Lincecum and 138 Pitches = Panic

The pitch count preachers are in full terror mode after hearing that the Giants allowed Tim Lincecum to throw 138 pitchers in shutting out the Padres on Saturday night. Words like "reckless," "criminal," and "horrible" have emerged from computer keyboards in reaction to the Lincecum "incident." A couple of things need to be pointed out here. Those who are religiously dedicated to the pitch count would win a few more people over to their side of the argument if they were a bit less shrill, a bit less panic-stricken, and a bit more, what's the word we're looking for here, nuanced, in their assessments of managers who allow pitchers to assume heavy workloads.

That brings us to our second point. Let's try to understand what Giants manager Bruce Bochy was doing here. He was obviously trying to give Lincecum additional ammunition as part of his fight to win the National League's Cy Young Award. That, in and of itself, doesn't justify what Bochy did. But if we consider the context of the situation, Bochy's action becomes more understandable. Heading into the ninth, Lincecum had thrown 118 pitches, hardly an egregious total. By all accounts I've read, Lincecum's normally impeccable mechanics were still sound and smooth throughout the ninth. In addition, he was still throwing his formidable fastball in the mid-nineties and showing little evidence of fatigue. Finally, he retired the first two batters he faced in the ninth, then gave up a harmless single, and then finished off the game with a strikeout on a 3-2 count. Based on all of this evidence, it does not appear that Lincecum labored or struggled in working his way through the ninth inning.

If I were the Giants' manager, would I have allowed Lincecum, a prized young right-hander and the current face of the franchise, to throw 138 pitches? Probably not, if only for the entirely selfish reason that I am tired of hearing the angry rants and raves of the pitch count preachers. On the less selfish front, the Cy Young Award is relatively unimportant to me, when weighed against the relative meaningless of a Saturday night game between two non-contending teams. But that doesn't mean that I don't understand why Bochy played it differently. Given the circumstances and conditions, the all-important context of the situation involving his mechanics, his velocity and the degree of difficulty he encountered, Bochy seems to have some supporting evidence for his decision. Perhaps he just wanted to give Lincecum an important lesson in finishing off an opponent, a lesson that carries some value for a man considered to be the current and future ace of the pitching staff.

Bochy's actions weren't reckless, horrible, or criminal. This was a debatable situation in which reasonable arguments can be made in both directions. And that's something that the pitch count preachers need to consider from time to time.