By John Klima
Staff Writer

Tim Lincecum wasn’t in the minor leagues long enough to fall asleep on a bus. He arrived with the San Francisco Giants in May, less than a year after he was drafted. At the tender age of 23, he already grasps that a pitcher’s mind is his best friend.

Recently, Orel Hershiser paid a visit. Lincecum listened respectfully, but a week later, he had formulated his own opinions.

“He told me, ‘When I came up, I was a curveball-sinker guy,” Lincecum said. “‘I never let that get away from me. Those were always my two pitches. Everything else was extra.’”

“That’s kind of helped me,” Lincecum said. “I’m thinking about that. I’m trying to believe that. I have my curveball. My curveball and my fastball are my two pitches I came up here with.”

There is gratitude, followed by analysis.

“But I also don’t think I’m that much like (Hershiser),” he said. “Maybe in the lankiness, but he’s got like four inches on me. I lean back. He tilted forward when he stepped back. He had a different leg kick than I do. As much as people can say some guy looks like this guy or some guy throws like this guy, every pitcher has their own little tweaks. Every pitcher has something that makes him tick. Every pitcher has something that’s different in their rhythm and delivery. No two pitchers throw exactly the same.”

Lincecum came to the Giants with intellect. Most pitchers do not come to the majors with it, which means clubs have to train them. However, most clubs do not wish to prepare pitchers for the mental aspects of the game. This lack of patience has undercut the careers of many young pitchers. It leads to overthrowing, which leads to the operating table.

Lincecum has an advantage. He has a thought process as evident as his 96 mile an hour fastball.

Yet he is also an unfinished pitcher facing finished products. Lincecum finished July with his best month as a pro, compiling a 4-0 record and a 1.62 ERA, but the league hasn’t seen him twice. Though holding his own in the major leagues, one could argue that he would be still better off if he was in the Pacific Coast League right now, where mistakes are easier to learn against lesser hitters. Immediate success does not ensure that a young pitcher is ready.

The problem is that baseball, as an industry, suffers from industry wide impatience. Stuff allows a pitcher to dominate, but does not teach him how to eliminate mistakes.

The young right-hander is learning how to assimilate while being asked to win. Is the kid putting pressure on himself?

“No one wants to fail at this level or go through hard times, but at the same time its part of the game,” Lincecum said. “I’ve tried to learn to accept it at this level. It’s a little harder here than I’m sure it would be in a minor league situation, but nonetheless, it’s still hard to take. It’s trying to take as much stuff that’s good out of those bad outings as possible and duplicate them in my other outings.”

Does this process risk hurting him down the road? Yes. Why rush what doesn’t need to be? If a pitcher of Lincecum’s composure, intellect and pure stuff admits how difficult the game is, what is it like for the ordinary young pitcher?

“It’s a new experience for me, trying to take in all that everyone is trying to offer me, especially with all the veterans on this team,” Lincecum said. “You try to take in so much at once. This game is so simple you tend to over think and over analyze everything when it’s just about throwing to the glove, throwing the right pitches in the right situations, knowing where to be and not getting too caught up with everything else.”

This industry covets young arms, but does not want to take enough time to develop young minds. This leads to a host of pitfalls. Not all young pitchers have the mental fortitude to survive the moment they come here, even if their arms belong here. If a team paid for the arm, why not invest in maturity?

As veteran outfielder Luis Gonzalez shrewdly noted, “When you pay $2 million for a kid, you don’t want to wait on him for 15 years.”

Gonzalez is right. Most teams don’t want to wait 15 years. They want to wait 15 minutes.

The mentality of rushing players before they are adequately prepared mentally runs contrary to the way baseball is supposed to be taught. If the big leagues are not the place to develop talent, then don’t sacrifice kids at the altar before they are ready. Talent will persevere, yet patience is not for sale. Players learn at different paces. Sometimes, you wonder if front office folks forget how hard the game really is. There is nowhere to hide on a big league diamond.

This condition is worse among pitchers than it is among position players. There are clubs that throw young arms to the incinerator. When you do that, you run the risk of ruining them.

Teams can argue that only the strong survive, but if the club neglects to give the kid time to grow mentally into the major leagues, then they run the risk of destroying the original investment. No owner wants to hear that his $2 million investment went to waste. When you throw a baby into the fire, you risk burning the bottom line.

No business is more hit or miss than the development of potential number one starters. No position in baseball has a higher attrition rate. The game lacks pitching because it has strayed from how it was meant to be developed.

Summer is when every club is looking for bullpen help. This is because baseball has created a modern game where five innings and 100 pitches is a quality start. Starting pitchers are meant to be horses, not show dogs. Much of this steams from how the game neglects developing pitching minds.

Can it be that pitch location is an extension of mental command? Can it be that pitchers need an adequate amount of innings in the minor leagues to hone the mental side of the game? As Lincecum believes, no two pitchers are like. This goes for the mind as well as the arm.

There’s a reason veterans survive in the majors. It’s because they know how to command the mental aspect. But the game does not afford the same opportunity to kids that it does veterans. This is also counterproductive. Even if the kid doesn’t have the same contract, he still cost money to sign and develop. There is a demand for youth, but often reluctance to win with it.

“It’s been scattered all the way around,” Lincecum said, describing his first 16 starts. “I’m trying to find consistency with all my pitches up here now. You get out there and get caught up in the whole situation of, ‘Hey, I’m pitching against this guy or that guy.’ You start getting away from yourself. I’ve been trying to not get too far away from myself, but at the same time, adding to myself.”

The boy understands the balance. This insight alone is more than anyone in professional baseball could have ever given him.