Reel Games

I've been watching a lot of video of myself from when I was pitching with Chicago. Not that I feel like I can pitch with that velocity ever again, but I did have a very fluid pitching motion. It was so loose. Somewhere along the way, I developed this herky jerky style near the end of my windup that gave me incredible results but I think caused too much stress on my elbow. Thus, BOOM! No more elbow. I'm hoping watching old "home movies" will help bring me back to the days when I didn't need to worry so much about getting hurt.

I've pitched in two live games now. That puts me ahead of schedule. The problem is I've only pitched an inning in each. My arm strength is pretty much there. My head is on the way. I'll admit it, I get concerned that my elbow will act up and either explode again or cause me just enough pain to turn me into a scared, ineffective pitcher.

Those guys exist, and have existed my whole career, the guys who get hurt and can't come back all the way because they remember the pain too well and don't want to go through it all again. It's an unfair analogy to our military, but one guy once told me coming back from a major injury had to feel like going back to Iraq or Vietnam for another tour of duty. You never know when something's going to come out of the shadows or up from the sand and end it all for you.

As for me, I started meditation last week. Since Dr. Cohegans is suing me, he won't help me with my head, so I bought some new age music CDs and sit with the headphones on in the whirlpool, eyes closed (to block out the Cartoon Channel on the TV hanging from the wall). I try to put myself in a game, mentally, then throw to batters with the soft, gentle motion of my youth that I've memorized from the films. I throw again and again until I feel natural, until the motion is like breathing, involuntary.

I guess it's working. In my two "real" innings, I've faced six batters and gotten six outs. It was strange pitching the ninth inning yesterday. Normal closer Billy Weston had a stiff middle finger on his pitching hand and couldn't throw, so they juggled things and put me there. I pretended it was Game 7 of the World Championship Series and we had a one-run lead. It was fun. Three up, three down. Hit 89 on the gun once too.

The plan is for me to not throw at all today, then long toss again on Wednesday. Maybe I can get into another game Thursday or Friday and extend myself a little. Slowly, I'll get up to 3, then 4, then 5, 6 and hopefully 7 innings. By the first week in May, I should be in the rotation.

Until then, I'll stay behind in Florida for a week before heading to Nashville. Since I'll be on schedule to pitch every fifth day, I'll be a commuter, meaning I'll fly into Nashville (or wherever we're going to play) the night before I pitch and fly home the next morning. That way, I get to stay with the big club and still see my family (there's no way I'll be able to convince the girls to stay with me in Nashville for a month, even though it would probably be a positive influence on Alyssa's guitar playing).

I've come a long way since December, when I began to rehab in earnest. I'm proud of the hard work I put in and pleasantly surprised at how my body responded. I can sense, maybe through my meditation, that surprisingly good things are coming my way, and the team's way too. The season starts in two weeks. The countdown has begun.