Phew! Adrian Gonzalez can throw!

Good news everyone, according to the Boston Globe, Adrian Gonzalez can throw (http://www.boston.com/sports/baseball/redsox/extras/extra_bases/2011/01/gonzo_starts_th.html). Not that I was ever worried since throwing is not an essential tool for a first baseman. My brother Cary proved this in 1991 when he played a full season at first base without the ability to throw.

Cary's shoulder was dislocated during a two-hand-touch football game. It was serious enough to require surgery. All the physical therapy in the world would not be enough to restore the range of movement required to throw a baseball by baseball season. So springtime arrived and brought with it a difficult decision: Play baseball or don't play baseball. My Dad, a Yankee fan, pointed out that Joe Dimaggio had sustained a debilitating shoulder injury during The War, but returned to the Yankees and still manned a formidable center field. How did he do it? He kept the injury a secret. Opponents couldn't take advantage of the handicap because they didn't know about the handicap. Cary would utilize the same psychology.

To execute the plan, Cary had to sell it. Luckily, years earlier, my Mom had enrolled us in a theater workshop at Orange County Community College. The final production was a stage adaptation of Charles Schultz's "Peanuts" in which Cary played Charlie Brown, the lead role. Though overshadowed by my scene stealing, gut-wrenching portrayal of Woodstock, a mute bird, the acting skills Cary learned stuck with him. So years later, when faced with having to keep a debilitating injury a secret, Cary reached into his actor tool kit and pulled out another great performance. Watching him was like watching Daniel Day-Lewis in "My Left Foot", except the opposite -- you had no idea Cary was a gimp.

By mid-point in the season Cary was flying high. His teammates had come accustomed to his pre-game ritual of working with a red rubber strengthening band (prescribed by his physical therapist) instead of having a catch. Offensively he was doing great. A perennial .300 hitter, the injury (or "lack-there-of-any-injury", wink wink) proved little effect on his swing. His performance was so convincing, no one noticed anything was wrong. Until IT happened.

It was the top of the 3rd inning of the sixth game. Ryan Gillespie was on the mound. Kyle Knapp was at bat. Ryan threw a 2-1 fast ball. Kyle's big swing unleashed a routine ground ball to shortstop. Pete McMahon fielded the ball and came up throwing. From the bleachers behind first base, I watched the ball soar over Cary's out-stretched mitt. Cary hustled to retrieve the ball. Kyle rounded first and headed for second. Cary picked up the ball. From where he stood, second base was approximately 115 feet away. Kyle, a slow runner, had only made it halfway. Cary gripped the ball; he had to at least try. He reached back, stepped forward, and released. Now imagine throwing a sponge with your non-dominant hand on a windy day. That's what it looked like. But that's not where the humiliation ended. A hollow thud echoed. Like a dog who's owner pretends to throw a ball, but instead hides the ball behind his back, it took a moment for everyone, including Cary, to realize what had happened. There was a light post positioned in foul territory behind first base. Normally, I wouldn't have noticed it as it was well out of line with the trajectory the ball needed to travel from Cary's hand to second base. Somehow, though, Cary managed to peg the post squarely, with a direct hit. The ball careened off the post and landed somewhere deeper in foul territory. Kyle made it to third.

Unfortunately for Cary, his performance had been too good. After the game, when he tried to explain his errant throw by unveiling his secret injury, no one believed him. After all, he wasn't even part of the Thespian Society. So instead of being lauded for his toughness and determination to play the game he loved, he was saddled with a reputation that he threw like a girl. As that weren't enough, to add insult to injury (or just a pun), for the rest of the season, whenever he picked up the ball, everyone in the stands ducked.

On second thought, maybe throwing is a valuable tool for a first baseman. I know so because my brother Cary proved it. Good thing Gonzalez is getting back to form.

(Please note that Yoshi contributed nothing to this.)