New Bat. Same Grind.
Chasing Torpedoes: Technology’s Role in Baseball’s Everlasting Balance
They say in baseball that you should never get too high or too low. The game is naturally a roller coaster, so you need to maintain an even keel.
Players are also notoriously superstitious. No matter how well things are going, we are hesitant to declare success because doing so feels like tempting fate, as if the baseball gods are just waiting to strike us down. There is no magic formula in the game—no one way to figure it all out. Each day is another crack at the Riddle of Sphinx, and the riddle only gets harder.
We hope routine is the answer—the antidote to it all. Routine provides a margin of safety, helping us keep success within reach when that inevitable cold slump takes over.
But then there are the tools of the game to help you, which continue to improve thanks to advances in technology and science. This collision of old school and new school does not just shape the opinions of pundits and managers, it flows through the players too. For years, I wore Cooperstown spikes, and when my Nike contract earned me a pair of special Air spikes to bring me to the modern era, I tried them once. Then, I wanted my old Cooperstowns back. Cooperstowns were literally like bowling shoes—simple, light and to the point. I wore them until the end.
What we call “old school” could also be just a matter of habit. An average baseball player’s career lasts between five and six years, so you can feel like an old man fairly quickly compared to the rest of the world. But will your stubborn attachment to familiar comforts be your downfall? Maybe.
The Yankees opened the season with an absolute bat barrage against the Milwaukee Brewers. They hit like they were testing rockets for launch at Cape Canaveral—nine home runs in one game. Judge hit three before we could even say “63,” and the Yankees were bombers once again.
Many of their players have embraced the new “torpedo” bats, and their success with home runs led us to believe in a magic bat. Could there be a perfect design to counter all 100 mph cutters? We wonder. Perhaps we can create a tool that neutralizes our weaknesses. Your long swing? We’ve got you. Your slow load? We’ve got you. Your tendency to pull off? We’ve got you. It is the never-ending loop of tool versus self. At what point do you reach the limit of your ability to adapt and instead build a system around your inefficiencies and flaws?
In the fast-paced world of professional sports, you probably have to make that decision early in your career—or risk the end of it.
This leads to the next question: if I embrace this process too soon, will I stop developing because the tool forces me to become too reliant?
Pitchers have been enjoying a period of dominance, so anything that makes them cry “no fair” is worth noting. The torpedo bat had that kind of impact on the first day of the season, but the sustainability of such a hitter’s advantage is questionable when it is based on a tool. Tools can be countered, eventually.
It began as a Yankees’ thing. A glimpse of the evil empire having the best launchers. Then, Elly De La Cruz of the Cincinnati Reds went 4-for-5 with 2 HRs and 7 RBIs using a torpedo bat. Now, we are onto something else. Something non-Yankee.
But then again, Corbin Burnes and the D-Backs came to town the next series to pitch against the Yankees. They gave up three home runs, true, but they also notched 14 strikeouts against their torpedo lineup. The torpedo bat does not guarantee automatic barrel contact.
What is really stunning, though, is the performance of the first four batters in the Yankees’ lineup. They went 0-for-15 with nine strikeouts. Judge included. What happened?
MLB competition happened.
I make no claim of a pattern here—just another day of baseball humbling a hitter.
Baseball players know all too well that a small sample size of compelling data does not ensure long run success. Going 4-for-4 today guarantees nothing for tomorrow, but it does help you sleep better tonight. It gives you a bit more confidence during batting practice or in a meeting with your manager, making it much less likely you will be released when you are 34 years old. The small sample is also a reminder not to get too overconfident because tomorrow’s game is a fresh, new challenge.
And when tomorrow comes, you have to have a new plan—even if you are still using the same bat. Even if that bat is performing exactly as it should, it cannot ice your sore shoulder or make it easier to pick up the baseball in Seattle’s batter’s eye. It cannot promise you success when a submariner takes the mound or a sinkerballer repeatedly exposes that hole in your swing.
We need the tools of the trade to perform. They matter. I found the bat I would use for my entire career at a random moment during batting practice in Puerto Rico. I used teammate Tony Valentin’s bat to take some swings and it became my bat of choice for the next decade—34”, 32 oz, walker finish, tapered, R219.
It jumpstarted an offensive hot streak that lasted five seasons. Same bat the entire time.
But the bat cannot replace the work nor can it stop the competition from figuring out how to turn your magic bat into pixie dust.
Some players like Bryce Harper can pick up anyone’s bat and just use it. He can experiment. Maybe he knows more than most of us that hitting is largely a feeling. The bat just lets you express it.
That is not to say I would go back and try to hit with Babe Ruth’s hickory log pulled from Lincoln’s log cabin, but in my appreciation for a great-feeling bat, I still need a plan on how to use it.
Maybe that is what makes baseball so fun—especially with its large sample sizes by season’s end. The race for technological advances is frenetic. The data war is right alongside it. Players have access to training expertise—sleep coaches, nutritionists, eye experts. Yet, even with all of this, there is often an equilibrium at work too—sometimes manufactured, but always lurking.
Meanwhile, the bats themselves are undergoing a mini-revolution to counter the dominance of pitching across major and minor league rosters. The Yankees may have started the conversation, but they know better than to claim that the bat solved every problem. Because tomorrow, someone will work tirelessly to unsolve it. That is what baseball does to the overconfident—and honestly, we kind of love it.
Loved it Doug!
such great considered writing! was hoping you'd write about this