Bill Mosiello? He's the associate head coach at TCU and serves as their hitting coach. His nickname is the "Hit Doctor".
I only bring him up because I had a college head coach friend tell me he thought he was going to interview. I hadn't heard of him before.
The Hit Doctor won 383 minor league games as a manager (.566 win %) and coached under Augie Garrido at CSF and under Dave Serrano at Tennessee.
Although I didn't know of him before, I am intrigued now. Here is a short story from Todd Helton on Mosiello
I only bring him up because I had a college head coach friend tell me he thought he was going to interview. I hadn't heard of him before.
The Hit Doctor won 383 minor league games as a manager (.566 win %) and coached under Augie Garrido at CSF and under Dave Serrano at Tennessee.
Although I didn't know of him before, I am intrigued now. Here is a short story from Todd Helton on Mosiello
Behind every hit, from the time Todd Helton was a raw major-league rookie in 1997 through the final home runs of his Cooperstown-worthy career, which has just two weeks to go, the best player in Rockies history had a secret weapon.
His name is Bill Mosiello. He's the Hit Doctor, always on call 24/7. The good doctor might prescribe a slump remedy at 3 a.m. or lend a friendly ear to Helton, a strong, silent type who would rather growl than reveal how much every strikeout gnawed at his gut.
Toddy Ballgame and Dr. Hit don't live in the same town. But make no mistake: This is a bromance as real as a bone-crushing handshake. It is a relationship between mentor and student that has been going strong more than 20 years, from the time when Helton was a freshman at the University of Tennessee and Mosiello was his coach.
"To this day, if I don't feel good at the plate, he's the first person I call," Helton said of the hitting guru he calls "Mo."
Mo insight, Mo care, Mo important.
"He knows hitting," Helton said. "And he watches every one of my at-bats. He can tell me: 'Three days ago in that second at-bat, you were on that first pitch, and you didn't get it? What were you thinking?' He watches the entire at-bat. And he sees every little thing."
His name is Bill Mosiello. He's the Hit Doctor, always on call 24/7. The good doctor might prescribe a slump remedy at 3 a.m. or lend a friendly ear to Helton, a strong, silent type who would rather growl than reveal how much every strikeout gnawed at his gut.
Toddy Ballgame and Dr. Hit don't live in the same town. But make no mistake: This is a bromance as real as a bone-crushing handshake. It is a relationship between mentor and student that has been going strong more than 20 years, from the time when Helton was a freshman at the University of Tennessee and Mosiello was his coach.
"To this day, if I don't feel good at the plate, he's the first person I call," Helton said of the hitting guru he calls "Mo."
Mo insight, Mo care, Mo important.
"He knows hitting," Helton said. "And he watches every one of my at-bats. He can tell me: 'Three days ago in that second at-bat, you were on that first pitch, and you didn't get it? What were you thinking?' He watches the entire at-bat. And he sees every little thing."
