Pitching is a craft.
Alone on that hill, you have to be part architect, part artist, part mechanic,
part surgeon and part fireman. Like all of those vocations, the heart of
pitching rests in the hands. Long fingers are the DNA of a good curveball, big
palms the building blocks of a devastating change.

Doug Fister’s hands may not be the first
thing one notices when taking stock of the towering 6-foot-8 righty. But they
are the tools of his trade, finely tuned from years of taking apart cars and
putting them back together; from afternoons spent at the work bench or in the
garage. Fister–who once upon a time majored in construction management at
Fresno State with intentions to become an architect–has spent his life
connecting to the world through the works of his hands. No wonder he became a
pitcher.

“Growing up, my dad and I were always the kind that were out
in the garage, working on this and that, trying to build this or build that,”
Doug says. “We’ve always been the kind of people who try to do things
ourselves, until we can’t. Then we call in the professionals.”

Doug’s fire captain father Larry taught his son the ropes–not
to mention the pulleys, levers, carburetors, pistons, nuts and bolts–of how
machines came together.

“In the fire service, it seems like everybody’s got their
own trade,” says Doug. “When you bring all those guys together, and bring all
those trades together, each guy starts to learn those trades from different
people. Hanging around all those guys since I was knee-high to a grasshopper,
it rubbed off on me, and I really enjoyed it.”

Knee-high to a grasshopper was a long time ago for Fister.
Now, knee-high to a giraffe would be more apt for the big Fresno State Bulldog.
Not that getting to that altitude was an easy experience for Tacoma’s emergent
starter. There were the requisite bumps in the road that go hand in hand with
being all knees and elbows.

“For the longest time, looking back, I really kind of felt
gangly, but I never lost my coordination,” says Fister. “There were times when
I was skinny as a rail, but I never really completely lost my coordination. But
yes, there is definitely a concern with being taller and thinner. There are
more arms and knees. Mechanically, you really have to make sure of everything
going in the right order and being mechanically sound.”

The more body you have, the more there is that can go wrong.
Especially when it comes to pitching. But having those hours in the garage
under his belt, studying how machines of all shapes and sizes worked, Fister
posses a unique skill that helps keep his steering aligned.

“With having a visual understanding of how things go, I’ve
always been a guy that likes to watch video of myself and learn, and see what I’m
doing,” says Fister. “As a human being, you think you’re doing something, but
as you watch it on video, you think, ‘Oh, what I think I’m doing is not
actually what I’m doing.’ At times, you really have to step back and say ‘I
need to refocus and change these things.’ And having that visual reference of, ‘OK,
this is what I look like, this is what I’m doing,’ you’re able to step back in
and make the necessary adjustment.”

He uses that same vision to dissect
hitters, probing their stances for weaknesses he can exploit.

“I feel like that’s a trait, that I feel I can see,” says
Fister. “Looking at hitters, I have trouble remembering, ‘So-and-So can do
this, So-and-So can’t do this,’ so I have to look at the hitter and make my
assessment. I do that each time a guy steps in the box. And we do that every
pitch, because each hitter makes his own adjustment, and so do I. So, you’re
constantly playing a
cat-and-mouse game.”

But of course, Fister’s always been more of a dog than a
cat. Both he and his father were Fresno State Bulldogs, with Larry playing two
years of football and Doug playing a pair on the diamond. When it came time to
transfer from Merced College, Doug had his choice of Fresno State, Oklahoma
State, BYU, Long Beach State, Oral Roberts, Pacific, Ole Miss, Pepperdine, UC
Irvine and UNLV–all respectable baseball programs. But in the end, it was his
dad’s alma mater that won out.

“He stood back and let me make my own decision,” Fister says
of his father. “There were a few schools that were interested in me, and I just
felt that with the coaching staff and the location–and considering my
personality–that Fresno State fit me best. Obviously, with him going to school
there, I’ve always been a Fresno State fan. It played a part, but it was my
decision, without any pressure from him or any family member.”

In his first season for the Bulldogs,
Doug won a team-high seven games, tossing 93.2 innings and ranking second on
the team in strikeouts. He also started 26 games at first base. He performed
well enough to be drafted by the New York Yankees in the sixth round of that
June’s Major League Draft, and was an Academic All-Western Athletic Conference
selection, majoring in construction management. But instead of donning the
pinstripes, Fister returned to school.

“I’ve been asked that question a lot since that draft,” says
Fister, of why he turned down the Bronx Bombers to finish his senior season. “There
are obviously some things that have to fall into place, and I felt like I
needed to learn some more things, both baseball-wise and in life. I was also a
physical late bloomer, to where that extra year of growth really helped me out.”

