There is no balance point
There is no balance point
There is NO balance point
It’s funny how simple things can be. You battle to find the right words to explain a complex action to a kid.
And all it takes is one sentence.
There are a lot of myths in baseball. They’re dark clouds hanging over the park like vultures.
One of the worst is Balance Point. Coaches teach it all the time. They were taught balance point by their coach, who learned it from his coach 40 years ago, who picked it up from his coach when Burleigh Grimes was tossing spitters.
Balance Point is hanging over the rubber at the top of your delivery. And it’s as destructive as putting diesel into your Civic gas tank.
“Burleigh, you just can’t keep spitting like that, it’s unsanitary.”
Watch Jacob DeGrom
I see it all the time. Kids with good arms being taught to come to a standstill and deep six any chance they have to be a power pitcher. Hanging over the rubber stops all your momentum cold in its tracks. You run into a brick wall. If you were drag racing would you floor it, then take your foot off the pedal, wait five seconds, and pop it again?
I’ve never taught Balance Point. But I certainly teach balance. To have command you need control of your whole body throughout your whole delivery. If your knee raise is helter skelter and you’re wobbling around like a drunk on skates you have as much chance of throwing strikes as a Sumo wrestler has of riding in the Kentucky Derby.
But there is no Balance Point. None. Zero. Power pitchers have known that since Sam the Caveman threw his first no-hitter against T-Rex.
Never stop your momentum.
Jacob DeGrom is a lanky, skinny young guy who throws BB’s. Take a good look at his delivery. He starts to drive forward slightly before his knee hits the top. He’s revving his momentum, generating power, blasting off. This is the trademark of power pitchers like Jordan Hicks, who has topped out at 105. There’s no way DeGrom and Hicks are going to destroy their momentum by hanging over the rubber.
They Get Down the Hill. But teaching this can be dangerous.
The Delta Tigers
Last season I had the pleasure of coaching with Cam Frick’s Delta Tigers, the best bantam team in the country. Just a tremendous group of talented 14 and 15-year-olds who gave you everything you could ask for.
I wanted them to keep their momentum. We did some Run and Gun. Fine. But now theory had to melt into bull pens.
This gets complicated. How do you teach kids to move forward just a shade before their knee reaches its apex? I was worried they’d over think, get tied up mentally, and lose their rhythm. There was also the distinct danger they’d rush their upper body and lunge, a blueprint for a Titanic disaster.
I can never get enough of Pedro. He did so many things superbly. Total control of his body. And he’s already getting DOWN THE HILL when his knee hits the top.
We dissected mechanics with the Tigers and they were all as solid as granite. All I wanted now was to keep their momentum without them thinking about it.
It was a big problem. I mulled it over, balancing risk and reward. Then I found the solution, almost by accident. I just kept repeating one simple instruction.
“Get down the hill.”
And they did. All 14 of them. They didn’t over think. They just did it. At the top of their knee raise they were already going. Rhythm. Momentum. Leading with their hip. Never lunging. Never hanging over the rubber.
And they threw two perfect games and a no-hitter.
These kids taught me once again something I’ve always known. Never over coach. Never complicate. Keep it as simple as possible. One sentence is always better than a novel.
Just ask Hemingway.
The Delta Tigers taught Max Scherzer to get down the hill.
THE ROGER CLEMENS SUPREMACY
“If it was 95 degrees and humid, Roger would say,“
‘So what, I’ve trained for that.’ His conditioning
program was harder than the games themselves.”
–Strength coach JEFF MANGOLD
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