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Wetzel a visionary hitting
coach
By Bob Cohn
THE WASHINGTON TIMES
OMAHA, Neb. — Despite its
recent expansion, Johnny Rosenblatt Stadium still
affords a pretty good view of the College World Series
from just about any seat. Unless you are Mark Wetzel.
Wetzel, 54, is a local
hitting coach of some renown. He also can hardly see
because of macular degeneration that started when he was
14. Asked how his eyesight is measured, he said, "I can
see two fingers at three feet."
Always upbeat, ever cheerful, the short, stocky
Wetzel takes delight in referring to himself as "The
Blind Guy." The native Nebraskan gives motivational
speeches, imploring people to do anything they want to
do.
But mainly, he teaches hitting. Dozens of area kids go to Wetzel to
have their swings adjusted or altered. A few college
coaches have asked him to work with their players. One
of Wetzel's prized pupils is Arkansas freshman
outfielder Jake Dugger, who was 9 when he started seeing
Wetzel. Dugger came home with his Razorbacks teammates
as one of the eight teams in the CWS (they were
subsequently the first team eliminated).
Wetzel, with his binoculars, watched from a seat
down the right-field line. A friend, Dan Geier, drove
him to the game.
"This guy is a miracle worker," Geier said. "There's
no other way to put it."
So how does Wetzel do it?
"I can't recognize my wife, kids or mother by their
faces, but I've developed peripheral vision very well,"
he said. "I can see the outline [of the player]. I can
see the bat. I can tell by where the bat is, where the
front elbow is. What I really look for in a hitter is
where are the hands when the front foot hits the
ground."
Wetzel added he can tell by the sound of the bat
whether a swing needs adjustment. Then he laughed and
said, "I don't know how I do it."
Wetzel, who is friends with big-league hitting coach
Merv Rettenmund, Los Angeles Dodgers scout Mitch Webster
and former batting champion Tony Gwynn, has a barn with
a dirt floor and two batting cages that he calls his
"laboratory." He also has a big screen television ("The
biggest we can get.") he watches from a distance of
about eight inches.
A pretty fair ballplayer until his sight began to
deteriorate, Wetzel believes there is nothing he, or
others, cannot accomplish. Once, a driver's license
"fell into my hands," he said.
"They said I could never drive," he said. "And I
shouldn't have. Every day was a chase scene. But don't
tell me you can't hit a curveball."
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