NEW YORK — Ricky Pacione could hardly feel his legs, but that wasn’t even the most pressing issue. He had to make sure he hauled in each of Bryan Shaw’s tosses, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from veering toward the action on the field.
It was Game 7 of the 2016 World Series. He had to know what was happening. He had to know how this would all end. He had to understand how he got here, to the Indians’ bullpen in center field, tasked with warming up the pitcher who would enter the game with the league’s two longest championship droughts hanging in the balance.
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Three years earlier, Pacione was toiling away in independent ball in Pomona, New York, unsure of his future in the game he loved. And then on that night, he nearly scaled the netting on the front edge of the Indians’ bullpen, joining in on the hysteria that followed Rajai Davis’ game-tying home run in the eighth inning.
Pacione has acquired a dream job he once never knew existed, but that night, that playoff run, that series of champagne celebrations in the clubhouse — all of that furthered his stance. He would entertain a role on the Indians’ coaching staff one day if that opportunity arose. But as long as his knees can handle a crouching stance and his arm can permit him to long toss, he has no qualms about remaining in his current role of bullpen catcher.
It’s a position many don’t even know exists, but Pacione and his partner, Armando Camacaro, have their hands (and gloves) in just about everything the team’s pitchers do.
“I don’t know if the general public even knows what bullpen catchers are,” Dan Otero said, “but they’re invaluable to us.”
Pacione sat at his locker at Target Field one afternoon last summer when José Ramírez ripped his phone from his hands. Ramírez stared at the screen and started chirping. On the other end of the FaceTime call? Pacione’s mom.
Pacione wasn’t sure how he would be received by players when he joined the Indians in 2014. He was a new face in an unfamiliar role, a 24-year-old in a big-league clubhouse for the first time, dealing with players who carried the club to its first postseason berth in six years. And now he was occasionally catching, among others, a guy who ultimately captured the AL Cy Young Award that season.
“I was terrified,” Pacione said.
He grew up in Newburgh, New York, and only knew Terry Francona as the enemy manager who guided the rival Red Sox to a pair of titles. So, that added to the intimidation.
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“It’s funny to hear him say that,” Francona said, smiling, “because he never appeared that way. He’s always been a smart ass.”
The Angels selected Pacione in the 48th round — which no longer exists — of the 2011 amateur draft. In rookie ball that year, he caught Mike Clevinger’s professional debut and he batted .333. But at High-A the next season, his hitting numbers cratered and the Angels cut ties with him during the following spring training. He briefly caught on with the Rockland Boulders of the independent Canadian-American Association, but he knew his playing career had reached its end.
“The writing was on the wall,” Pacione said.
Some networking helped Pacione’s cause, though. He knew a scout who knew another scout who knew the Indians were seeking a bullpen catcher. Pacione preferred any major-league opportunity to attempting to catch on with another organization and just toil away in the lower levels of the minor leagues. The Indians quizzed him about how he would interact with players and conduct himself in a big-league clubhouse, whether he could catch Cody Allen’s looping curveball and Corey Kluber’s diving sinker and if he was willing to spend eight months of the year at the field or on a plane or in a hotel. Pacione occasionally treks to the ballpark on the team’s off-day (or even the morning of the All-Star Game) to catch a pitcher’s side session. He also caught the final three innings of the Indians’ last exhibition game this spring.
“They do all kinds of shit,” Francona said, “more than you see. They’re available to everyone.”
Pacione was giving a hitting and catching lesson in his hometown — his customary offseason routine — when the Indians called one day, a couple months ahead of the 2014 season.
“I got the call that I got it,” Pacione said. “My life changed at the drop of a hat.”
Pacione sat down at his locker on Tuesday, near the front of the visitors clubhouse at Citi Field, with sweat dripping down his forehead. He had just caught bullpen sessions thrown by Aaron Civale and Zach Plesac, and he completed the workout by sprinting through the humid air, across the field, to the Indians’ dugout.
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On a typical day in Cleveland, Pacione walks the few blocks from his downtown Cleveland apartment to Progressive Field around 12:30 p.m. If he has time, he’ll squeeze in a workout in the Indians’ weight room. Then, it’s time to prepare for the day. He and Camacaro treat baseballs for use in the bullpen and the batting cages, so the pitchers have a firmer grip. They use a few dozen each day. Then, they head to the bullpen, often accompanied by pitching coach Carl Willis, for that day’s side session.
Depending on the week’s schedule, a starting pitcher will throw a side session two or three days after a start. All of the starters — aside from the one taking the mound that night — will watch, a practice instituted years ago under Mickey Callaway’s watch. Pacione and Camacaro split the starting pitchers to break up the workload.
