If you are a pitcher(Any level), a pitching coach or head coach or manager at any level, this is a MUST read. It was generated by Fred Corral who now works in development for 108 PERFORMANCE in Knoxville. LETTER FROM “THE GAME” A Message to the Pitcher Allow me to introduce myself. I’ve been around your clubhouse, your bullpen, your dugout—and most of all, your head—for a long time. I am The Game. I’ve seen better arms than yours. Harder throwers. Better stuff. More talent. More opportunity. And I’ve beaten plenty of them. Not because they weren’t good enough. Because eventually, I convinced them to stop doing what made them good. That’s how I work. I rarely beat you all at once. I beat you one decision at a time. I get you to stop preparing. I get you thinking about results instead of execution. I get you worried about velocity, mechanics, the umpire, the defense, your role, your ERA, who’s watching and what happens next. Anything that takes you away from this pitch works for me. Because I know something about pitching that sometimes you forget: You are at your best when you attack. So I try to make you defensive. You call it being careful. I call it winning. I LOVE FEAR I love when you fear contact. When you forget that most balls put in play become outs. When you start trying to avoid barrels instead of creating outs. When you nibble. When you guide. When you hope. When you try to make the perfect pitch. That’s when the hitter becomes the House. And I have you. The great ones understand: FAH: Fearlessly Attack Hitters. Not recklessly. Fearlessly. Know your weapons. Know the hitter. Know where damage lives. Know where chase lives. Then make your pitch with conviction. Be the House. Establish the terms. I LOVE 1–0 Want to know one of my favorite counts? 1–0. Because the only path to 0–2 runs through 0–1. So I whisper: Be careful. Feel your way into the at-bat. Don’t give him anything too good. Then you’re 1–0. Then 2–0. And suddenly you’re throwing what he wants instead of what you want. That’s why I hate pitchers who understand the value of 0–0. Win the first pitch. Win the Race to Two Strikes. Understand the 1–1 hinge. Earn leverage. Then use it. On or off in three. Put away in four. I LOVE INFORMATION, ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH IT This is one of my newer tricks. I give you numbers. Velocity. IVB. HB. VAA. Whiff rates. Chase rates. Heat maps. Count tendencies. Pitch usage. Matchups. More information than pitchers have ever possessed. And information is powerful. The man with the most information at the end wins—not the man with the most toys. But here’s how I turn your information against you: I get you to keep analyzing when it’s time to compete. I get you thinking about seven possibilities instead of committing to one. I get you chasing somebody else’s movement profile instead of understanding your own. I get you staring at the iPad instead of seeing the hitter. I turn preparation into hesitation. Paralysis by analysis. That’s when your greatest advantage becomes mine. Study everything. Learn everything. Know your arsenal. Know the hitter. Understand movement, damage, chase, counts and tendencies. Gather information until it creates clarity. Then when you step on the mound: simplify. The information has already done its job. Now trust it. See the target. Make a decision. Commit. Pitch. The smartest pitcher isn’t the one thinking about the most things when the ball leaves his hand. It’s the one who used the most information to arrive at the clearest decision. I LOVE WHEN YOU FORGET WHAT PITCHING IS Hitters are trying to create timing. Your job is to disrupt it. Pitching isn’t owning a collection of pitches. It’s making pitches work together. Front to back. Up and down. In and out. Hard and soft. Run and cut. Carry and drop. You aren’t simply moving the baseball.