Two Hall of Fame also-rans

Today is the deadline for those members of the BBWAA who vote for the Hall of Fame to submit their ballots, and therefore the likely end of the Hall of Fame candidacies of two former Twins pitchers, Brad Radke and Terry Mulholland.

Terry Mulholland was just
getting started in 1987, when
the back of his card said he
had an off-season job as a
gas-station attendant. Really.

Anybody who merely makes a major league roster, even for a day, is a player of rare ability, and those who last the 10 years required to make the HoF ballot are rarer still. Mulholland pitched 20 years in the bigs, two of them for Minnesota; Radke pitched his entire 12-season career for the Twins. Both last pitched during the 2006 season, which made them eligible for the ballot this winter. Neither will (or should) draw enough support to remain on the ballot next year, much less win induction.

Still, I find myself as a Twins fan missing both of them.

Radke in particular. Whenever he makes an appearance in Minnesota I wonder how his shoulder feels after a few years off. It's a silly notion, of course; he's not walking through that door. But still ...

Radke was the anti-Liriano. Right-handed, not blessed with a high-velocity fastball or devastating slider, but adept with the circle change and a master of control -- not only in the sense of locating his pitches but of mastery of his emotions. He might win or he might lose, but Radke was not a pitcher who beat himself. He kept it simple, trusted his stuff and wound up with the third most wins in Twins history.

Mulholland was a baseball nomad. Twenty seasons and 11 teams pitched for. He made 88 appearances in his two seasons with the Twins, and that's the third most he made (behind Philadelphia and the Cubs).

Mulholland showed up in Minnesota for the 2004 season, already age 41, and was, for the first half of the season, a long reliever and mop-up man. In the second half, he was the fifth starter -- 15 starts for the season, in which he went 4-5 with a 4.95 ERA. The Twins were 8-7 in his starts. Not great, but good enough for the back of the rotation.

He was back in 2005, but Ron Gardenhire must have seen something missing, because Mulholland got no starts and few game situations to pitch in. The Twins cut him loose after 2005, and he made five appearances with Arizona, at which point the Diamondbacks released him. That was it.

Radke walked away from the mound because his shoulder was frayed beyond endurance. Mulholland pitched as long as anybody would have him. I applaud both.

Wimmers, Radke and the Twins philosophy

Alex Wimmers it is.

From the Baseball America scouting report on the Twins' first round pick (subscription only):

...Few pitchers in this draft can match the depth of his repertoire. He has the best changeup in the 2010 draft crop, and one area scout said it's the best he has ever seen from an amateur. His fastball sits at 90-92 mph and touches 94, and he could add a little more velocity if he builds arm strength by using it more in pro ball. His third pitch is a curveball that he easily throws for strikes. He's an athletic, 6-foot-2, 195-pounder who holds the record for career batting average (.457) at Cincinnati's storied Moeller High--the alma mater of Buddy Bell, Ken Griffey Jr. and Barry Larkin.

Brad Radke is the quick comp for Wimmers, and that seems almost too easy. Really, Radke is the mold for the organization's starters, at least the right-handers; at one point or another, I've cited Radke as the comp for Scott Baker, Kevin Slowey and Nick Blackburn as they made their way to the Minnesota rotation, and Carl Pavano is probably more Radke-like than any of the other three.

Radke is the personification of the strengths and limitations of the Twins pitching philosophy: Throw strikes, change speeds, keep it simple. I linked this spring to a New York Times piece in which career backup catcher Chad Moeller talked about what he's learned from handling various pitchers, and this is him on Radke:

Wouldn’t walk anybody, never had a concern that he was going to. Didn’t try to throw balls by guys, and he just caught on at an earlier age than most guys do about what pitching actually is. Everything went away from the plate. Guys have watched Greg Maddux; they all want their ball to look like it’s going at them and come this way, over the plate. He just wanted to have everything going away from the middle of the plate. I’d say, ‘Brad, what do you want to do today?’ He’d say: “Get outs. Just put it down, I’ll throw it.” That was it. I was a rookie. All right, let’s go.

I mentioned a few days ago a Jerry Crasnick piece in Baseball America about the Twins pitching approach, and he has Rick Anderson hitting the same point:

Twins pitchers focus on on keeping the ball low and down the middle, with the understanding that natural movement and variations in deliveries will carry it away from the heart of the plate.

Crasnick goes on to suggest that the lack of true power arms works against the Twins in October. If that's a concern for the organization, it's a chance they're willing to take.

The Twins and the circle change

A digression from Monday's print column:

The Twins have had no shortage of success with pitchers relying on the circle change (seen above).

Frank Viola won the World Series MVP in 1987 and the Cy Young in 1988 with the circle change as his out pitch. Johan Santana won two Cy Young awards, in 2004 and 2006, with the circle change as his out pitch. (Should have won the Cy in 2005 as well.) Brad Radke never got a Cy Young (nor did he deserve to), but his 148 career wins are third most for a Twins pitcher.

Combined, those three went 353-276 as Twins.

That kind of success breeds imitators. The Twins are known today for a pitching staff modeled on Radke: unimpressive fastballs, but good to great command of that pitch — and the willingness to change speeds on it. And the first change up the minor leaguers are taught is almost certainly the circle change.

It has certain advantages over other change ups. Perhaps most important, it has a reverse curve break. (As mentioned in the Monday print column, Warren Spahn's "screwball" was probably the circle change.) So it not only messes with the hitter's timing, it's moving on multiple planes as well.

Not that it works for everybody. Eddie Guardado, for example, uses a palmball, or four-finger change. It was a very good change up, strong enough to make a top-flight closer out of a guy with subpar fastball velocity.

Carlos Silva tried a number of different change ups and, by the end of his Twins career, appeared to have settled on a splitter/forkball.

Silva's pitch went through a variety of names. When he broke it out in training camp 2007, he was calling it a split-fingered fastball. Then it became a forkball, then simply a change. I suspect that was because the Twins organization frowns on the splitter, fearing elbow injuries, and didn't want minor league pitchers arguing Silva throws it, why can't I. (It's worth noting, too, that Silva, who had been quite durable with the Twins, has broken down physically each of the last two seasons since adding the splitter.)

Almost all change up grips start with the idea of holding the ball deeper in the hand. Fastballs and curves are gripped between the thumb and the first two fingers, with the ring and little fingers tucked out of the way. Whether the change is a circle change, a palmball, a forkball or some other variation, it's held deeper, and often brings a third or fourth finger into play.

There have been a number of legendary change-up artists — guys who threw almost nothing but change ups, guys known for changing speeds on their change ups. Jean Dubuc. Eddie Lopat. Stu Miller. Doug Jones. Allan Anderson, who won the AL ERA title with the Twins in 1988 and followed with a 17-10 season the next year. Jamie Moyer. I suspect a number of them mastered multiple change ups. A circle change here, a palmball there, maybe Paul Richards' "slip pitch" — a variation of the palmball — and suddenly one has an entire repertoire of pitches not thrown hard enough to bruise a peach.