Two pitchers, two things I wonder

The pitcher: Tim Wakefield
What I wonder: Why aren't there more of him?

We all know the Tim Wakefield story: minor-league first baseman who can't hit, manager suggests he start throwing a knuckleball, it carries him to the majors, great start with Pittsburgh, flames out, hooks on with the Red Sox, becomes a mainstay before retiring earlier this week. (And as I explained to Extra Pine Tar on Twitter, he's a good enough guy that he's the Red Sox player I hated the least ... and that's a compliment.)

I don't understand why more teams don't try to develop knuckleball pitchers. All over the minor leagues, there are pitchers (and position players, like Wakefield was) who aren't going anywhere. They're basically there so the actual prospects have someone to play with. They're either going to quit or be released. Why not take a bunch of them and try to teach them the knuckleball?

Teaching and throwing the knuckleball isn't easy, and for most of them, it probably won't work. But if it works with one guy, maybe the big club gets something out of a guy it was never going to get anything out of, and a player who was destined for the 9-to-5 world gets a shot at the big leagues. And there's no risk involved at all.

The pitcher: A.J. Burnett
What I wonder: Will he ever figure it out?

Barring a failed physical or Bud Selig mucking it up, A.J. Burnett is about to become an ex-Yankee, one of the team's three big free-agent signings of 2009 traded for ... basically to not be on the Yankees anymore.

Great stuff, but wild. It has been the bane of pitchers since there have been pitchers ... especially young pitchers.

But A.J. Burnett is no young pitcher. He's 35 years old, a multimillionaire who's now on his fourth team. And for all that stuff, he's 121-111 with a 4.10 career ERA, because he has always been wild. I'm no expert on pitching mechanics, but it has always seemed to me that there are so many spinning, moving parts in his motion that if any of them are off, he can't find the plate.

What's worse is that he can be utterly dominant for three or four innings, and then it all goes away in a flurry of walks, wild pitches and home runs. There are meltdowns, and then there are A.J. Burnett meltdowns.

Maybe it will all come together in Pittsburgh. Maybe it'll be his reunion with Rod Barajas. Maybe Clint Hurdle's style will work for him. Maybe Ray Searage will pick the lock. Maybe pitching in the National League with less pressure will work out for him.

Maybe, maybe, maybe ... but maybe not.