Bill Mueller's Interviews
A Model of Consistency
By Richard Keller
Surely, there was something wrong with the numbers.
Someone must have misplaced a dozen hits in calculating Bill Mueller's line item on the Giants' batting chart. It was May 1, and the stats in the morning paper showed Mueller hitting precisely .250. That couldn't be right. It must be a typo. Everyone knows Bill Mueller hits .300. Always.
But there it was, in undeniable black ink. An 0-for-5 performance in a 4-3 loss to the Montreal Expos at Pacific Bell Park the day before had sunk Mueller into an uncomfortable region, the Land of the .250 Hitter, where he clearly didn't fit in. So beginning that night, in an emotional vanquishing of the New York Mets, Mueller's average bounced like a ping pong ball off the surface of .250 and headed back where it belonged.
It started with an inconspicuous infield single in the sixth inning, Mueller's only hit of the night. Moments later he became a part of history, when Barry Bonds deposited SPLASH HIT 001 into McCovey Cove, and Mueller joined Calvin Murray in greeting Bonds at the plate after the three-run blast. From that night forward, it would be 15 games and 20 days before Mueller would go hitless again, his average creeping back towards its accustomed plateau.
Mueller wears 32 on his cream-colored home jersey. Were it possible, his ideal numbers would be 300. From his debut with the Giants in 1996, summoned from Phoenix when Matt Williams broke his foot on a memorable foul tip, Mueller opened the eyes of all around him in the remaining 55 games of the season. In exactly 200 at bats, the switch-hitting wunderkind sent balls to every corner of Candlestick Park. When the dust settled at season's end, Mueller's average was precisely .330.
"I just think it's a testament of my will, that I try my best every day and in each at bat. If .300 is the standard proof, then so be it," says Mueller, attempting to explain how a .300 hitter can evolve. "I'm not a person who's gifted with enormous talent, where I can go out there every day and cruise. I have to work for what I get, and I never let up. I try to do everything I possible can to succeed."
One of Mueller's best traits is his polished baseball swagger. No one this side of Robby Thompson fits a Giants uniform better. A portrait of Mueller at his perfect moment might not have been at the plate at all, but extended parallel above the ground at third base, glove open and receptive, black-shadowed eyes glued to the ball zooming toward him. A picture of grace, he fields it, regains his knees instantly and fires from the ground to J.T. Snow to nip the hitter for the out. As he stands up to resounding cheers, the ball zips around the horn and returns to him at the precise moment. He accepts it casually, flips it to the pitcher and returns to his position. As with Thompson, the substance of the swagger is in the man who carries it.
Mueller spent many a boyhood night watching ballgames on TV with his pop in the suburbs of St. Louis. Growing up, Billy was too busy playing ball to attend many games at Busch Stadium. But he and Bill Sr. watched loads of local Cardinal telecasts and the Cubs on cable. "Instead of choosing a favorite player to focus on, my dad encouraged me to watch all the players and pick up bits and pieces from those I admired," says Mueller, a star player from Little League to DeSmet High School to Southwest Missouri State. "I'd watch Willie McGee, the way he used the whole field, how he hit the ball where it was pitched and never tried to do too much with it. In Cubs games, I'd watch Ryne Sandberg, how he only went after good pitches, always strikes, seldom swinging at bad ones. And Pedro Guerrero with the Cards, the way he'd bear down with runners in scoring position and always seemed to come up with a clutch hit."
Mueller, the Giants' 15th round pick in the June 1993 draft, incorporated those impressions into his picture of hitting. And they all came to bear during his 15-game hit streak, second longest of his career. In one key at bat early in the stretch, Mueller displayed the qualities of all three players at once. It was against the Mets at Pac Bell on May 4. The Giants had just taken a 3-2 lead in the eigth inning when Mueller came to bat with the bases full against Armando Benitez. With Sandberg-like eyes, Mueller too the count to 3-2 before raking one, McGee-like, over the centerfielder's head for a three-run triple, settling the 7-2 outcome, Guerrero-like.
When asked for his secrets of hitting, the answers are right there on the surface, as accessible as a fastball over the heart of the plate. Is there a difference in approach with his open stance from the left side as opposed to his more traditional closed stance from the right? "Not really, because from either side, I'm still the same person," says Mueller. "I've been hitting from both sides since I was a kid, when dad would toss tennis balls to me in the backyard. My right side is my dominant side, so I started out swinging righty. But I think I've been able to make it to the point where there isn't much difference from with side. I just try to be consistent."
Mueller's career hitting statistics entering 2000 prove his point. In his first 1500 Major League at-bats, he hit .302 from the left side, .280 from the right. He hit .282 in home games, .312 on the road. He hit .303 in night games, .290 under the sun. He hit .310 on turf, .295 on grass. He hit .289 before the All-Star break, .303 after. You get the idea.
As to hitting streaks, "You become aware of them when people come up and ask questions about them," he answers. "I felt I was hitting the ball just as well before the steak started. Some of it has to do with how you're feeling, or who and where you're playing during a stretch of time. And a lot of it is simply luck. Before the streak it seemed like I was always hitting it at somebody. During the streak, they just seemed to fall in."
Says Mueller, "What it boils down to for me is never wasting an at bat. Every player learns that from their minor league days. But for me, it's especially true. I take every at bat, every pitch very seriously. It's the only way I know how to play."
When the steak finally ended with an 0-for-4 in Milwaukee on Saturday, May 20, Mueller gave it little thought. Nor did he notice, as others might have, that his average for the season had clicked to precisely .300. Just like it should be.