So, the name Bobby Castillo popped up recently, and it sent me down a bit of a memory lane, specifically about my own goofy attempts at baseball stuff way back when.
Hearing the Name, Sparking an Idea
I remember first hearing about Bobby Castillo because of that whole story with Fernando Valenzuela. You know, the guy who supposedly taught Fernando the screwball? That just fascinated me. A pitch that broke the wrong way? It sounded like magic, something out of a comic book.
Back then, I wasn’t exactly a star player, more like a kid messing around in the backyard. But hearing about the screwball, and Castillo’s part in it, lodged itself in my brain. I thought, “Hey, how hard can it be?” Famous last words, right?
My Backyard Pitching Lab
So, I decided I was going to learn the screwball. My practical journey began pretty simply:
- Step one: Find a baseball. Dug through the garage, found an old scuffed-up one. Good enough.
- Step two: Find some space. The backyard was the obvious choice. Far enough from the windows, mostly.
- Step three: Figure out the grip. This was tricky. I’d read descriptions, looked at grainy pictures in magazines I could find. It felt… backward. Like holding a fork the wrong way.
Then came the actual throwing. Man, that was awkward. Instead of snapping your wrist normally, you had to twist your arm inward. It felt completely unnatural. My first few attempts didn’t even make it halfway across the yard. They sort of wobbled pathetically and died in the grass.
I kept trying, though. For a few afternoons, I was out there, twisting my arm like I was trying to unscrew a stubborn jar lid while throwing a ball. My elbow started to feel weird. My shoulder complained a bit. The ball, however, stubbornly refused to screw.
It mostly just flew straight, maybe with a slight, sad little wiggle.
Sometimes it just knuckleballed randomly because my grip was so unsure.
The Reality Check
After a while, maybe a week of these inconsistent efforts, I kind of gave up on the screwball. It was clear this wasn’t something you just casually pick up in the backyard after reading about it.
My little experiment didn’t make me a pitching prodigy. Not even close. But it did give me a whole new appreciation for guys like Castillo and Valenzuela. Teaching that pitch? Mastering it? That takes some serious skill and coaching, not just a kid goofing off.
So yeah, Bobby Castillo. Didn’t know him personally, never saw him pitch live that I recall, but his name is tied to that memory of me, a scuffed baseball, and a very sore elbow trying to unlock a pitching secret that was way out of my league. It’s funny the things you remember.
