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Ty Cobb once said the legendary Walter Johnson's fastball "hissed with danger," (source: SABR) which is just about the greatest description of a pitch ever uttered or written.
Indeed, Johnson's fastball was an implement of intimidation, as it seemed in its day the fastest pitch anyone had ever seen. So imposing was Johnson's heater that he didn't really develop another pitch -- a curve -- until 1913, at the earliest. By then, he was already an established first-order ace.
No doubt, his fastball would've lit up radar guns had radar guns existed during Johnson's day, but what made his pet pitch seem even more astounding was that it was born of a delivery that we normally associate with less fearsome "junk-ball" stuff. Witness Johnson's distinctive and mighty sidearm fling ...
That's a throwing motion the likes of which you almost never see. Johnson's leg kick is fairly low to the ground, and his stride length is also quite short. Also note that as he begins his move toward the plate his arm is almost momentarily in "three-quarters" position, but then that incredible arm path -- one perhaps best likened to one of those potato-sack slides at the carnival -- turns everything into a sidearm finish. Johnson's arm somehow winds up across his body, almost perfectly parallel to the ground.
And notice how high he loads his arm as he begins his "fall" toward the plate ...
His right arm, as you can see, is almost perfectly straight, almost exactly perpendicular to the ground. Without that loading device, he probably wouldn't be able to summon up that incredible arm speed -- doubly incredible by the standards of sidearm hurlers. And speaking of "doubly incredible arm speed" ...
That wispy serpent pictured above is the blur created by Johnson's elbow getting out in front of his hand as he prepares to deliver the fastball. You can, if you dare, make out the bend in the elbow and the hand trailing far behind it. Chris Sale thinks that looks like it hurts.
Now can you imagine being a right-handed batter and seeing the ball explode out of the Big Train's hand, pretty much in line with your neck or head? One story has it that Ray Chapman, the Cleveland shortstop eventually killed by a Carl Mays pitch in 1920, walked away from an at-bat against Johnson after the first two strikes. Can't say I blame him all that much.