MORGANTOWN — Once upon a time, back before the world came to believe that pitchers were the biggest sissies on the face of the earth, there was a pitcher named Joe McGinnity. He was a giant among Giants, the New York variety, that is, a man who become a Hall of Famer.
His nickname was “Iron Man.”
In 1903, he worked both ends of a doubleheader — three times.
In the month of May.
Now it’s true that he didn’t get his nickname of “Iron Man” because of that feat but rather because he had worked in a foundry before turning to baseball, but he came to be the symbol of what the human arm could do.
Then along came someone who believed that pitchers needed more than 20 minutes rest between starts, that they needed to be massaged — their arms and their egos. They began limiting innings, then the number of pitches thrown, the idea being that they could pitch many years … most of them badly past their prime, but at least their arms would feel fine.
The problem with this evolution is that no one ever told Andy Altemus about it. See, he just likes to pitch.
Give this West Virginia reliever, by way of Morgantown High and Potomac State, the baseball and he’ll use it to get a hitter out. He’ll worry about his arm later.
This weekend, for example, someone tried to make a big deal out of the fact that in West Virginia’s Thursday game against Villanova he threw 5.1 innings, then came back to win Saturday’s game by coming out of the bullpen and pitching eight more innings, allowing one run while throwing an additional 91 pitches.
That was 13.1 innings in just three days, totaling nearly 140 pitches.
Altemus could find nothing unusual about it, however.
“Back in 2007 in Legion ball we were at the Mid-Atlantic Regional I threw more than 330 pitches in a couple of days,” he recalled. “I just keep throwing until I can’t throw any more.”
And, on Saturday against Villanova, he almost reached that point.
Tall and lean, Altemus came to what would be his final game at Hawley Field expecting to pitch … just not eight innings.
“My arm was dragging by the third,” he admitted.
Think about that for a minute. He worked the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth inning on fumes, throwing pitch after pitch, trying to throw quality strikes.
His velocity could not match his tenacity.
He kept hammering away, throwing strikes, getting
ground balls, retiring hitters and waiting and hoping that someone eventually would run into a fastball the way Chris Griffin did in the most heroic of fashions to win the game and send the Mountaineers to the Big East Tournament.
Instead of having his career end right there in defeat, Altemus got to pitch another day … maybe two days, maybe more.
But he is facing a stark reality, one that all too many face as they leave college.
He may have majored in baseball, but it appeared his future would be elsewhere. He doesn’t figure to be drafted, even though his earned run average did lead the Mountaineers, and he probably won’t get signed as a free agent.
He admits that no scouts have talked to him.
This is like the education major who has no teaching offers, the engineer graduate who doesn’t even hear from the B&O railroad.
He’s a kid who wants only a chance.
“I want to pitch until I can’t pitch anymore,” he said.
Big league scouts, especially in right-handers, look for velocity first, second and third. While you always hear of pitchers who are “crafty left-handers”, when was the last time you heard anyone called a “crafty right-hander?”
Coach Greg Van Zant isn’t sure he understands this aspect of the professional game.
“Someone should give Andy a chance,” he said. “He can get hitters out.”
Because he isn’t overpowering, he’s had to learn how to pitch. Because he isn’t overpowering, he didn’t even begin his career at WVU. They couldn’t give him a scholarship because they knew he wasn’t ready to pitch at a major college level when he left Morgantown High, so he went to Potomac State, which has a good program.
At WVU, he would have come and sat. At Potomac, he got to pitch and grow.
“He’s a smart pitcher,” Van Zant said.
Once this senior season ends, he’ll probably wind up pitching in an independent league, taking the ball when asked, throwing until his arm feels as though it is ready to fall off, then throwing another inning or two.
E-mail Bob Hertzel at bhertzel@hotmail.com.
