Josh Satow sits in the dugout after the ASU baseball team's 17th consecutive victory to start the season.
His forearms are crossed loosely over his knees.
His symmetrical smile perks up the brown freckles that adorn his cheeks. He exemplifies contentment, not because he pitched and got the win — his shoulder would already be packed with ice if he had.
Satow delays his postgame shower as if removing his jersey is of painful consequence, perhaps because he isn't really supposed to be sitting here, especially as the senior ace of college baseball's dominating giant.
Satow, 22, is as abstract as the moon. A face can be made out, but it's not always clear if it's his until he's pressed with right questions.
When probed about his pitching struggles, he jests, then gets serious with a philosophical explanation. But when asked about his parent's divorce and the subsequent death of his father, he peers out onto the empty field, clears his throat and begins to tell his real story.
His voice loses its sure confidence but still conveys the true impetus behind his rise, which just four years ago, even he could not foresee.
Satow was the varsity ace at Desert Mountain High School in Scottsdale for three years, leaving behind a pile of school pitching records. But even his own coach knew Satow's attempt at playing college baseball at major program was tantamount to an impulsive man lingering around the craps table.
"People have told him all his life that he can't do it," Desert Mountain coach Bryan Rice said. "He's too small. He doesn't throw hard enough.
"But on the field, he was a gamer," baseball speak for hard-nosed and unflappable.
Just as Satow was finishing his impressive high school career, he was dealt a personal blow. His parents' marriage of more than 25 years was over, and suddenly his praised ability to cope on the mound was tested off it.
"It was hard to deal with," Satow said. "I always had that hanging over my head. Being out on my own, it was a big adjustment. I really had to grow up a lot."
Rice said Satow kept to himself, harboring the burden in his own mind.
"He didn't need to lean on me," Rice said. "He has an inner strength."
Fortitude was exactly what this young man would need, should he realize his hopes of playing baseball for ASU.
Satow, generously listed at 5 feet 9 inches and 165 pounds, might need to stand on the dugout's top step to exceed the height of your younger brother. The fastball in his arsenal wasn't fast by any measure, hovering around 82 mph on the radar gun.
When Satow became a collegiate student-athlete, he may have wanted to be around more than ASU wanted him, saying he would play for a Snickers bar if the NCAA authorized it.
Satow's new coach at ASU, the enigmatic Pat Murphy, was prepared to pay for Satow's books, about $400 worth, but not much else. He hadn't invested much in a relationship that would eventually pay off exponentially.
"He didn't know if he'd ever play here as a freshman," Murphy said. "He was standing around with his eyes as big as they can be.
"If we thought enough about him, we might have let him go."
Satow stuck, long enough to begin the vaunted transformation, one he incorrectly believed would hinge on his physical makeup. A couple of rough intrasquad games into the offseason, Satow said realizing his family was broken was still an issue. It cost him the chance to buy into Murphy's message.
"I was just showing up and going through the motions," he said. "I got in my head, 'Am I meant to be here?'
"I was going through a rough period in my life at the time. I kept getting sidetracked by everything else."
Murphy gave Satow a taste of the college baseball stage for a few weeks in 2005, warming him up in the bullpen, only to sit him back down.
In the midst of his mental faze, Satow made one of his four relief appearances during his freshman season against one of the nation's top hitters, UA's Trevor Crowe, now a burgeoning prospect in the Cleveland Indians organization.
Satow simply remembers him as a "big guy."
"First pitch, he hit an absolute line drive right past my head," Satow remembers. "It was ridiculous. I didn't even see it, only heard it.'"
Murphy redefined the term "quick hook," lifting Satow immediately.
"He didn't say one word to me," Satow said. "I was like, 'Wow, I'm done.'"
The astute, aged Satow now offers the clarity of hindsight.
"It's all mental; it's all about how you look at the game," he said. "Instead of just going out throwing and not worrying about results, I would second-guess myself, second-guess what I was doing."
In the series finale against UA the next day, Murphy phoned Satow from the dugout and said, "Get hot." Satow planned to climb the mound with his cleats laced a little looser, his feet moving a little slower.
"I was getting warm, and I was like, 'I've hit rock bottom,'" he said. "'I can't do any worse than I've already done, so what's to lose?'
"It was a huge life lesson."
During his campaign the following summer with the Anchorage Glacier Pilots in the Alaska Baseball League, Satow got away from the moment, only to find that he wanted to keep his hope alive.
So Satow returned to Tempe for a second go, his cleats laced a little tighter and his feet moving a little faster. Then his coach, as he does all so well, knocked Satow down again.
"Murph was like, 'You're here?'"
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Satow was dazing off in the media room as a sophomore in April 2006, just before ASU was to face conference foe UCLA.
Murphy, as usual, was in command of the room as he laid out the game plan. Satow remembers sitting in the back, yawning. In retrospect, he wasn't sure if his eyes were open; he only knew that the one thing Murphy didn't command was his attention.
