Craig Mitchell - Mitchell's Musings

 

Mitchell’s Musings

KEVIN PILLAR HBP….

I’m sure I’m not the only person to be affected by Kevin Pillar’s beaning on Monday. But the sickening feeling still lingers for me. Beaning's like that are rare, but common enough that it seems to have

happened at least a few times a season around the league. It was a scant few weeks ago that Bryce Harper was hit in the face actually. As Pillar said to Jacob Webb on Tuesday afternoon, It’s part of the game. Baseball has done what it can, and I suspect will continue to do what it can to protect players from errant fastballs. As Met announcer Ron Darling and others have speculated, with the dramatically increased pitch velocity baseball is commanding and breeding, this will happen more frequently. Boy, I hope not. I can’t remember the last time I saw a HBP that was more graphic than Pillar's. My mind drifts to when Roger Clemens nailed Mike Piazza on the helmet. After that my

mind has flashes of memory of others I witnessed but not really anything specific. Personally, I can totally relate. When I was 17 I went to the “Hall of Fame” baseball camp in Pennsylvania. I was a decent player and this four week camp was a chance to play with some very, very good players my own age. Some with MLB aspirations. There was one kid, his name totally escapes me, but he threw nearly 90 mph. He was a stud pitcher and scouts from the Texas Rangers came to camp to watch him pitch. The camp was divided into two teams to play an exhibition game for them. I was on the team opposing this flamethrower. Our side was comprised of everybody left in camp. We numbered 15 players and even if we didn’t play the field we batted. I batted 11^th. Well this kid smoked through our line-up. No one had a clue or a hit. When I came up I decided my only chance was to start my swing when his arm pulled back. I did. With that one swing I ended his streak of 10 straight with a line single to right-center. I was stunned. My team was stunned. On my return to the bench I was met by the “stud” hitter of the camp. He was always teasing me prior to this because I had crappy equipment and was obviously a “Loser” to him. He very seriously grabbed me by the shoulders and said; “You’re a F***ing good hitter!” I was blown away. I still remember the feeling of elation. It didn't last very long. The flamethrower was embarrassed. I suppose getting the first hit off him and blemishing his record in front of a scouts was unforgivable in his mind. When I came up again, and I honestly don’t remember how he did the second time through the line up, he planted a fastball directly into my helmet.  I fell to the ground at the plate moaning and semi-conscious. To be honest I don't remember getting hit or falling at all. First thing I remember I was writhing in the dirt at home plate. I was holding my head moaning “Ow, Ow...Ow.” I was so out of  it, I didn't realize I was wearing a helmet. I thought my head was swollen. I was holding the helmet which probably saved my life or prevented serious injury. I concluded later than I  lost consciousness for a split second or so. I remember being in a fog which can best be compared to how I felt when I awoke in the recovery room after my having my gallbladder removed. My parents paid a lot of money to send me to that camp. I was there with friend from home too. I remember hearing laughter. He was laughing, my friend! Some of the other players were laughing. Most alarmingly, the coaches were laughing. What was funny? I later figured out they didn't realize the enormous impact I had just survived. If this were a Bugs Bunny cartoon there would have been little stars and birds twirling around my head. So they laughed. I could forgive the players, even my friend. But the coaches? No. Eventually they got me to my feet and told me to go see the nurse. I staggered alone through the infield and outfield to the dorms, where a totally unprepared woman gave me some aspirin and told me to take a nap. Thankfully I was smart enough NOT to nap as I realized I probably had a low grade concussion.

All that came flooding back to me when Kevin Pillar got hit on Monday. When I saw how badly he was bleeding I thought of Tony Conigliaro. I remember the black and white footage of when he got hit. I remember the picture of him in a hospital bed with the largest and nastiest black eye I have ever seen and I remember how the beaning pretty much ended his career. Chilling. I also thought of a passage from Ron Luciano’s autobiography “The Umpire Strikes

Back.” Luciano was behind the plate when Paul Blair was hit by the Angels Ken Tatum on May 31^st 1970. Luciano remembered the sound of the impact. Blair was wearing a helmet. (The old style with no ear flaps.) Luciano said it sounded like someone hitting a melon with a bat. Blair recovered and played for 10 more years but was never the same player.

My thoughts are with Kevin Pillar. No one was laughing Monday. Tuesday there was laughing when he entered the Mets clubhouse looking like he went 10 rounds with Clubber Lang and asked “So am I in the lineup?” Good for Kevin. I am relieved he is OK and will probably go on and be fine. But if you ask me, all players should wear that helmet extension that covers most of the face and jaw. Please. Before something much worse happens.