The Biggest Disease in Baseball

Steve Blass, Steve Sax, Rick Ankiel, Chuck Knoblauch, and Mark Wohlers.

Little common ground is to be found among this list of players: one reliever, one starter, one starter-turned-outfielder, and two second basemen. But certain baseball thinkers believe these five men to be sufferers of "The Steve Blass Disease," a condition ascribed to those baseball players who mysteriously become incapable of performing tasks which they used to succeed at, likely due to psychological effects.

Steve Blass, a Pittsburgh Pirate, nearly won the Cy Young in 1972 at age 30, was an All-Star, and had pitched brilliantly in the playoffs, pitching 15.2 innings and giving up three runs. In 1973, his WHIP reached 2.17 and his ERA nearly quadrupled, rising to 9.85. He walked 84 men in 88.2 innings in 1973; he had walked the same amount in 249.2 innings the year before. He was sent down to the minors, would return briefly in 1974 to make a relief appearance, and then retired in March 1975 after failing to make it out of spring training.

(It says a lot about his career that the only usable image of him I could find was from The Simpsons)
Steve Sax, second baseman for the Los Angeles Dodgers, would be the next man diagnosed with Blass' disease, after suddenly becoming incapable of making throws to first base in 1983. He committed 30 errors in that year, up from 19 in 1982. He would be one of the few to be "cured," so to speak, when he rebounded and no longer frightened the fans behind first base.

Mark Wohlers was the first reliever hit, in two ways. Jim Leyritz in game four of the 1996 World Series hit a game tying 3-run home run, shifting the power and giving the Yankees a World Series title after defeating the Atlanta Braves in six. All seemed well in the year following, but in 1998, his control was no longer there. In 1996, he issued 21 walks in 77.1 innings. In 1997, he issued 38 walks in 69.1 innings. In 1998, he would nearly equal that, with 33 walks in only 20.1 innings. This one hit much closer to home in terms of Steve Blass Disease, as the loss of control was exactly what Blass had experienced. Wohlers would rebound, however, and return to the majors to throw another 167 average innings before leaving baseball.

(I could not find a picture of Chuck's bad feeling shaming him, so I found one that was an uncalled shame)
Chuck Knoblauch, second baseman for the Minnesota Twins, the Yankees, and the Kansas City Royals, was Steve Sax redux. In his time in Minnesota, he gained a reputation as a sure-handed fielder, one of the best in the game at second. He came to the Bronx in 1998; a year later, he could not make a throw to first. Another year later, the Yankees would actually play Knoblauch as a DH just to keep him off of the field. He even went to psychiatrists and psychologists for help, but still fired many a throw into the crowd. Joe Torre threw him in left field, where an errant throw meant less hassle than a lawsuit from an angry fan with the imprint of a baseball on his forehead and lost outs.

Perhaps the most famous case for a fan of the game today is St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Rick Ankiel. He struck out batters at an absurd pace in high school, maintained his stuff in the minors, and would finish second in the NL Rookie of the Year vote for 2000 while posting a 3.50 ERA and 194 strikeouts, striking out nearly ten batters per nine innings. The playoffs, however, would be a different tale for the rookie. In the third inning of game 1 against the Atlanta Braves, Ankiel saw his career as a starter die. He walked four men (one of whom was fellow starter Greg Maddux) and threw five wild pitches. The Cardinals weathered the storm, and Ankiel got a chance to redeem himself in game 2 of the NLCS. The recovery and return to dominance was not to be, unfortunately, as he threw two wild pitches and another three pitches had reached the backstop in the first inning. He had thrown 20 pitches at the time of his removal. He showed up in relief in game five, walking two and throwing two more wild pitches.

His issues persisted in 2001, and he was returned to the minors. His control was completely gone at this point, and he walked 17 batters and threw 12 wild pitches in only 4.1 innings. Later that year, he would see time as a designated hitter, which would help him start his recovery - not as a starter, but now as an outfielder. Today, he is on the Triple-A Memphis disabled list, waiting for a call-up.

But in truth, this article is about none of the players mentioned above. While most fans find their stories depressing, none of them matter today. Even in Ankiel's case, he is clawing his way back to the majors, and most seem to have forgotten about his experiences. Brad Lidge, however, is still quite present to us, and he is who I want to put the focus on.

(No player has ever wanted to throw up in his own face more than Brad here)
While not viewed as a sufferer of Steve Blass disease, Lidge seems well on his way to that path. Most people reading this can remember the moment where Lidge's downfall began. It was the 2005 NLCS, game five, and the Houston Astros were one out away from going to their first ever World Series. David Eckstein and Jim Edmonds reached base, and then Albert Pujols stepped up and decimated a pitch, sending it on to the railroad tracks of Minute Maid Park. The Astros would win game six and head to the World Series, but Lidge has yet to rebound. Lidge was one of the best closers in the majors in 2004 and 2005, predicted to remain in the elite class for several years to come, but in 2006, he struggled mightily.

He has been juggled in and out of the closer's role in 2006 and 2007, being demoted but then pitching well in middle relief and being given it back by Phil Garner. All it took to knock Lidge off-course from his expected multi-year career as a top closer was a single home run, one that did not even cost his team in the end. He still has a chance, but likely not one that involves closing games.

Is Lidge really a sufferer of the disease that has ruined careers? Is he just reaching the end of his (short) prime? Is this even a disease? No matter the answers to these questions, there is one undeniable point here. Witness what may be the strongest force in baseball: the mind.