01:00 AM EDT on Sunday, May 14, 2006

Former major-league catcher and baseball icon Bob Uecker once said the best way to catch a knuckleball is to wait until it stops rolling.

Former big league outfielder Rick Monday once said of Phil Niekro's knuckleball: "It actually giggles at you as it goes by."

"Trying to hit Niekro," said former Yankees outfielder Bobby Murcer, "was like trying to eat Jell-O with chopsticks."

It's not only hard to hit a knuckleball, it's hard to catch it. Josh Bard, who was appointed Tim Wakefield's personal catcher in spring training, never got the hang of it. After he allowed 10 passed balls in five games, the Red Sox reacquired Doug Mirabelli -- who'd caught Wakefield from mid-2001 through 2005 -- to handle the 39-year-old knuckleballer.

But to the average Joe in the stands, it looks so easy. The ball floats up to the plate at 65 miles per hour. It looks like it hangs in midair. Why is it so difficult to hit? Or catch?

That's what I attempted to find out Thursday morning.

Just warming up

Dressed in Pawtucket Red Sox road pants, a warm-up shirt and a batting-practice cap, I walked from the clubhouse to the bullpen at McCoy Stadium prior to the team's noontime start Thursday against the Syracuse SkyChiefs. I was asked numerous times by fans in the stands for an autograph.

"You don't want mine," I told them. "I'm nobody."

I was about to prove it.

Charlie Zink, who throws the knuckleball for the PawSox, agreed to let me catch him during a brief 10-minute bullpen session. Members of the team's pitching staff -- most of whom who won't even play catch with Zink because of the way his ball dances -- wanted to know if I had a good insurance policy. And if I was wearing a cup.

Zink said he didn't have a good feel for the pitch at the moment, and the damp weather wouldn't help much; in other words, the ball wouldn't move as much as it normally does. He was probably only trying to help my confidence.

We played catch to help him loosen up. I thought it would be tough, but the first one he threw had some spin to it. My depth perception was fine so I could see the ball rotating. I caught it without any problem.

As Zink loosened up and he saw me getting comfortable with the ball, he started to unleash the good stuff. The ball, at eye level, was no longer spinning and became tougher to pick up. A few got by me. I heard a few laughs from the audience -- PawSox pitching coach Mike Griffin, a few of the pitchers, bullpen catcher Joe Voccio and official scorer Bruce Guindon.

Finally, Zink was loose.

"You ready?" he called down.

"If you're ready, I'm ready," I replied.

"Let's go," he said.

It takes patience

"You need a lot of patience when the ball is coming to you. The ball is moving so much, you can't sit there and try to catch every movement because it doesn't stop moving until you catch it."

On Friday night at Fenway Park, Mirabelli talked about catching the knuckleball. He does it so well that not only did the Red Sox bring him back six months after they traded him, but they arranged for a state-police escort to get him from the airport to the ballpark in time to catch Wakefield in a start against the Yankees two weeks ago.

"I've been doing it for a long time," he said, "and that's part of the battle."

One of the things he's learned over the years is how to approach the job.

"The main thing is to relax," said Mirabelli. "Having two strikes raises your anxiety level [because a passed ball on a third strike could allow the batter to reach]. A guy gets to first and you think he's going to steal. Or a guy gets to third and can score on a passed ball."

What makes it worse with a runner on third is that the pitcher frequently ramps up little something extra to deliver his best and nastiest knuckleball.

"Those are the times you have to relax even more," he said.

Easier said than done.

Getting down and dirty

The oversized mitt felt like a trash can cover on my hand. It was uncomfortable, but I kept it on.

"Use whatever you need to catch it," Zink said. "I don't get paid to catch it, I get paid to throw it."

The first few pitches had some rotation to them, and they were catchable. I didn't have to stab at them; they came right to me.

Griffin, who was monitoring the bullpen session, told Zink, "Four more [pitches] left." Zink then reached down and dirtied his hand with some clay on the mound, rubbed them up, and got back on the rubber.

And then I realized what poor Josh Bard went through.

The pitches started dancing uncontrollably. I was almost seeing double. The bottom started to fall out as it reached the plate, and I found myself trying to make basket catches.

"Two left," called out Griffin.

That's when things got real nasty.

Pitches 9 and 10 . . . no chance. There was no rotation at all. The Rawlings logo was unreadable because the ball was moving so much. Both pitches bounced off my glove and rolled away.

"Good enough?" asked Griffin.

"Good enough," I replied.

Zink smiled. "Sorry," he called out. "Didn't have it today."

An exclusive club

As tough as is to catch it, it's just as tough to throw.

"Not a lot of people [throw] it," said Wakefield. "so to be able to talk to somebody about doing what you're doing, means a lot. It meant a lot to me to talk to [veteran knuckleballers Charlie] Hough, [Tom] Candiotti, and both Phil and Joe Niekro. I know how lonely you can feel some times.

"You might struggle and nobody can tell you what to do. There's a certain feeling you have and you can't describe it to anybody, but if you talk to somebody who throws it, they understand."

Zink, who's had a lot of success this season with his knuckleball, received guidance from Wakefield and Hough during the winter. Zink and Wakefield haven't talked yet this year, but Wakefield said he would help Zink, with no hesitation, if he was looking for some advice.

"This game is hard enough," he said. "That's why there's less and less [knuckleballers] who make it here."

Zink's hidden talent

But as tough as is to throw and catch, it can just as hard to hit. Teams have brought in amateur or semi-pro knuckleballers to pitch batting practice when their batters are about to face Wakefield, but it's questionable whether it helps. By definition, their knucklers aren't in Wakefield's class.

Zink was signed by the Red Sox as a free agent in 2002 and at the time he was a 6-foot-1 right-hander who consistently threw in the low- to mid-90s. He knew he could throw a knuckleball and one day told his trainer in Low-A Augusta. The trainer didn't believe him and said throw one as the pair was playing catch. Zink unleashed one, the trainer missed it and cut his eye wide open.

That's when Zink's knuckleball career officially started.

Mine ended very quickly Thursday morning. Although I only caught it, I felt like my vision was impaired. And, if you truly believe you can hit the specialty pitch, ponder this: Wakefield has 32 strikeouts in 51 1/3 innings as a starter this season. Zink, a reliever, has 12 in 13 1/3 innings.

My only advice: let the ball come to you. Whatever you do, don't jab at it. Your body basically needs to be a shock absorber, and your arms need to be loose.

Even if you do all that, it's still not easy.

After catching Zink's bullpen session, it's safe to say I won't be getting a state-police escort to Fenway Park anytime soon.

jmcdonal@projo.com / (401) 277-7340

EDITOR'S NOTE: Joe McDonald played baseball at Cranston East High and Community College of Rhode Island. McDonald was CCRI's starting second baseman when the Anchormen went to the 1992 Junior College World Series in Grand Junction, Colo.