by Marc Carig
For as long as he can remember, A.J. Burnett has been bombarded by pitching coaches who have hounded him with the same message: true pitching is more than relying on the power of 98-mph soul-crushers. For years, as they'd drone on about the virtues of the ground ball, of pitching to contact, of conserving pitches, he'd feign attention.
Then, he'd take the mound and pitch as if he'd never heard the advice.
Not only did he want to get batters out. He wanted to humiliate them. So Burnett would reach back and blow them away, taking great delight when his fastballs lit up radar guns in the triple digits.
He paid a heavy toll for this recklessness, the full measure of which can be found with a cursory review of Burnett's career injury report: 10 trips to the disabled list for shoulder, elbow and hand maladies. Right elbow surgery cost him nearly all of one season, and parts of another. Since breaking in with the Florida Marlins in 1999, Burnett has been one of the most talented pitchers in the major leagues. But he has also come to be known as one of the most brittle.
This, he said, is what motivated him to change, understanding that groundouts count the same as strikeouts. No more overthrowing. No more fastballs for fastball's sake. Finally.
"Took me eight years," he said. "Obviously, my way didn't work. It was time to listen."
This much is certain: Burnett went 18-10 last year for the Toronto Blue Jays mostly because he avoided missing significant time to injury. With promise and production aligned, he netted a five-year, $82.5 million contract to join the Yankees. But whether Burnett has actually changed -- and whether he will deliver a second consecutive banner season -- remains a mystery.
While he has tried to emulate Blue Jays ace and former teammate Roy Halladay, a model of efficiency who routinely gets quick outs by inducing contact, Burnett, 32, has statistically remained the same power pitcher he's always been.
Burnett's pitches per plate appearance the past two seasons have hovered near his career average of 3.79, and batters have made contact 75 percent of the time (down from 81 percent his first two seasons).
Perhaps most stunning is that, despite a more tempered approach, Burnett's strikeout numbers are higher than ever. In the past two seasons, his strikeouts per nine innings was a career-high 9.6 in 2007 and 9.4 last season -- meaning he's missing more bats than ever.
"You start trying to strike out less and you strike out more," he said. "It's weird, but that's just how the game works sometimes. But my control is better, obviously. And I've got a better idea of what I'm doing out there."
Those around Burnett have noticed.
"He used to just go out there and throw," said Yankees outfielder Johnny Damon, who lobbied the team to pursue Burnett in the offseason, mostly because he hated facing him as an opponent. "Now he's pitching, learning how to move the ball. He's definitely gotten better the last couple of years. He's smarter with his pitches. Yeah, he's striking guys out because he's still nasty. But he knows how to stay away from you, too."
Rich Dubee, the Marlins pitching coach from 1998-2000, said the most obvious change in Burnett has been his ability to resist the temptation to overthrow.
"He's just starting to become more familiar with that, and understanding he can get deeper into games and stay healthy and be more successful by pitching under control," said Dubee, now the pitching coach for the Philadelphia Phillies. "He doesn't need to be pure power."
Burnett, who also throws an excellent curveball and a changeup, has started to be more mindful about the type of exercises he's doing to stay in shape in between starts. His fitness programs are more monitored and structured than in the past.
As Yankees general manager Brian Cashman worked from his fourth-floor office at Steinbrenner Field recently, he caught a glimpse of a player jogging up and down the empty stands of the stadium on his off day. As the person moved around the entire stadium, Cashman's curiosity grew and he picked up a pair of binoculars.
"I saw the tattoos," Cashman said. "It was A.J. Burnett."
Regardless of the stats, Burnett can say with certainty he is at least making an effort to change, which is more than could be said about his earlier years. In the seasons after the fire sale following the 1997 World Series, the Marlins filled their roster with inexperienced players such as Burnett, whether they were ready or not.
And when Burnett got in trouble, Dubee said he reverted to his comfort zone and just threw as hard as he could.
"We've had a lot of knockdown, drag-out fights about it," Dubee said.
Even when he was at his best, Burnett could be maddening and stubbornly attached to this best pitch. During his 2001 no-hitter against the San Diego Padres, Burnett walked nine batters. More remarkably, of the 128 pitches he threw against the Padres that night, 123 were fastballs.
Those days, Burnett promises, are over. Still, he sometimes offers reminders that the flame-thrower within is never too far away.
