CHICAGO — They’re magic, sleight of hand, muscles’ devious memory. Adam Wainwright’s curveballs are dirty tricks batters have been able to anticipate for more than a decade now—and still, they fall for them, although maybe not so often as they used to.
The best thing about a Wainwright curveball—a vintage, prime-of-his-career, 75-mph beauty—is the look of the batters who stand still, certain and then incredulous. The swings and misses, those are plenty fun, but they’ve got nothing on the blank, soul-sucked stares. You’re probably remembering Carlos Beltran back in 2006, when he stood in the batter’s box as the Mets’ final hope in the NLCS.