On Tuesday, Florida Marlins’ starter A.J. Burnett underwent Tommy John surgery, after exploration of the elbow revealed a torn ulnar collateral ligament. The surgery went well, and Burnett’s expected to return fully healthy down the road. Previously, pitchers who have had this surgery take about a year, maybe a year and a half, to get back on the mound and eventually return to form. The procedure and rehab have become something of a commonplace miracle, despite the fact that the rehabilitation regimen’s about as appealing as a porta-potty at the Stockton Asparagus Festival.
The real issue here isn’t Burnett, however unfortunate his injury is. We wish him the best, and I have no doubts that he’ll push the rehab envelope and get back as soon as he can. The real issue here is painfully obvious–was this avoidable? You’ve already seen a number of perspectives about pitcher abuse, injury likelihood, and the very nature of pitching itself, so I won’t go into too much detail here. I think the real interesting issue here is a long-underlying one that’s been talked about, but never really addressed. That issue is the balance between performance, overwork, responsibility, and accountability when it comes to handling pitchers. So let’s put aside the specific case of Burnett, and examine the issue.
Milton Bradley reminds us why we shouldn’t give up on good prospects, Fred McGriff has fallen off the face of the Earth, and Greg Colbrunn was last seen wearing cement sandals at the bottom of Puget Sound. Plus other happenings with the Indians, Dodgers, and Mariners.
Will Carroll mopes about the A.J. Burnett flap, hopes for a position move for Mike Piazza and a call-up for Jose Reyes, gropes for a cure to Rich Aurilia’s vision woes, and ropes a kick-ass Mark Prior quote.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: reader feedback is one of the great parts of this job. I’m lucky–everyone at BP is lucky–to write for an audience that provides thoughtful, articulate responses. It keeps reading e-mail from being a cringeworthy job, and turns it into an informative experience.
I read every piece of mail I get, from two-liners to two chapters. That I don’t respond to it all is a flaw in my game, like my inability to handle a good fastball or make the throw from the hole. I’ll keep working on it.
For today, here’s a sample of the feedback, and a promise to spend an afternoon next week going through my “Reader Mail” folder and getting back to you.