Greg Maddux: the Legend

Recently, Greg Maddux reminded all of us that he is a special piece of baseball—to be enshrined in the Hall someday.

While there are many stories of past Hall Of Famers to keep their legacy alive (Babe Ruth and Satchel Paige to name a few), I wanted to share three of my favorite Maddux stories from ESPN.COM and BleedCubbieBlue.com which I think solidify the legendary benchmarks of Maddux: Accuracy & Consistency, Pitching Knowledge, and Reading the Hitter.

1. Accuracy & Consistency-

Over the past 22 years many a catcher, coach or broadcaster has said, "I bet you could catch Maddux with your eyes closed". Sounded plausible enough and maybe coaxed a chuckle or two, but mostly it was just a cliche. It was just a matter of time before somebody decided to prove it.

It was mid-September, in the home bullpen at Petco Park. Maddux, the human metronome, was into his same hands-over-the-head windup he'd used since he was a kid in Las Vegas. As always, every pitch hit the mitt, wherever it was placed. Padres bullpen catcher Ben Risinger, bored with the perfection of it all, said to coach Darrel Akerfelds, "I bet I could catch him with my eyes closed."

That was all fine and rhetorical until Akerfelds said, "Okay, well let's go for it."

First, a system had to be put in place; Akerfelds would stand a few paces in front of the plate and to the side so he could track the path of the ball and yell "Now!" to let Risinger know when to squeeze his mitt.

Risinger, who spent some time in the minors, promised not to cheat. Maddux, in spite his long-standing commitment to the pursuit of a good laugh, was lukewarm on the exercise, citing liability concerns. "I know I don't throw very hard anymore," he said, "but I'd like to think I can still hurt a guy who's not looking." His protests were ignored; there are times when a legend must bend to the public's will to display his gifts for the amusement of others. This, apparently, was one of those times. Risinger squatted and closed his eyes. Maddux threw.

A catcher's mitt is roughly 33" in circumference. To be caught, the ball must hit an area that is roughly a third the size of the mitt. A major league baseball has a diameter of roughly 2.9". We're not talking about throwing a ball in the strike zone here; it's about hitting the palm of a hand from 60 feet 6 inches away. You can do the math or just take Risinger's word for it: "He's the only guy I'd even come close to trusting with my eyes closed."

The first pitch glanced off the top of Risinger's mitt and hit him in the mask.

"That's enough," Maddux said, walking off the mound. "One more," Risinger said.

The second pitch hit Risinger square in the pocket, but Akerfelds' "Now!"signal was too late or Risinger's mitt squeeze was too slow. The ball dropped at his feet.

"That's enough," Maddux declared yet again. "One more," Risinger said. "Please?"

Maddux wound up and threw. By now, pitching coach Darren Balsley and a few other Padres were watching the strange experiment taking place involving a catcher trying to catch without the benefit of vision. The ball left Maddux's hand, and Akerfelds yelled "Now!" and Risinger clenched his mitt around the ball.

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