When he returned, Fister decided to
change his major from construction management to Liberal Studies, with the
intent of becoming a teacher whenever he’s through with baseball.

“I sat for many, many hours, thinking of what I’d want to
do, and I can’t see myself being locked up in an office or locked up behind a
desk for eight hours a day,” says Fister. “I need constant change in a work
day. Being able to interact with other people or younger children as a teacher,
I need that. That’s where education came in. And also having those summers off,
being able to either have a family vacation or partake in some other summer job
on the side, like a cabinet-making business. Me and my father and my family and
friends have all talked about putting something of that sort together in our
down time.”

But before he could start shaping wood and young minds,
there was the business of baseball to attend to. In 2006, Fister went 8-6 for
Fresno State, tossing 116.1 innings over 19 starts. He upped his strikeout
total from 77 in 2005 to a staggering 108 Ks, and walked just 47. When the
draft came along again, the Mariners selected Fister in the seventh round.

The adjustment to pro ball was far from easy. In his first
full season as a professional, he went 7-8 with a 4.60 ERA in 24 starts for West
Tennessee in 2007. 2008 was even worse, as he went 6-14 with a 5.43 ERA, at one
point losing 12 straight decisions before being demoted to the bullpen.

“Going through the struggles that I went through taught me a
lot about how to pitch, instead of just throwing,” says Fister. “That’s always
been a major point for me, even when I was still playing a position through
college. I really focused on learning how to pitch, and not just throwing
strikes or throwing the ball.”

His transformation since that season has been nothing short
of remarkable. Through his entire career, even back to his days at Fresno
State, Fister had averaged at least 2.2 walks per nine innings. He had bounced
between the bullpen and the starting rotation. But as he concentrated more on
the craft of pitching, something clicked.

“I’m trying to make a more focused effort to cut down on
pitch count and pitch to contact,” says Fister. “But, being able to focus and
go for the strikeout when I need it–each one is needed for a different time–that’s
what I’m trying to learn at this point in my career, and fine-tune exactly what
I need to do in each situation.”

Fister started 2009 with the Diamond Jaxx, and went 1-0 in
two relief appearances, striking out five and walking one in 5.2 innings. After
being called up to Tacoma, Fister also came out of the pen, and in four
appearances, he gave up just two earned runs over 8.2 innings, striking out 10.

When the Rainiers needed him to move into the starting
rotation, he obliged by winning his first three decisions. Oh, and that walk
total? Through 70.2 innings, Fister had only issued four free passes, equating
out to a 0.5 walks per nine innings pitched. Fister has turned himself into a
strike-throwing machine, throwing 819 of his 1218 pitches across the plate. But
even machines can get damaged–something Fister has to keep in mind during the
offseason, whether he’s swinging a hammer or putting down hardwood flooring
with the Old Man.

“Every time we’re doing something back home, I’m always
getting harped on by my dad and by other people: ‘Hey, watch your fingers, don’t
get them in the saw, don’t smash them with the hammer,” says Fister.

And before you ask, the answer is ‘yes.’ He has had the
displeasure of a meeting of the minds between a hammerhead and his pitching
fingers. It’s an experience he won’t soon repeat.

“This past offseason, my sister bought a house, and we were
putting in hardwood floor for her and I smashed my two pitching fingers twice
with a hammer,” Fister says. “I really had to be careful after that, but it was
just a reminder that I have to take care of myself before I really cause a
problem.”

Sound thinking. But then again, Fister has always been one
to use more brain than brawn. Though he was always one of the taller kids in
the class, he was also one of the skinniest, by his own admission.

“In a way, it was good, but it was more difficult to perform
on the court or on the field,” says Fister. “I had to use more of my brain, and
more of my quickness to try and get around a guy and get underneath the hoop,
and in baseball, really focusing on footwork and going back to technique,
rather than relying on strength.”

In that vein, Fister made a decision his junior year of high
school to cease his pursuit of being a three-sport star, and focus more on the
sports where he could use his head as well as his height to gain leverage.

“I played football for my first two years, and I also played
basketball and baseball all four years,” says Fister. “Thinking ahead, my
family and I talked about it, that at that point in my life, my career was
either going to be in basketball or baseball. So I kind of shut down the
football idea, so I wouldn’t get hurt.”

Fister has had a remarkable run of
luck. For all that could go wrong in a body his size, he has yet to see the
dark side of the Disabled List in his entire professional career, much like the
player he idolized growing up: the Iron Man, Cal Ripken, Jr. Though Fister is
in no position–literally–to break Ripken’s consecutive games record, the fact
that he seems to have picked up on his idol’s durability bodes extremely well.

As well-maintained and as finely-tuned as the cars he and
his father once pored over, both in body and in mind, the tallest drink of
water in the Rainiers locker room has only one way to go: up.