A couple of F100s': It's all the pitching you'll need

By Bob Otto/Yucaipa, CA

I spotted it along County Line road on my way home from my morning coffee at Uncle Ray's Donut shop in Calimesa. The baby-blue Ford F100 seemed to eye me as I slowly drove by, imploring me to turn around. I finally did.

It had a "For Sale" sign taped to its side window: 1967 Ford F100, straight six, three-speed manual transmission, tow package, heavy-duty radiator, strong runner.

Clean, it was very clean. And solid. It's ironclad bumpers looked dent proof; the kind when in an accident, you wish you had. It also had two large industrial strength, side mirrors. A chrome Roadrunner proudly adorned the front of its hood; although a bit tarnished from years of travel.

This F100 would have made my dad a proud owner. "Solid," he'd have said emphatically. (And probably a bit indignantly in reference to my 'foreigner', a Toyota XtraCab crowned with a fiberglass camper shell.) "Nothing fancy, but that F100 will do the job just fine. It's a shame they don't build trucks like THIS anymore," he would have said scornfully.

This brings me to men's fastpitch softball pitchers, two types specifically: First, there's the solid, durable breed who sweat through a 40-to-50 game season. Like ironclad bumpers, they safeguard their teams in battle. Eager to take the ball, an F100 EXPECTS his name to be on the scorecard. If it isn't, he demands to know why.

And there's the other breed, those pitchers content to be a number three or four. Talented, but seldom used on the big-money teams they choose to "play" for, they don't feel solid or reliable, but along just for the free ride; accepting their role as the 'insurance policy'.

Twenty or more years a go, I believe pitchers in general were tougher. They carried their teams. If help was needed, a second pitcher was available for back-up. But your number one pitcher was strong willed, wanting help only when absolutely necessary. "He'll pitch until he drops", or "Bow your neck big fella, we're climbing on your back," commonly described these
pre-modern era pitchers.

Back then, there was no, "give us five good innings and we'll get someone loose." Instead, pitchers were expected to finish their game, and then get ready to throw again, and again.Teams weren't three and four pitchers deep. It was unheard of. No self-respecting pitcher desired to be a three or four. Ride the bench to a championship? Not on your life. These F100's would quit first. Besides, they'd rather beat the 'Fancy-Dan' than give him a high-five, or hand him a towel as he swaggers back to the dugout.

Bobby Moore placidly sit the bench? I think not. I once saw Moore (with Shenanigan's of Wisconsin) pitch five games on Sunday in the Mankato, Minn. tournament  - back in 1973, I believe, and win the championship.

The Mankato Free Press headlines read: "Moore on Sunday". Moore just got better the more he threw. Dale Root (Mankato) a number three or four? Absolutely not. Root had that 'pitch until I drop' mentality. Getting relief only when the number two man could handle a weaker opponent.

But today it's different. Nomadic creatures by nature, (as they have always been) some pitchers aren't too proud to be a number three or four. They will travel anywhere, content to sit comfortably on the bench for a championship. Content for occasional mop-up duty. Content to accept a 7-0, run-ruled win over an overmatched foe.

The former Sioux City, Iowa, Penn Corp team went three and four world-class pitchers deep. Why? If you need that many hurlers to win an ISC World Tournament title, is that something to be proud of? Is it a meaningful championship? In 1977 Reno Toyota won the World Tournament with Bob Gregory as their ace.

Fast forwarding, would Reno take the same path today, or would they get caught up in the modern era arms race too? I would hope not. I would hope that today, Gregory would say, "It's me guys, I don't need help three or four deep."

At the World Tournament, I have immense respect for the 'gutter' teams. Those teams that gut it out with one or two pitchers. They give the ball to their number one hurler over and over; game after game. Like Jim Speral of Fargo, North Dakota DMS; or Rick Lang of the Sioux Falls, South Dakota Chiefs; or as Doug Gillis does for the Midland, Michigan Explorers; and as Al Rebling performs tirelessly for the Express of Marshalltown, Iowa.

These guys most certainly would make John Madden's "All Madden" team.

They're his kind of pitchers: hardworking, blue collar types, with sweat stained uniforms, and miles of wear. 

On pitching staffs three or four deep, Madden would probably disqualify the whole crew from consideration. Too much stockpiling, not enough guts, sweat and mileage between the whole lot-of-you, he'd likely say.

It'll be interesting to see which teams stockpile pitchers in 2000. It'll also be interesting to see, whom, amongst our hurlers, from the Class C to the Open level, are content to sit on their derrieres as the number three or four guys, forsaking their pride for a possible championship. One in which they'll make scant contributions.

Give me a couple of solid F100s' willing to go the miles. It's all the pitching I'll need. And if you're a number three or four, or a team stockpiling a stable of Toyota XtraCabs, my stomach will turn.

Bob Otto
mailto:otto@discover.net