PLANT CITY, Fla. - Kent Mercker wearied of all the changeups.
He tired of the full-count breaking balls, of looking for targets within targets, of guessing with hitters when they should have been guessing with him.
Mercker, the left-hander raised in a staff that included Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine and John Smoltz, didn't want to hide his suddenly mediocre fastball anymore.
So he stopped. He stopped, because he knew it would make him a better pitcher. He stopped, because doing it the other way embarrassed him.
Humiliation in places such as Baltimore and Cleveland, though, can serve as motivation in, say, Cincinnati.
Gone are the lessons in mechanics from Orioles pitching coach Pat Dobson, whose instruction was lost on Mercker. Gone is the pressure to throw a cut fastball because the straight one meant surrender.
Mercker is scheduled to start today against the St. Louis Cardinals in St. Petersburg. It is his first spring start for the Reds, a club that desperately needs him to take up a piece of its rotation.
''I'm going to work on getting my old pitching philosophy back,'' Mercker said Saturday morning. ''I'm a power pitcher, and I'm going to pitch like a power pitcher. The key to my success is going to be off my fastball.
''I'm going to pound that old style back. I may throw 12 fastballs in a row. I used to.''
In 1994, at the height of his career in Atlanta, Mercker no-hit the Dodgers with 130 pitches - 111 of them fastballs.
Last season, away from cozy Atlanta and pitching coach Leo Mazzone, Mercker came undone in Baltimore, where he had a 7.76 ERA in 14 appearances, 12 of them starts. In some of those starts he would throw up to 35 changeups, in nothing close to 130 pitches.
Golfers go to long putters. Pitchers go to changeups and breaking balls, anything to keep from exposing the fastball.
Mercker's mechanics became so foreign while in Baltimore that his fastball could no longer be trusted. He walked more batters than he struck out for the first time in his career. When he needed to throw one, Mercker said, ''It was like, 'Here it comes at 82. Guys were saying, 'There it goes.'Ç''
And so there he went - to Cleveland, in exchange for an aging Eddie Murray. It was there Mercker discovered a guru in Orel Hershiser, whom he credited for reviving his fastball and, therefore, his career.
''I was embarrassed,'' he said. ''That's the first time I can say I was embarrassed by my pitching. The Orioles brought me over there to win, and I didn't do that.
''Everyone brings up Pat Dobson, but it just didn't work for me. That's not to say that for a hundred other guys, he might be their favorite pitching coach.''
Hershiser was in the Dodgers' dugout the night Mercker threw his no-hitter, and therefore saw him at his best. Apparently, what Mercker had become resembled nothing like the previous guy, the guy with all the promise.
''Man, Merck,'' Hershiser wondered one day, ''I've seen you pitch a lot. When did you start doing that?''
Hershiser helped Mercker pull it all apart, put it back together and take it to a mound. Cincinnati's, as it turned out. Before Hershiser, Mercker said, ''I was out there self-helping myself against big-league hitters, getting paid $4 million a year to drive in 100 runs.''
It all feels new to Mercker, just like it used to.
''I'm not pitching for a spot right now,'' he said, ''I'm looking to get back to where I was. If I get there, I'm going to have a spot.''
GAME REPORT
DEION: RACISM STILL IN BASEBALL
DAUGHERTY: OK, DEION, IT'S TIME TO PLAY BALL
