Bullpen sessions are generally informal affairs. There is a line of pitchers, and a line of catchers, and a line of coaches and executives and other assorted onlookers leaning against a big red wall that rises between two of the four playing fields that compose the Phillies’ minor-league complex. The focus is on process rather than results, the selection of pitch type and location hashed out in a subtle interplay between the man behind the plate and the one rising above him from 60 feet, 6 inches away. Balls and strikes do not exist, only good pitches and ones that could have been better, the identification of one or the other communicated through waves of the glove or points of the finger or brief shouts of affirmation.
Phillies' Gabe Kapler's desire for change is unorthodox, but effective | David Murphy
