Benny Howell: 'My dog helps my pursuit of the perfect knuckleball'
5 May 2020
Despite being in lockdown like the rest of the nation Benny Howell continues to hone his skills, substituting his teammates and the Bristol County Ground for a small net and man's best friend.
*This article was first published by The Daily Telegraph here.
Knuckleball. My obsession. While my new routine has relocated to my garden and a small net, it has not stopped my pursuit to release the perfect knuckleball. It must hover in the air as if in slow motion then drop in a turbulent flow, tilting one way and dipping the other. I want it so remarkable that even my dog patiently waiting for my attention is hypnotised by this mystical movement.
My fascination started when I watched my first baseball game in Miami in 2012. This was a different game to cricket, yet in many ways it was the same. The subtle mind games between pitcher and hitter are parallel to that of bowler and batter. The pitcher’s role, like a bowler’s, was to prevent the batters from scoring runs.
I was hooked. What could I learn from baseball and how could I transfer it to our great game?
The knuckleball has only been mastered by a tiny minority in Major League Baseball, as it’s incredibly hard to throw with precision. When not thrown well at 65mph, it is like feeding underarms in batting practice.
Most pitchers throw above 90mph, so why would they throw this risky and extremely volatile pitch?
I could not bowl 90mph, therefore developing something unique was my way forward. I read RA Dickey’s book Wherever I Wind Up: My Quest for Truth, Authenticity and the Perfect Knuckleball, which gave me valuable insight and inspiration to create my own phantom delivery.
When I have an idea, I go all in. That winter I joined a baseball team in Melbourne. I learnt that pitchers traditionally hold the knuckleball with their nails dug in just under the stitches of the ball, so I was surprised it’s not called “the nailball”.
I simply jammed the ball between the knuckles of my index and middle finger. This felt more natural. I spent countless hours underarming, throwing and bowling the ball against a wall or ceiling, net or cage, cricket or baseball batter. There were numerous aspects that effected the unpredictable movement. The weather, venue and pitch played their part.
Delicate variations in grip, such as changing the angle of the seam, holding on top or under the ball and placing pressure on the thumb while using my wrist to produce forward rotation, generates “kick” off the wicket.
Nothing is more satisfying than when the ball dances past the batter, leaving him bamboozled. Today, I resort to fooling the dog, which is surprisingly rewarding as she usually catches everything.
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