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Nats See Pitching Growth On Farm
"We are knocking on the door with pitching. And let's be honest, it's the hardest thing to do," said team president Stan Kasten, left, with Nationals principal owner Mark Lerner.
(By Jonathan Newton -- The Washington Post)
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"They have a few arms," another said. "But to say pitching is the one thing in their organization that's the best they've got coming, I don't see it. I hate to be so critical. I almost feel bad now. I want to say something positive. . . . I wonder why they don't have that one guy in the organization who can come in and strike fear into major league hitters."
Still, same as development defies predictability, pitchers often defy projections, and Zimmermann's lifestyle indicates as much. The basics of his daily existence are based on the assumption that Harrisburg is just a stopping point -- same as low Class A Vermont was last year and Class A Potomac earlier this season. In Harrisburg, where Zimmermann has a 4-2 record and a 3.45 ERA, he lives with a host family. His bags remain half-packed, ready for the next stop.
When Zimmermann -- with a Midwesterner's plain-spokenness -- talks about his rise since high school, he sees specific benchmarks; his improvement has a numerical tangibility. Even as a senior in high school, his velocity never topped 87 mph. One Division I school, the University of Minnesota, sent Zimmermann a letter expressing vague interest and promising coaches would keep an eye on him. He never heard another word. Without better options, Zimmermann decided to attend Division III Wisconsin-Stevens Point, whose coach's recruiting pitch included the assessment that Zimmermann, within one or two years, could develop into the Pointers' "number one or number two pitcher."
"It sounded like a good opportunity," Zimmermann said.
In college, following a self-taught program of weight training, Zimmermann built lower-body strength. Then, he studied major leaguers' mechanics, and tried to convert himself from a thrower into a pitcher. His fastball benefited. It hit 90 as a freshman, 91 as a sophomore, 93 as a junior. When scouts started attending Zimmermann's games, he realized -- for the first time -- that he had a future as a professional baseball player, not a Wisconsin businessman.
"I think just getting in the weight room was the biggest thing," he recalled this week. "We didn't even have a pitching coach. Well -- we had a pitching coach, but it was like a senior who graduated the year before and just stuck around and helped out."
On Monday, after his seven innings, Zimmermann returned to his team's bunker-level clubhouse, sat on a folding chair and wrapped his arm in ice. Already, his start had been translated into a currency applicable to the future. The team had dispatched a report to Washington's front office on the pitches Zimmermann had thrown -- how many fastballs, how many sliders, how many strikes.
"If he has another good outing," Stearns said, "I wouldn't be surprised to see him move up [to Washington]. This organization is really in an exciting place right now. I know that's hard to believe with the big league club not winning. But down here we're all going: 'Holy cow. We've got some things going.' "
