Santana throws a fastball on the outside corner, a changeup down, and then, as promised, bounces a slider just off the outside corner that caroms off my arm, 15 feet away to my left. I scramble to retrieve the ball, happy that I got a piece of it, not realizing until I turn to throw that Santana is staring me down. “Utley’s at second,” he says. “What’d you think, I was going to throw (Howard) a cookie there? Now I’m in a tough spot.”
I know he’s kidding. Isn’t he? No smile this time. Santana is in work mode. He takes these simulated games seriously because he takes a thinking man’s approach with each hitter, watching the swings they take, trying to decide when they might be sitting on his changeup.
“You have to outsmart hitters,” he says. “You have to have a game plan.”
But back to Santana. I may have a healthy case of Mets derangement syndrome -- hey, did you hear that the bonds used to finance Citi Field are now classified as “junk?” Really! -- but I have a serious man-crush on Johan Santana and would love nothing more than to see him come back and have a dominant season. As of now he’s throwing freely and easily at about 88 m.p.h., working his way slowly up to full velocity.
The only thing I don’t like about what I read in the article is that he didn’t bounce one in the dirt to cup-check Harper, but I’ll take what I can get at this point.