"SATOW! You're starting," Murphy yelled.
"What?" Satow asked.
"What?" everyone else questioned too.
Satow said he threw "horribly" in the 'pen as he tried to calm the jitters associated with a first career start.
"I thought, 'They're not expecting much,'" he said.
"I just started going after it, and I started gaining more confidence."
When Satow was lifted this time, he had thrown five innings of one-run ball and struck out 10 Bruin batters. An ASU baseball employee remembers thinking, "Who the hell is this kid?"
"I think Murph said that too," Satow added.
It was a renaissance for Satow. He entered 2007 as the ace of the staff, leading the Sun Devils to the College World Series. A Second Team All-America selection, he won 13 games and pocketed a paltry 2.76 ERA. And as most juniors with a major league chance do, Satow considered the jump to professional baseball, especially when the Seattle Mariners selected him in the MLB draft's 28th round.
The kid with a mid-90s fastball and nasty hook likely wouldn't last that long. But Satow's "stuff," baseball aficionados like to say, won't crowd your mind with attributes save for one: control.
When Satow has it, his changeup forces hitters out on their front foot, and his fastball suddenly seems so much faster because of it. Crafty pitchers get their moniker for getting by with less. Satow gets by with much less.
"Physically, I can't throw harder," he said. "I can't make the ball move more. The only way for me to grow is mentally."
After discussion with Murphy, Satow ultimately decided he wanted more of college and now stands just two online courses from graduation beyond this semester.
"I'd love to pitch in the pros if it works out," he said. "If it doesn't, then I know I did my best and I won't have regrets.
"I've faced [professional hitters]. But hopefully they won't hit a missile past my head next time."
As his senior season, and therefore the team's win-streak, was set to begin, Satow got the news that might force others to hit rock bottom again. Those around him knew too well he wouldn't.
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Russ to Josh Satow wasn't exactly Bobby to Barry Bonds. But Josh also said his dad was integral to his growth in baseball. Satow's dad jumped on Interstate-10 West each time his son began a series with USC or UCLA in Los Angeles.
"My dad was a huge supporter," Satow remembers. "I don't know that there was a time when he missed a game.
"He was the kind of dad who liked to coach even though he didn't know how old you were. I could still hear him yelling at me from the stands last year, telling me what pitches to throw."
Russ seemed to live vicariously through his more adept son.
"It was me teaching my dad about baseball," Satow said, smiling. "I always remember going to the park with him every night. He would be all decked out in catcher's gear, sitting on the bucket, and I'd throw to him, and he'd miss 'em all."
The elder Satow died at the age of 55 in mid-January as his son's ballclub was hard at work with spring practice. Josh said the absence of his dad in the stands this season has proven to be another powerful lesson.
"I'm just out there in memory of him," he said. "It really makes you realize how fragile life is.
"Death sits right on your shoulder. You try to ignore it, and you don't think it's there, but it's always there. You have to enjoy special times. In baseball, my freshman year, I took it for granted."
Murphy helped Satow shoulder the load of his father's passing, giving his ace a week off to regain his mental edge.
"Everyone uses him as a crutch when they need help," Satow said of Murphy. "When my dad died, Coach called me every day, asking if I need needed anything."
Murphy has been impressed at how well his pitcher has dealt with the second punch, one that would hold captive the breath of most.
"He went through a lot," Murphy said. "A tough pill to swallow. The kid has been incredible."
When Satow began to struggle on the mound early this season, he began to search for the mechanical error, a tangible one that Satow soon realized didn't exist.
The solution arrived during a dugout conversation with who else but a true freshman.
The game before Satow had his best outing, 7 2/3 innings and seven strikeouts versus Arkansas on March 12, he conversed with freshman starting pitcher Seth Blair about the mental side of the game.
"Giving him some things I've learned and try to pass it on, it took me talking to Seth to really realize that's me, that's what I'm doing," Satow said. "I was trying to push for results and you can't do that. You just got to let it happen."
Murphy marveled at the connection between players seemingly at the start and end of their college careers, and furthermore, life experiences.
"When you got players that are that sincere with each other and care about each other enough to share information, that is the beauty of team," he said.
Then the coach chuckled over his new power-armed left-hander.
"He pumped a few pitches at 88 mph," Murphy said after Satow's start. "When has that ever happened?"
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It's the same motion every time. His eyes creep over the top of his black mitt. His left leg back, his right knee to his belt, his arms crown his head. All momentum, building up, a little bit at a time, to the pitch.
Satow (3-1) has said the No. 2 Sun Devils have the deepest pitching staff since he arrived; no longer is there a superfluous young lefty buried at the back end of the 'pen. And after four years of anonymity, heartache and, finally, culmination, Satow sits atop the staff, letting go of it all, one pitch at a time.
"He stuck with it, and he emerged into something pretty darn special," Murphy said. "He's a great testament to anybody who believes in their own stuff and doesn't try to be anybody but themselves."
Reach the reporter at: apentis@asu.edu.