The best example came during his first spring training start this year. He was shocked when he threw one of his fastballs and the stadium gun read 98.
"Really?" he said. "I didn't mean to. I was just trying to be easy."
Then, he'd take the mound and pitch as if he'd never heard the advice.
Not only did he want to get batters out. He wanted to humiliate them. So Burnett would reach back and blow them away, taking great delight when his fastballs lit up radar guns in the triple digits.
He paid a heavy toll for this recklessness, the full measure of which can be found with a cursory review of Burnett's career injury report: 10 trips to the disabled list for shoulder, elbow and hand maladies. Right elbow surgery cost him nearly all of one season, and parts of another. Since breaking in with the Florida Marlins in 1999, Burnett has been one of the most talented pitchers in the major leagues. But he has also come to be known as one of the most brittle.
This, he said, is what motivated him to change, understanding that groundouts count the same as strikeouts. No more overthrowing. No more fastballs for fastball's sake. Finally.
"Took me eight years," he said. "Obviously, my way didn't work. It was time to listen."
This much is certain: Burnett went 18-10 last year for the Toronto Blue Jays mostly because he avoided missing significant time to injury. With promise and production aligned, he netted a five-year, $82.5 million contract to join the Yankees. But whether Burnett has actually changed -- and whether he will deliver a second consecutive banner season -- remains a mystery.
While he has tried to emulate Blue Jays ace and former teammate Roy Halladay, a model of efficiency who routinely gets quick outs by inducing contact, Burnett, 32, has statistically remained the same power pitcher he's always been.
Burnett's pitches per plate appearance the past two seasons have hovered near his career average of 3.79, and batters have made contact 75 percent of the time (down from 81 percent his first two seasons).
Perhaps most stunning is that, despite a more tempered approach, Burnett's strikeout numbers are higher than ever. In the past two seasons, his strikeouts per nine innings was a career-high 9.6 in 2007 and 9.4 last season -- meaning he's missing more bats than ever.
"You start trying to strike out less and you strike out more," he said. "It's weird, but that's just how the game works sometimes. But my control is better, obviously. And I've got a better idea of what I'm doing out there."
Those around Burnett have noticed.
"He used to just go out there and throw," said Yankees outfielder Johnny Damon, who lobbied the team to pursue Burnett in the offseason, mostly because he hated facing him as an opponent. "Now he's pitching, learning how to move the ball. He's definitely gotten better the last couple of years. He's smarter with his pitches. Yeah, he's striking guys out because he's still nasty. But he knows how to stay away from you, too."
Rich Dubee, the Marlins pitching coach from 1998-2000, said the most obvious change in Burnett has been his ability to resist the temptation to overthrow.
"He's just starting to become more familiar with that, and understanding he can get deeper into games and stay healthy and be more successful by pitching under control," said Dubee, now the pitching coach for the Philadelphia Phillies. "He doesn't need to be pure power."
Burnett, who also throws an excellent curveball and a changeup, has started to be more mindful about the type of exercises he's doing to stay in shape in between starts. His fitness programs are more monitored and structured than in the past.
As Yankees general manager Brian Cashman worked from his fourth-floor office at Steinbrenner Field recently, he caught a glimpse of a player jogging up and down the empty stands of the stadium on his off day. As the person moved around the entire stadium, Cashman's curiosity grew and he picked up a pair of binoculars.
"I saw the tattoos," Cashman said. "It was A.J. Burnett."
Regardless of the stats, Burnett can say with certainty he is at least making an effort to change, which is more than could be said about his earlier years. In the seasons after the fire sale following the 1997 World Series, the Marlins filled their roster with inexperienced players such as Burnett, whether they were ready or not.
And when Burnett got in trouble, Dubee said he reverted to his comfort zone and just threw as hard as he could.
"We've had a lot of knockdown, drag-out fights about it," Dubee said.
Even when he was at his best, Burnett could be maddening and stubbornly attached to this best pitch. During his 2001 no-hitter against the San Diego Padres, Burnett walked nine batters. More remarkably, of the 128 pitches he threw against the Padres that night, 123 were fastballs.
Those days, Burnett promises, are over. Still, he sometimes offers reminders that the flame-thrower within is never too far away.
The best example came during his first spring training start this year. He was shocked when he threw one of his fastballs and the stadium gun read 98.
"Really?" he said. "I didn't mean to. I was just trying to be easy."
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