The Reinvention of Mike Mussina

A look at the difference a year makes in the career of one of the most successful active pitchers.

Ask any pitcher. Every one of them, from high school to the “show” will tell you there exists a prevailing axiom that defines greatness. For any five starts, a pitcher is bound to have one start where he has absolutely nothing: it’s impossible to locate the fastball, the breaking ball hangs, the change up is garbage. Along that same vein, in those five starts, there will be one where nothing can go wrong—the fastball pops, the breaking ball dives, all the hard hit balls travel right to a fielder. Therefore, what defines a pitcher is how he battles through those other three games.

But here’s the big question, what do you do when you have pitched in the Major Leagues for seventeen years and your best stuff is no longer that great? A few years ago, your fastball jumped at speeds of 91 or 92 mph. Your breaking ball was sharp, it looked like that fastball, and at the last moment, it would dive into the dirt. Only two years ago, you averaged 7.85 strikeouts per nine innings. Now that rate has dropped by almost three strikeouts to 5.09. Batters swing and connect with pitches on which they used to whiff. That was the dilemma that faced Mike Mussina as late as April 17 ^th this season. Mussina had just pitched back-to-back stinkers against the Red Sox. In those two starts, he had gone just eight total innings and allowed nine earned runs on fifteen hits and three homeruns—all hit by prolific Yankee-killer Manny Ramirez.

On April 12 ^th Mussina had cruised into the bottom of the sixth inning, his only real hiccup having come off the bat of Ramirez in the fourth. In the sixth with the Yankees leading 2-1, Manny again strode to the plate, this time with Jacoby Ellsbury leading off third and Dustin Pedroia off second. At that time, Ramirez was a .280 hitter with seven home runs—one of which had come earlier in the day. The prevailing wisdom said to walk Ramirez and go after the slumping Kevin Youkilis. Without a doubt, the game hinged on what came next. Even sitting at home, I could see the pride and stubbornness necessary to being an elite Major League pitcher for seventeen years overwhelm Mussina. I could almost read his thoughts, “I’m Mike f—ing Mussina, I don’t walk the best hitter on the other team, and I certainly don’t pitch around him.” Mussina got two quick strikes, and then, inevitably threw a breaking ball on the outside part of the plate that Ramirez belted into the left center field gap. When the dust had settled, the Yankees trailed 3-2, Ramirez stood triumphantly on second (I’m pretty sure he did a cartwheel after he swung), and Mussina had been replaced by reliever Brian Bruney.

A year ago, a start by Mussina seemed interminable. He would quickly jump out to a two strike count on most hitters, and then, as if unsure what to do next; he would nibble around the plate. On close pitches that he did not get, he would stare in at umpires aghast that they would dare make such an awful call. When batters did not swing at that 1-2 knuckle-curve in the dirt, he would look defeated, as though he had not planned for such an occasion. Ultimately, he would walk the batter, and would never recover. Think Nuke LaLoosh before he got a chance to hang out with Crash Davis and the always frightening Susan Sarandon; now add a full two minutes between pitches, and subtract the 98-100 mph fastball and the whole ‘throwing like a girl’ thing. That was Mike Mussina in 2007.

Now here we sit, on June 9, 2008. The Yankees are a disappointing 32-31. However, if not for Mussina, that record could be much worse. Coming into his start today, in which–as I write this–Mussina has thrown eight innings and allowed only two earned runs, Mussina was 9-4 with a 4.01 ERA. Over the past few months, there has been a change in Mike Mussina. He has come to the realization that, as the swing and miss percentage of his opponents has dropped, he can no longer rear back and rely on stuff alone. Perhaps the most marked difference this year is that Mussina simply is pitching to contact. Watch one of his starts. He works quickly, throws a ton of strikes, and lets his defense do his work for him. Most importantly, he has mastered that back-up fastball. Where last season, Mussina would throw a fastball on the outside to a right-handed hitter or the inside to a lefty and the ball would drift back over the middle of the plate towards the barrel of the bat; this year, he has shown the ability to start that pitch way off the plate and have it run right over the corner. Lefty and righty batters freeze thinking the pitch is a ball, only to dejectedly walk back to the dugout a few moments later.

There is a moment in the always underrated film Rookie of the Year, where Gary Busey tells that kid from American Pie, “Don’t take this game too seriously, Henry. One day, your gift will be gone.” Last season, Mike Mussina lost his stuff. His fastball was slower; the breaking ball less sharp, and everything he threw was hit hard. Nevertheless, Mussina did what any consummate professional must do in order to succeed—he adjusted. He developed an incredibly slow curve, worked on that running two-seam fastball, and changed the way he approaches hitters. Watch a Mussina start; you will see opponents off balance, frustrated that they could not center an 86 mph fastball. In a season where Ian Kennedy and Phil Hughes are looking like busts, Chien Ming Wang has suddenly forgotten how to throw a strike, and Andy Pettitte seems to have aged a good six to twelve years, Mussina has been a welcome revelation.