioned to pitch only to batters who bat from a certain side of the plate, during certain innings, on certain days, during certain months, in certain weather, etc., etc., etc.

And this all brings me to Kerry Wood and Mark Prior and the damn pitch counts and the sore arms and all that crap. Whenever a pitcher gets a sore arm now, some members of the media immediately blame the manager because he allowed the poor pitcher to throw 136 pitches in his last start (rather than the recommended every fifth day allowance of 110 pitches). Undoubtedly, those extra twenty-six pitches ruined the over-worked little fellow’s arm and it’s all the mean old manager’s fault—shame on him!

Following his rookie season in 1998, Kerry Wood had to have “Tommy John surgery” to repair his sore right elbow. Tommy John surgery is named after Lou Gehrig who…wait a minute, I have my notes mixed up…Tommy John surgery is named after Tommy John who was the first pitcher to successfully return from such surgery and pitch effectively. Of course, the blame for Wood’s injury was given to then Cub manager, Jim Riggleman. “It’s Riggleman’s fault,” dim-witted sports writers and sports talk show hosts said. “Wood threw too many pitches. He threw 130 pitches on July 7 and Riggleman knows that his pitch limit should be 122.569, and blah, blah, blah…”

In spring training of 2004, it was more of the same crap. This time it was Mark Prior, who had a sore Achilles tendon, and a sore elbow, and a runny nose, and of course, the blame went to Cub manager Dusty Baker. “It’s Baker’s fault,” dim-witted sports writers and sports talk show hosts said. “Prior threw too many pitches. He threw 135 pitches on September 23 and Baker knows that his pitch limit should be 119.361, and blah, blah, blah…”

Look, if pitchers can only throw so many pitches, why were there so many great hurlers back when I was growing up who started every fourth day (instead of every fifth day, like today’s starters), threw complete games, weren’t on pitch counts, and had long, successful careers? Why were these guys able to do it? You know why? Because they were never on pitch counts and they were allowed to pitch nine innings and their arms and minds became conditioned to throw lots and lots of pitches. They started a game with the goal of pitching nine innings, and if they didn’t pitch a complete game, they felt like they didn’t do their jobs.

I laugh when I hear a broadcaster refer to a pitcher who throws 200 innings in a season as a guy who gives you innings. “He’s a guy who gives you lots of innings,” they say. You want lots of innings? In 1971, Ferguson Jenkins started 39 games for the Cubs, completed 30 of them, and pitched a total of 325 innings. Now that’s lots of innings! From 1967 through 1972, Jenkins started 234 games and completed 140 of them. No pitch counts folks. He just went out there and threw the damn ball, and he was never hurt.

I recently called Jenkins and asked him about all the pitches and all the innings and if he thought he would have been better off with a pitch count. He laughed and replied, “Pitch count? I didn’t need no stinkin’ pitch count.” Okay, I lied. I never called Fergie—I don’t even know him. I tried to call him though and had no luck. Do you know how many Ferguson Jenkins’ there are in the phone book? None, that’s how many! But if I had talked to Fergie, I’m sure he would have said something like: “Who are you and how’d you get my damn phone number?”

I did however conduct an experiment designed to illustrate just how much they are babying pitchers these days. I paid a kid in the neighborhood ten bucks to put on a catcher’s mitt and catch me out at the local park. I measured off 60’6” and prepared to abuse my arm with an assortment of curve balls and my sizzling 46 mile-per-hour fastball. If I could throw, say 150 pitches or so, these young whippersnappers should certainly be able to do the same and more. Now keep in mind that I am fifty years old and the last time I pitched was about five years ago with a whiffle ball in the backyard. So, I was really taking a chance here. I could have really caused some major damage to my arm.

Anyway, I stood there and fired away, breaking off curves and firing bee-bees. Every twenty pitches, I would rest for about ten minutes as if I had completed an inning and my team was batting. I wanted to simulate real-game conditions as much as possible. After having pitched three innings (60 pitches), I began to feel a twinge in my shoulder, but I continued on. After eighty pitches, my shoulder really began to ache and my elbow felt as if it was on fire; but I kept at it because I was determined to complete my experiment. On the eighty-sixth pitch I heard a loud pop in my elbow accompanied by a sharp pain and I had to stop. I could no longer lift my right arm above my waist without experiencing excruciating pain and I fell to the ground in tears. So, the neighbor kid ran home and got my wife so she could take me to the emergency room. I am scheduled for Tommy John surgery in a couple of weeks.

So what did my great experiment prove? Precisely this: Fifty-year-old men should be on pitch counts.

» Frank Mucci is a life-long Cub fan who has been dreaming of a World Series for over 40 years. He believes that dream will come true some time this century.

» More submissions