The Strikeout Kid
Bill Lewis, Junior, Sarasota HS, Sarasota, Florida
as told to Mason Stork, Florida Interscholastic Monthly
7/31/2009: Now that ESPN The Ocho has aired the entire season of Strikeout, I have gotten many requests for more information about what it was like to be part of that series. As most of you know, the series was based on my high school team, the Sarasota Sailors, and our attempt to win the Eastern Conference of the Interscholastic Federation this season. The most important point I can get across, I guess, is that while hundreds of hours of footage were edited out of the broadcast, the series was actually pretty accurate. While we may have had some moments that we’re not proud of, that’s what happens when you film a bunch of jock teenage boys playing baseball in sunny Florida. We’re not perfect.
There is one thing I think ESPN could have focused on more, and that’s the effect Coach Uberuaga and Coach Reid have had on this team and, off-camera, on my life. I moved here from Reedsburg, Wisconsin, the summer after I turned 12. I ate, drank and slept baseball pitching for my Little League team, and was almost 6’0” when we moved down here to enjoy the warmer temperatures. Reedsburg’s not really near anything, and certainly not near the sun. My dad loves baseball – played a little minor league ball after college – but his dream was to move to a warmer climate where I could play year round. Well, he got his wish, but not in the way he expected. My mom caught him cheating with his secretary, and not long after that me and her were moving down South.
When we moved to Sarasota, I was a big fish in a little pond moving to a much bigger pond with much bigger fish. Now in Wisconsin I didn’t get a whole lot of coaching. My dad taught me pretty much everything, but he never pitched much and, as a lefty, every coach I ever had put me on the mound. I could throw hard but I never really knew how to pitch. And when I got to Sarasota I could still throw pretty good, and with my height I could intimidate the batters in middle school. But Coach Reid, who was my junior high coach at the time, took me aside in the fall of 8th grade and basically destroyed my mechanics.
At the time, I couldn’t stand it. I was always a good pitcher and here was some washed up old man telling me I would never get far throwing the way I did. My mom wasn’t so sure about it either, but she was never one to get in Coach Reid’s face. I did; I sure did a lot. But Coach Reid told me that he saw great potential in me, and he wasn’t about to let me ruin my opportunities by breaking down with injuries. I had to start all over from scratch and learn how to pitch, not just throw.
I wish I could say it was easy. I admit, I got a little wild off the field, and my mom wouldn’t do much about it. Looking back, I guess it was “normal” to rebel a little, especially with no father around, but as Coach Uberuaga taught me later: You can make all the excuses you want in life, but in the end you’re responsible for your own actions.
Anyways, for whatever reason, I decided to listen to Coach Reid and worked with him every other day after school. There were more than a few times I walked out of the gym or off the field swearing I would never be back. But I kept coming back. We’d practice without a ball, working on little pieces of my delivery over and over. You know how boring it is to stand on the mound and constantly lift and lower your right leg over and over and over, simply to make sure you’re staying balanced and in form, and not throw a pitch? I do. It’s even more boring than it sounds, trust me.
But slowly, little by little, it became second nature. I didn’t have to think about my motion by the time the spring season rolled around. I could just go out there, check the signs, and pitch. I should say, throw fastballs, because Reid wouldn’t let me throw breaking pitches that often. He told me that if I could get through 8th grade without a curveball screwing up my mechanics, he’d work with me in high school on adding pitches to my repertoire.
So I threw fastballs. Not quite as hard as I did before, but a heck of a lot more accurate. I gave up more hits as a result, and I heard the whispers that I had been over-pitched as a youngster in Wisconsin, that my arm was dead and my career would be over before it ever really began. The opponents I had dominated in 7th grade through straight fear and intimidation weren’t so scared any more, probably because I was a lot less likely to drill them in the ribs. But I could go home after throwing 6 innings and not ache all over, not feel the pain in my back and my hips and my neck, and I figured that something was going right.
Sure enough, in the fall Coach Reid started working with me on a curveball. The high school coaches at the time didn’t get along too well with Coach Reid, but they knew enough to leave him alone at the middle school and let him work with the younger kids. He had a lot of patience with me, and by the end of that fall I had a decent breaking ball. Nothing outstanding, but I knew that in time it would come along.
Well, that spring of 2007 I got the high school coaches attention and made Varsity as a freshman. I’m sure being 6’1”, 210 lbs. and a lefty didn’t hurt. Those coaches told me I was going to be a star, that I would dominate that year and never look back. Coach Reid told me that I had a long way to go, and not to rush things. He also told me to work hard, no matter what happened on the field.
And I guess he knew what he was talking about. Now, I don’t want to smear the coaches. I’m sure they had their reasons for doing what they did. Personally, I think they were too beholden to the parents of the upperclassmen, especially the ones who were on the school board or led the booster club. But even as I pitched well in practice and got our best hitters out in intrasquad games, I just couldn’t seem to get on the mound much during the season. We went 14-22, finishing 9th in our conference, and I appeared in a third of our games, throwing 22.1 innings in 12 appearances, all in relief.
