Eddie Lopat a Young boys Mentor--Pt #2 of 3
There were differing views of his pitching motion. Some said he looked like a robot or a wind-up doll in need of some WD-40. Others described his delivery as smooth, easy, stylish. Most used the same word to characterize it: deceptive. Williams, when asked to name the five toughest pitchers he had faced, placed Eddie Lopat at the head of the list.
“The Junkman gives them a little of this and a little of that – but nothing good and very little they will wrap up and bring home”. A frustrated batter complained “Ya could stand up here for a week and not see anything ya want!”
Lopat once told Allie Reynolds, “Take four pitches – the fast ball, the curve, the slider and the screwball. Now throw these at different speeds and you have 12 pitches. Next, throw each of these 12 pitches with a long-armed or short-armed motion, and you have 24 pitches.” He neglected to mention what you would have if you threw them with different arm angles, overhand, three-quarters and sidearm: 72 pitches.
And he kept adding new ones. In 1953 he unveiled the “slip pitch,” a variation on the palm ball taught by White Sox manager Paul Richards. And what was that pitch? “Get a knuckleball grip,” the lefthander explained, “and throw the slider with it.”
“The Junkman gives them a little of this and a little of that – but nothing good and very little they will wrap up and bring home”. A frustrated batter complained “Ya could stand up here for a week and not see anything ya want!”
Lopat once told Allie Reynolds, “Take four pitches – the fast ball, the curve, the slider and the screwball. Now throw these at different speeds and you have 12 pitches. Next, throw each of these 12 pitches with a long-armed or short-armed motion, and you have 24 pitches.” He neglected to mention what you would have if you threw them with different arm angles, overhand, three-quarters and sidearm: 72 pitches.
And he kept adding new ones. In 1953 he unveiled the “slip pitch,” a variation on the palm ball taught by White Sox manager Paul Richards. And what was that pitch? “Get a knuckleball grip,” the lefthander explained, “and throw the slider with it.”
113-59 record with the Yankees.
In 1945 I met him and he showed me his new pitch “Slip Pitch”. Changed my hand position for my Change and Curve…worked very very well but, never got the hang of the “Slip Pitch”. One thing I really liked about him was…we were the same type of pitcher…so-so fastball, great control/command, very good “Junk”! I used two arm slots…over the top and side arm, he used six (counting the short/long). He was one of the best Junk Ball pitchers ever…and one of my heroes!
Eddie Lopat didn’t automatically get respect, the way a Bob Feller or Nolan Ryan does. His stuff just wasn’t impressive, even when it was working — which was almost always. Eddie had to earn his respect, every time out, because his pitches did just enough to get batters out, and no more. Perhaps his background as a hitter (his first few years in the minors were as a first-baseman) enabled him to better understand hitter’s weaknesses, but for whatever reason, he was able to consistently find and exploit weaknesses — particularly against the Cleveland Indians.
Eddie “The Junkman” Lopat relished his nickname because he wanted batters to underestimate him. Lopat had never been fast and constantly used self-deprecation to cover his mastery of a team after beating them.
In 1945 I met him and he showed me his new pitch “Slip Pitch”. Changed my hand position for my Change and Curve…worked very very well but, never got the hang of the “Slip Pitch”. One thing I really liked about him was…we were the same type of pitcher…so-so fastball, great control/command, very good “Junk”! I used two arm slots…over the top and side arm, he used six (counting the short/long). He was one of the best Junk Ball pitchers ever…and one of my heroes!
Eddie Lopat didn’t automatically get respect, the way a Bob Feller or Nolan Ryan does. His stuff just wasn’t impressive, even when it was working — which was almost always. Eddie had to earn his respect, every time out, because his pitches did just enough to get batters out, and no more. Perhaps his background as a hitter (his first few years in the minors were as a first-baseman) enabled him to better understand hitter’s weaknesses, but for whatever reason, he was able to consistently find and exploit weaknesses — particularly against the Cleveland Indians.
Eddie “The Junkman” Lopat relished his nickname because he wanted batters to underestimate him. Lopat had never been fast and constantly used self-deprecation to cover his mastery of a team after beating them.
In 1954, the year that Cleveland won a record 111 games, Lopat beat them five times. It got so bad that Cleveland sold rabbit’s feet on the nights that Lopat pitched. Once, after Eddie had won 11 straight against the Tribe, a Cleveland fan ran onto the field and hurled a black cat at Lopat. Eddie caught the frightened cat, cuddled it a bit, handed it to an usher, and went on to beat Cleveland for the 12th time in a row.
The Tribe is a slugging team — it’s as much a part of their identity now as it was then. Free-swinging and powerful. Eddie The Junkman tossed them his Nothing Ball, his assortment of slow curves and slop curves, his wide variety of change-ups, and he allowed the Indians to get themselves out. He merely gave them enough rope. They took care of the hangings.
The Tribe is a slugging team — it’s as much a part of their identity now as it was then. Free-swinging and powerful. Eddie The Junkman tossed them his Nothing Ball, his assortment of slow curves and slop curves, his wide variety of change-ups, and he allowed the Indians to get themselves out. He merely gave them enough rope. They took care of the hangings.
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