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Meet Brian Holman
KC Dragon's Hitting/Pitching Consultant
“Game On”
As a starting pitcher, there is a short period of time as you take the field when you feel most alive. I can’t believe I’m even attempting to put these feelings into words because just the mere thought of this moment has the hair on the back of my neck standing at attention. There are approximately five minutes between the time a pitcher walks to the mound until he delivers his first pitch that his senses are at their most heightened state. Let me see if I can paint the picture for you.
From my earliest child hood memories, all I remember ever wanting to do was play baseball. Baseball was in my soul and everything I did focused on my being the best player I could be. I loved to play and can still remember the days when a rain out was a devastating event that would quickly bring tears of disappointment at the realization that I couldn’t play baseball that day. My whole world revolved around that little white, five ounce leather ball with the raised red laces. Oh, the things I could do with a baseball. No matter what time of year or how poor the weather, I was begging one of my brother’s to go outside and play catch. Years and years of developing my skills have led up to this moment. Endless hours in the weight room, miles and miles of running, thousands upon thousands of balls thrown have brought me to this place, the most magical five minutes in baseball.
A starting Major League pitcher only gets to take the mound once every five days. The days leading up to your start are filled with preparation and hard work. You do all of the physical conditioning, watch film on opposing hitters and study the hitting charts to see if Wade Boggs, Bo Jackson, Mark McGwire or Cal Ripken Jr., have any weaknesses you can exploit. You have prepared physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually for your day to arrive. That’s right, I said my day! I ate my pancakes this morning and my pasta for lunch. I arrive at the ball park early, get my treatment and begin listening to my pre game music. Anything rock-n-roll will do but Led Zeppelin or Lynyrd Skynyrd was usually the music of choice blaring in my headphones. I put on my uniform exactly the same way I do every time. Not superstitious mind you, just regimented. OK, maybe a little superstitious.
The time comes and I start walking to the bull pen to get loose. Stretching, sprints, long toss…. Same routine, every time. Once loose, I start throwing my pen. Do I have good stuff today? Of course I do, I tell myself! If not, I better think of something and fast. I’m ready and now I’m walking back to the dugout. Fans are yelling encouragement, some aren’t. I reach the dugout, sit down on the bench for a moment and try to collect my thoughts, which isn’t easy considering there’s about a million things swarming around in my head. Time to take the field. Now comes the countdown. I look at my team mates with that pre game fire and ask if they’re ready? A resounding “Let’s Go” erupts and we’re off…. Everyone sprints to their position except me. I walk out to the mound confident and ready to go as hard, and for as long as I can. I love to compete so it’s all I can do not to sprint to my favorite place, the center point of the field where all eyes are fixed, the bump, the hill the mound. I cherish this place! I love to pitch because I’m in control and nothing happens until I throw the ball. I love that feeling. But I need to conserve my energy so I walk. Ugh! As I get to the mound I reach down and pick up the ball. Now over my career, I have done this more times than I can count but each time I pick up a baseball, a warm, exciting feeling floods over me. I think to myself, wow, I get to throw this thing at a hitter. Pitchers possess extraordinary sensitivity in their hands and fingers when holding a baseball. We can instantly tell if the ball is too big or too small, too heavy or light, or if the laces are high or flat. If it doesn’t fit in my hand just right, it gets tossed back to the umpire. For me, there’s not a more natural feeling in the world than holding a baseball. It’s a special feeling and one that I never get tired of.
I plant that pearl in my glove, remove my hat and place it over my heart. National Anthem time! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard this song but I never grow tired of it. What an awesome song! Not only is it our Nation’s song but it is also baseball’s equivalent of “Gentlemen, Start Your Engines!” As I stare at the most beautiful flag in the world and mouth those incredible words my senses are on overload. I feel, hear and smell everything! This is where I’m most alive. I smell hot dogs, pop corn, cut grass, rosin, and pine tar. I hear the words, cold beer, peanuts….. My heart is pounding and I can feel the beads of sweat running down my neck. Man, this is a big stadium! The anticipation is insane! Huh, I wonder if this is how a race horse feels when locked in the starting gate? My jaw is firm and although I’m relaxed, every muscle in my body is taught with the thought of what’s about to be unleashed. My breathing is quick but controlled. Throw first pitch strikes, keep the ball down, throw inside, stay under control, get ahead, don’t hang a breaking ball to Canseco are just a few of the hundreds of thoughts racing through my mind.
When the Anthem ends, the stadium erupts in thunderous applause. Wow, goose bumps! Mass adrenalin!!!!!!!!!!!! I put on my hat, bend over and tap the rosin bag with my hand and fingers. I throw that sticky bag down in a puff and toe the rubber. Just a few more warm up pitches to go until I hear, “play ball!” OK, time to shut off my brain and focus. Slow down, stay closed, arm feels loose, doesn’t hurt too bad, one pitch at a time, one hitter at a time, one out at a time, one inning at a time and one game at a time…… I’m ready! Last warm up pitch, catcher throws it down and the infielders fire the ball around the horn until it finally ends up back where it belongs. Home in my glove. The last thing I hear is the announcer’s voice echoing over the stadium’s PA system, now batting, leadoff hitter……. I take a deep breath and silence. The tunnel closes in and all I see is my catcher’s fingers flashing me signs and his glove coming up to target. I step back with my left foot, pivot with my right; lift my leg high and AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Game on!!!!!!!!
Brian Holman
MLB Retired - Kansas Baseball HOF 2007
