A man a site like this loves to love

Allan James Burnett

The bastard can pitch. Usually I bring out stats, numbers, data, blah, blah, blah. Ok, so I’m a jays fan. It came to pass that I watched a game or two of this man’s last few seasons and must divulge: his stuff is mephitic. Nay; that wont suffice. His arsenal is... mephitic, iniquitous, squalid, verminous, virulent, pernicious, pestiferous and occasionally internecine.

That fastball, man, you swear it’s a two-seamer, a sinker, he must have taken a little off allowing it to drive hard back to the plate after forcing a left hander off it. First the ump punches the dude out, and then the radar gun catches up as AJs walking off the field: 97? 97 are you kidding? Are you fucking kidding? He makes a ninety seven mile-per-hour fastball take a right turn three quarters of the way there. Some times it’s just straight gas at 99 and you close your mouth and shake your head.

As for his off-speed pitches, in Toronto baseball circles there was always this discussion about how often he used his change-up in the same tones as if it were how often his took vitamin pills or ate his vegetables. It was always fair to point out that he would never be great with just two pitches, and that he had to use the change-up both to improve it as a pitch and because it would make his other pitches better. Well, he didn’t use it much last year. And that was ok. really.
The press shut up about the change-up well before K# 231.

How he manages as a two pitch pitcher is that his deuce is a decidedly devious and deceitful delivery. You see counts were it’s an obvious off-speed count and the batter chases a deuce in the dirt anyways. Or, he can throw a couple early (the batter's always take these) and worry about finishing the count with the heat. High, low, outside, or bust’m in’n break a bat. Usually you see AJ's catcher move his glove from the intended target to catch the ball. The batters still misses so [shrug] it's all good.


He’s going to be slinging for those bombers of the Bronx next few summers. But screw all that jibe about his mental and physical fragility under New York pressure. Screw the days when he’s hurt. Screw the days when he pisses of the press and the fans and it's all anyonw talks about. Screw the days when he grows his goatee (or pitches) like a goat. Burnett is a distant star waiting to supernova: ignore the dim light from before, or black sky left after, its brightest moment should be all you remeber. Enjoy watching him pitch. Enjoy the walk and the bomb fingered in-between the three strike-outs in an inning. Enjoy the high pitch counts meaning he can only get 12 K’s because he’s pulled in the 7th. Most of all, enjoy knowing that deuce is coming, knowing the fans know it’s coming, watching the catcher puts the sign down to too briefly for AJ to have seen it but he’s already nodding anyways, and knowing the batter knows it’s coming too, then watching a swing through that mortiferous curveball.