Free Knuckler by Tim Wakefield

time, the opposite was true.
    Tim Wakefield's knuckleball was
too
good.
    Still, Hall also regarded the pitch as nothing more than a party trick at the time, and in fact he fully believed that Wakefield's future rested in his abilities as a hitter. Hall recalled a game against Bethune-Cookman College during one of Wakefield's first seasons in which he belted a home run to right-center field that caught everyone's attention—"It was a bomb," mused Hall—and not solely for the distance the ball traveled. Wakefield, according to Hall, was a pull hitter in college. As a right-handed hitter, Wakefield's power was primarily to the left side of the field. At any level, for a right-handed batter, hitting a ball out to
right-center
required an exceptional amount of strength, discipline,
and hand-eye coordination. The mechanics had to be perfect. And if a player could demonstrate that kind of ability consistently, he possessed the kind of exceptional talent that might draw the attention of professional scouts.
    "He worked hard at it," Hall said of Wakefield's commitment to hitting. "He loved to hit. That's what he really liked. He was a good first baseman, too, but hitting—that's what he really liked to do."
    And that is also what Tim Wakefield did well.
    Between his freshman and sophomore years, a period that coincided with his physical maturation—and remember, Wakefield effectively had the academic standing of a sophomore heading into his junior year, meaning he was a year older than many of his classmates—he fully invested in working out. When he returned to school in the fall, he was bigger and stronger than he had ever been. Wakefield struggled with the academics at Florida Tech—"I almost failed out of school," he said—but the baseball began coming more and more easily to him, to the point where he started to be recognized as a local phenom. In Wakefield's second season at Florida Tech, in the spring of 1987, he was compared routinely to a first baseman from the University of Tampa, Tino Martinez, a local prodigy who had played his high school baseball at Jefferson High School in Tampa. During the same spring, while Martinez was hitting 24 home runs for Tampa, Wakefield hit 22—in 48 games, no less—for Florida Tech. Local fans and media gave intense coverage to the two blossoming talents in the area—one batting left-handed (Martinez), one batting right-handed (Wakefield)—and the future for each seemed extremely bright.
    By the spring of 1988 Martinez was seen as one of the best players in the country, but Tim Wakefield still was seen as a developing prospect, if for no other reason than the fact that he had matured later. For hitters especially, size and strength are important assets because the pitching gets more challenging at every level of development. The average velocity with which pitches are thrown increases dramatically at the professional levels. Off-speed pitches change direction far more acutely—and at higher speeds. The transition from aluminum bats (used in college) to wooden bats (used in professional play) is
another major adjustment. Players like Martinez were seen as virtual can't-miss prospects because they hit everything and anything from a young age—and for power—whereas someone like Wakefield was still regarded as something of a
project.
    Nonetheless, Tim Wakefield knew he had a chance to be drafted.
    In June 1988, following a junior season in which he hit 13 more homers and raised his career total to a school record 40—the record still stands—the Pittsburgh Pirates grabbed Wakefield in the eighth round of the draft with the 200th overall selection. (Martinez, by contrast, was the 14th overall player taken, in the first round, by the Seattle Mariners.) Wakefield was elated. He wanted to turn pro immediately. Steve and Judy Wakefield were similarly excited about the prospect of their son becoming a major leaguer—"You're always