I didn’t understand it at the time, and I’m not sure I do today. I had always been a starter, but I just never got a chance that year. I struck out 32 guys that year, even won a game in relief and got a couple saves, but I know I could have helped the team more. That’s what was so frustrating. I spent a lot of time complaining to Coach Reid down in his office at the middle school, but he kept telling me that my time would come, and not to let others control my emotions.
I have to admit, coming back to the team in my sophomore year, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to continue. I had grown up doing nothing but baseball, I loved playing ball more than anything, but I didn’t want to go through another season like that. The coaches once again promised a bigger role for me, but suddenly in January of 2008, I heard from Coach Reid that the entire high school staff had been dismissed and a search for replacements was underway. Needless to say, I was excited, but as much as I tried to get Coach Reid to put in for the head job, he refused. Didn’t want to deal with the politics, he said.
Just about a week before the spring season, the athletic director introduced our new coach. Felipe Uberuaga had recently moved to our area from Puerto Rico, where he had played semi-pro ball and also had run a baseball academy. Coach Ooob, as we all started calling him, somehow convinced Coach Reid to take a job as his assistant, primarily working with the pitchers. Suddenly, what once looked like a dismal season brightened considerably. I was sure that I would be put in the rotation as a starter, and I couldn’t wait to work with Coach Reid every day at practice.
Well, that first practice came and I was thrilled. At least until Reid pulled me aside and told me that I was going to stay in the bullpen, at least for the first part of the year. He explained that as dominant as I could be, he wanted to limit my innings for another year and really solidify my mechanics, and that as the closer I could still help the team and help myself individually.
As those of you who watched the ESPN series know, we improved to 30-25 that year, finishing 3rd and just missed the playoffs. As tough as the news was to take that first day, I loved closing out games. I had 12 saves my sophomore season, dropped my ERA below 2 and made the league’s All Star team, the first time a sophomore from my high school had ever had that honor. I still wanted a chance to start, but Coach Ooob and Coach Reid kept on me and made sure to keep practices interesting, even when I had to sit out to keep my arm fresh. I could feel my arm getting stronger and was even getting up to 95 on the radar gun. Don’t tell Coach Reid I know that; he hates those radar guns. Says kids and parents and scouts only want their speed now, they don’t care nothing about actual pitching anymore, just care about throwing hard.
So, heading into my junior year, we hear that ESPN is coming to tape our season and make a show out of it. You should have heard Coach Reid arguing with Ooob about it in their offices one time. We could hear them clear out to the practice field until Reid realized the window was open and slammed it shut. But Ooob liked the idea, and so ESPN came down to Sarasota to follow our attempt at a league championship.
Ooob never is one to back down from a challenge or pressure. Pressure creates diamonds, he says, and the more pressure, the better. He tells us if we withstand the pressure, the other teams will crumble. I’ve never seen him look worried, or stressed, or anything like that. He reminds me of Tony Dungy, the former Colts coach… calm, cool, collected, no matter what the score or situation.
That first episode they aired was the one where I finally got to start a game. I didn’t start Opening Day, but based on the way I pitched our second game, I didn’t deserve it. That’s about as bad a game as I ever pitched, and I was sure that I was going back to the bullpen. But they kept me in the rotation and I struck out 45 over my next 23 innings, giving up only 1 earned run over those 3 games.
Anyways, long story short, we finished the year in second place to James River and faced them in the playoffs. The perfect ESPN ending would have been a win, I know, but I couldn’t clinch the series in my start and we ended up losing the series the next day. At least James River won the championship, so we know we lost to the best. Next season, it’s our job to be the best, and that’s what we’re shooting for whether ESPN comes back down or not.
I’ve been asked how I feel about being an All-Star again, or winning the league Outstanding Pitcher award. And while I’m grateful for the recognition, I would trade it all for a championship. As you saw on the series, we may have our differences and our moments but we all get along and fight hard for each other, not for our own individual glory. We fell a little short this year, but that’s just going to make us work harder next year. I may strike out 16 per 9 innings again next year, but if we don’t win it doesn’t matter. I may even better my 8-1 record next season, but without winning that final game, it’s not important.
Now, one last thing. My teammate Avery Parkinson, yes, we did nickname him “Numbers” because he is always poring over his stats. But trust me; we’re two of a kind. He would trade all his individual success for a chance at the Federation Championship next year. And I can vouch that every player on this team feels the same way. Anyone who looked like they were looking out for themselves, well, that was just a matter of editing. I don’t blame ESPN for that; they need an interesting show with conflict and drama. But Ooob and Reid and the other coaches all make sure we have the same goal and purpose: to win a championship, to celebrate as a team after we win and support each other when we fall. That may not make for good television, but it makes for one heck of a ballclub.