civ ollilavad wrote:Last year Kluber came to spring training following surgery on his right knee. He did it changing his daughter’s diaper.
How did he manage that?
Quiet Corey Kluber began to believe in himself, and it paid off for Cleveland Indians - Terry Pluto
on February 24, 2014 at 7:05 PM, updated February 25, 2014 at 7:30 AM
GOODYEAR, Arizona -- You're Corey Kluber and Tribe fans don't talk about you that much.
Nor does the media, which is in spring training looking for stories.
You are the quiet man behind the beard.
On the mound, you don't smile. You don't scowl.
You stare. You stare real hard.
And you tell yourself not to listen to that whisper, the one that has been the voice of doubt for years.
It's the one that tells you that your fastball averages close to 94 mph. You have lit up the radar gun at 97 mph.
But that voice tells you, "That's not good enough."
Now, you call that voice a liar.
Instead, you listen to what Mickey Callaway told you about your fastball, about the magic of a first-pitch strike.
"You don't have to be perfect," Callaway told you -- over and over.
Don't worry about painting the corners, aim for the middle of the plate, keep the ball low and "trust your stuff."
That's what happened last season, when you were 11-5 with a 3.85 ERA.
The diaper
Last spring, you didn't talk about it much.
The knee. It wasn't right.
You had surgery on November 3, 2012, to repair a torn meniscus.
How did you hurt it?
Bending over to change your eight-month old daughter's diaper. She was on the floor. You reached down, and something happened to your knee.
Big trouble.
At this time a year ago, you were in camp saying everything was OK.
"But it wasn't," said Manager Terry Francona, adding that you never said a word about it.
Later, Francona asked you why you kept silent? You could have opened the season on the Major League disabled list, instead of at Class AAA Columbus.
"I just couldn't do that," said Kluber.
You are a no-excuse, fight-your-way-through-it guy. Francona loves that about you.
The discovery
When you came up to the Tribe on April 17, you were in the bullpen. Brett Myers was in the rotation.
It turned out that Myers' elbow was like a chewed sausage. You were given a shot to start. You had two decent outings, and then were drilled for eight runs by Detroit.
At this point, you were 27. You had a 44-50 record with a 4.42 ERA in the minors. You had been up and down -- mostly down -- between Class AAA and the Tribe for three years.
Francona told you that you must use your fastball inside -- yes, even to Miguel Cabrera.
I know it's harder to stay up here (the Majors) than just get here.
Callaway was preaching the gospel of "use your fastball, throw strikes."
In the words the of the pitching coach, he was trying to "drill that into you."
But you had to ignore that whisper that insisted when you needed a big strike, throw a breaking ball.
Callaway and minor league pitching coach Ruben Niebla had convinced you to switch from throwing a four-seam fastball to throwing it with two seams, creating a pitch still in the middle 90s, only it sunk a bit and slid away from right-handed batters.
And suddenly by doing that, you not only began to win -- you threw strike after strike after strike.
By the end of the season, you were walking only 2.0 batters per nine innings -- and striking out 83.
About 77 percent of your pitches were fastballs or "cutters," that two-seamer that sliced across home plate.
And yes, you were "busting hitters inside," breaking some bats, taking command of the plate.
"You have to get that pitch in there (inside) or they'll hit it 500 feet," said Francona. "But when you do, it opens up so much."
You became the Tribe's stopper. When you took the mound after a Tribe loss, you were 5-1 with a 2.59 ERA.
Figuring it out
Last season, you threw only one wild pitch. You walked two for every nine innings.
But in 2011, you were 7-11 with a 5.56 ERA at Columbus. You heaved 12 wild pitches. You were walking nearly five batters every nine innings.
You were 25 and going nowhere.
Even last spring, no one was writing you into the rotation. Late in 2012, you pitched in 12 games for the Tribe -- and had a 5.14 ERA.
"That's why I take nothing for granted," you say. "I know it's harder to stay up here (the Majors) than just get here."
But you also know something else.
"Hitting is hard," you say. "Some hitters make it look easy, but it's hard to get hits."
That realization gave you the confidence to throw strikes, to use that fastball and cutter.
"We got Corey up to 60 percent on first-pitch strikes," Callaway said. "That's our target. He was at 66 percent on 1-and-1 (counts) being strikes. That's another of our targets. Now, he's out there with poise. He's calm. He knows how he wants to pitch. He knows he can be a guy who can throw a lot of innings and win 15 games."
You are glad to hear that, but you don't want to spend too much time thinking about it. Last season, you overcame the off-season knee injury -- and then came back after missing a month with a finger problem to win your final four starts.
That's why on the mound, you don't smile much. And don't say much.
You stare. You think. And you pitch.
And you do it like man who has matured as a pitcher -- one who might be even better this season than a year ago.