SMALLS TALK: On-Field Composure

We get it - you're mad. You struck out in a big spot, blew a lead, didn't drive the run in, served up a walk-off, went 0 for 5, got pulled in the second inning, or achieved any number of on-field failures - who wouldn't be mad? Ohh, but you're throwing equipment... you must be really mad.

Give me a break. For us hitters, baseball is a game of failure - more often than not, you're not going to get the job done. It's just a fact of the game, something that every player needs to acknowledge and overcome. It's a frustrating sport, one that ranges from incredibly easy to nearly impossible in the span of an at-bat. A series of one-on-one matchups, the game can never be mastered - perfection is unattainable.

So why do guys insist on making a spectacle of themselves when something goes wrong? I understand people deal with failure and anger in all types of ways, but there are few things that bother me more than an on-field meltdown. Sure, sometimes they're fun to watch, but nothing makes my blood boil like a teammate freaking out in the dugout. Breaking bats, throwing gloves, flipping coolers, breaking lights - you name it, I've seen it, and each time I roll my eyes and think to myself, "grow the f*** up."

Don't get me wrong, I've been there - been in slumps you wouldn't believe, made costly errors, struck out with the tying run on third - I've failed with the best of them. But you know who was to blame for all those things? Me. They were my fault - I let the team down. I've felt upset, angry, and hopeless on the baseball field more times than I care to remember, but I would never let my problems go public. My teammates don't need to see me breaking the bat rack to know I care, just like I don't need to see my starting pitcher chuck his glove at the Gatorade cooler to know he's upset about only going 1 1/3 innings.

We all care - we wouldn't play if we didn't. It's an infuriating game, you're allowed to be angry, but you can't let the game break you - because if you let it, it will. I have never in my life seen a guy freak out early in a game then turn around and do anything productive in the following innings. A meltdown might as well be a giant white flag, waving from the dugout informing the other team that you are officially checked out mentally. They no longer have to worry about you - you're already beat. The game of baseball has worn you down - your day is done.

SMALLS TALK: Being Friends With Pitchers

For some reason, all of my close friends are pitchers. I never noticed it until the other night. About seven of us were sitting around the kitchen table playing Poker, and I remembered a funny line our hitting coordinator had dropped during a hitters' meeting earlier that day. I broke out my best impression, delivering the line with such an uncanny precision and attention to detail that for a second, even I almost thought our coach had barged in, bought in for five bucks and was blabbering away at the end of the table. It was dead-on.

The reaction? Crickets. No one knew what the hell I was talking about, I couldn't believe it. Surely somebody present understood the reference. I looked around the table, searching for an ally - someone to back me up here. Pitcher. Pitcher. Pitcher, pitcher, pitcher. Pitcher. None of them had been at the hitters' meeting because, well, none of them were hitters. 

Wait, really? For months, I had been totally unaware that I was the token position player in our group of friends. I was baffled. Why were all my friends pitchers? 

SMALLS TALK: It's Not Always Sunny in Arizona

After almost two weeks of perfect baseball weather, the Arizona skies finally showed their mortality today. Dark clouds, violent winds, heavy rain- all that was missing was a dog named Toto. The result? A much needed day off. But it wasn't a guarantee. Nope, we had to sweat this one out.

After looking at the forecast last night, we all walked into the clubhouse this morning prepared for a rain-out. Kids who had visitors in town told them not to bother coming to the field; other guys were looking up early matinee movie times, and some even looked as though they hadn't even bothered fully waking up- perhaps prepared to go back to bed immediately after notice of a wash out. We were ready for the rain-out. Mother Nature, on the other hand, was not.

We sat around the locker room in our street clothes waiting for rain that just would not come. After a good half hour, we looked around at each other with uncertainty- the time had finally come for us to get ready to head out to the field. We all tentatively threw on our uniforms, most of us wearing long sleeves for the first time since arriving. This was just a formality, we thought. The second we go outside, it's gonna start pouring. It's almost funny that we're even bothering to put our uniforms on. It was so dark and windy, all signs pointed to torrential downpour. No way would we play baseball today. Right?

SMALLS TALK: Tee Work

It's just sitting there. It's stationary atop the tee, just waiting to be clobbered. It's not moving 95 MPH. It's not curving, cutting, tailing, or dropping. The baseball is just there - helpless.

When you think of professional baseball players hitting off of a tee it's almost laughable. These guys are some of the best hitters in the world, and they're performing an activity that has 6-year olds everywhere smirking with confidence.

As I stand over the tee about to take my hack, I can't help but think of Happy Gilmore practicing his short game at the Putt Putt Mini-Golf Course: "This is embarrassing, I'm a professional golfer for God's sake." Amen.

The ball isn't even moving - where's the challenge?

Turns out, it's not that simple. Go into any college or professional hitting facility and you will find between one and three tees for every batting cage. It's an essential item - a mainstay in any hitting routine. Regardless of your talent level, there's always something to work on - you can never outgrow the tee. Even Big Leaguers are fans of the seemingly elementary tool - Hall of Famer Cal Ripken, Jr. was rumored to take over 200 swings off a tee everyday during his lengthy career.

SMALLS TALK: My Bat of Choice

Every player wants to trust the bat in his hand. He wants it to feel comfortable and familiar, and when he swings it, he's looking for consistency and pop.

These desires are universal - but when it comes to the dimensions of that bat in their hands, most players vary in preference.

Aside from the obvious weight and length, there are different aspects to every model. There are big barrels, medium barrels, and long barrels. Handles can be thick, skinny, even tapered. Do you like a lighter feel, or perhaps the momentum of a top-heavy bat? Do you want it finished with that glossy look - maybe even double-dipped? Or perhaps you prefer the grainy feel of raw, unfinished wood?

What about the end of the bat - do you want it cupped or rounded? And what color would you like?

Decisions, decisions.

That's the fun of wood bats, though. Unlike metal, there's no exact mold or specifications that need to be followed directly - your bat can be custom built for you, and there are countless models to pick from. The trouble isn't in deciding what kind of bat you like, however - that comes to you as time passes and you gain more experience with wood. Nope, the trouble is deciding which of the countless bat companies to turn to when it comes time to order that perfect bat.

For me, it's Zorian Bat Company.