Instead of closing for the Cleveland Indians, the next-to-last man standing when the Boston Red Sox reached the Promised Land at last elected to close his career.
Never mind that Keith Foulke passed a physical before signing a one-year, $5 million deal that the Indians were prompted to offer based upon those eleven straight scoreless gigs last September. Two years worth of injury issues must have left him certain he had too little left to give, if anything.
For the Tribe — in need of a completely rebuilt bullpen after the 2006 edition got themselves wanted for arson — Foulke’s retirement leaves Joe Borowski the top contender for the closing assignment.
For Foulke, you wonder what his arm told him when he approached spring training and how many bleeps would have been required to sanitize the speech.
"Back to Foulke — Red Sox fans have longed to hear it — the Boston Red Sox... are world champions!"
Maybe Foulke really did leave everything he had on the Busch Stadium mound that night, notwithstanding a serviceable-looking 2006 despite losing the closing job to Jonathan Papelbon. Including the pitch he threw Edgar Renteria, for the comebacker heard ’round the world, or at least ’round Red Sox Nation, Foulke in fourteen 2004 postseason innings had thrown 257 pitches in landing 19 strikeouts and surrendering a single earned run.
If he’d been a starting pitcher there’d have been calls for an investigation.
A starter throwing two seven-inning starts with that many pitches over the two would average to 128.5 pitches per start before you count the eight warmups he throws before each inning’s work. (Add the eight and such a seven-inning start would give you a 184.5-pitch outing.) Lost in the moments of the Red Sox’s exorcism, it was only too simple to forget the load Foulke carried in those games, including the finishings of all four games the Olde Towne Team swept in the World Series. And that doesn’t begin to count what he threw in the bullpen getting ready to come into those games.
Whitey Herzog, call your office. I still haven’t shaken off his revelations (in You’re Missin’ a Great Game) about bullpen abuse. Unless you’ve read the relevant passages the easiest thing on earth, sometimes, is to underestimate the load imposed on a relief pitcher. Herzog's own rule: If he warmed you up twice and didn't bring you in, you had the rest of the day or night off.
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