If someone is rehabbing and needs to throw a flat-ground session or a simulated game, one of the bullpen catchers will be on the receiving end. They’ll play catch with the relievers. They’ll long toss with that night’s starting pitcher — Camacaro typically partnered with Trevor Bauer, who preferred to launch his throws from the E. 9th Street Pier.
“That’s the craziest part,” Mike Clevinger said. “(Camacaro) had to do arm care just to make sure he could long toss (with Bauer) on top of throwing batting practice.”
Bullpen catchers do a lot. Despite Camacaro’s ability shown here, they aren’t required to participate in the reliever’s daily soccer session. (Darren Yamashita / USA Today)They’ll throw a round of batting practice, shag fly balls and then grab a bite to eat in the clubhouse. Then, it’s time to warm up the starting pitcher in the bullpen before first pitch. As the game progresses, they warm up the relievers, with bullpen coach Scott Atchison monitoring every throw.
“They’re unsung heroes,” Clevinger said. “Not just preparing the baseballs, but catching all of my spiked heaters and spiked sliders and having to deal with my long toss.”
Pitchers can also lean on them for guidance. Pacione and Camacaro catch the relievers more often than Roberto Pérez and Kevin Plawecki do.
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Nick Goody: “They’ve seen me when I was good. They’ve seen me when I’m struggling. They don’t step on anybody’s toes, but if I ask, they give me feedback. They catch you every day, so they can see, ‘Hey, you might be doing this or you might be doing that.’ I don’t have an ego. Just show me. What am I doing? Or tell me so I can be at my best.”
Nick Wittgren: “They’re really resourceful. If they’re catching me all the time and let’s say I throw a terrible slider or something and I ask them, ‘Hey, was that good or was that not as good as my other ones from yesterday or the day before?’ ‘No, you were kind of on the side a bit. It’s looking like your arm’s dropping.’ They can pick up fine details, just because they catch you all the time.”
Clevinger: “The other day, my slider was getting kind of flat when we were playing catch. (Camacaro) was like, ‘Try to move your fingers up a little more on the grip. Maybe your hand is sliding back a little bit.’ And sure as shit, my hand was just sliding back a little bit on the baseball, causing me to stay under it. When I moved my hand back up, I got my slider back. Those are little things they can notice just by catching me repetitively over and over.”
Pacione also plays a couple of extra roles: team barber and team poet.
Now, no interview subject would provide a sampling of Pacione’s prose, but each offered a sly grin, as if to suggest the material isn’t suitable for public consumption.
“Who told you about the poetry?” Pacione asked.
Pacione said he simply jots down anything that comes to his mind. Or, someone will say something “completely outlandish,” he’ll “take that and run with it,” compose his piece, stand up and recite it.
“He’s very clever at times and we get a kick out of it,” Tyler Clippard said.
Yet, Pacione, a finance major at Marist College, said English might have been his worst subject.
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“It’s all in the delivery,” Pacione said.
Those early innings, before relievers get loose, often host light-hearted conversations. The relievers will pay attention, picking up hitters’ tendencies and keeping tabs on when the bullpen phone might buzz. But if they sat on the bench, tight-lipped and refusing to break concentration, they might exhaust their brainpower by the time they enter the game in a pressure-packed moment.
“You have to keep it light for as long as you can up until the point where it’s time to get going,” Adam Cimber said. “If you’re down there ripping your hair out from the first inning on, it’s going to be tough if you go extra innings and it’s the 11th or 12th and you’ve been stressing for four hours already.”
So, there is plenty of laughing and teasing, plenty of discussions about memes or viral videos or current events or, get this, baseball. Pacione will do impersonations or spur debate with a “Would You Rather…” question.
“He’s just always talking,” Cimber said.
“Ricky is the ringleader of loosening things up,” Otero said. “We’re like a little frat down there.”
When a teammate pointed out a hole in the nether regions of Goody’s jeans last week, Goody immediately knew it would surface as a conversation topic in the bullpen later that night.
“Everybody cracks on everybody,” Goody said. “I get cracked on a lot.”
”Not every team has guys like that that have those cool personalities that can really loosen up the bullpen,” Clippard said, “which I think is an important dynamic to have. I think that’s one of the most important things.”
And it might be Pacione’s favorite part of the job, just one of his countless tasks.
“They do a lot of little, tedious stuff,” Clippard said. “They definitely don’t get noticed (by the public), but they do a lot of work.”
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Pacione wouldn’t change a thing.
“Not to sound complacent, but I love what I’m doing right now,” Pacione said. “As long as I’m physically able, I’d like to do it as long as I can.”
(Photo: Rick Scuteri / USA Today)
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