Doc: The last tango at GABP for Johnny Beisbol?

To some, pitching isn't all mechanics and saber-statistics. It is a dance.

Johnny Cueto is mindful of the need to deliver a pitch properly, and what can happen if he doesn't, both on the field and in the operating room. He knows enough numbers that he is a master of situations, of what to throw a specific batter at a specific time.

It's not what makes him good.

It's the dancing. Not literally, of course, though with his different motions and deliveries, accompanied by that perfect thatch of carefully constructed hair, Cueto comes as close to dancing on the mound as any pitcher since Luis Tiant.

It's the way he feels a game as much as throws it. Pitching is a flamenco to Cueto, as much about the passion as the choreography. The steps are important, but no more than the emotion that guides them.

"Every year he comes out with some other little twist'' was how Bryan Price explained it. "The Luis Tiant turn, the hesitations, the quick pitches. All those tempos and rotations.''

Cueto follows a time-honored pitching mantra. He works fast, he throws strikes, he changes speeds. That's not what defines him. It's the dancing. Cueto corkscrews and pauses at the top of the cork, before delivering. He corkscrews and doesn't stop. He doesn't corkscrew at all, pitching quickly instead.

He throws from different arm angles. Most starters "have two good pitches and one so-so. He's got five good pitches he can throw any time he wants,'' said catcher Brayan Pena. Cueto can samba, he can tango, he can waltz. He doesn't skip beats.

Cueto went eight innings Wednesday afternoon, in what could be the last time Reds fans will see him pitch at home. Business is what it is, and it is sometimes savage. The Reds can't afford the best pitcher they've produced in a couple generations, so he very likely will be traded soon, while he's entirely healthy and his value is high. That's the hope, anyway. Or should be.

No one wants to see Cueto leave. Not even Cueto. Almost everyone understands that trading him to a thick-walleted team positioned for October is the smart local play. To keep him all season, then lose him to free agency (for just a draft pick in return) would hurt the team's effort to retool.

Thankfully, there is almost no chance The Big Man will give in to sentimentality and pay Cueto, say, $200 million for seven years. That would wreck his team. The only question is when Johnny Beisbol will leave, and where he will go.

If you were among the 26,459 at GASP Wednesday, you saw a Cueto show worth hanging on a wall: Eight innings, four hits, one run that scored on a ground out, one walk, eight strikeouts.

How does Cueto work? Pick a batter, any batter. How 'bout Minnesota shortstop Eduardo Nunez, the second batter of the game? His was an eight-pitch at-bat that went like this:

Slider, slider (swinging strike), fastball, changeup (swinging strike). Fastball, changeup, changeup, fastball (swinging strike). Three different pitches, delivered at speeds from 81 to 93 mph; two quick-pitch fastballs in a row, followed by two changeups, one 83 mph, the other 81.

Nunez struck out, then went to the Twins clubhouse for some Dramamine.

I asked Todd Frazier, currently committing indiscriminate, first-degree assault on major-league pitching, for a plan if he had to face Cueto, which within a month could be a reality.

"The movement would affect me,'' Frazier said. "The quick, the slow, the in-between. I don't like that at all. I don't think most batters do. It messes with your timing. I'd probably pick a spot outside and look for a fastball.''

After the game, Cueto stood at his locker, translator Tomas Vera by his side. By now, it's something of a game Cueto plays with the media. He understands the questions, and could give passable answers in English, if he chose. When someone suggested this might have been his last appearance as a Red in Cincinnati, Cueto smiled and chuckled before Vera repeated the query in Spanish.

Cueto said what all players in his situation say. His agent is still talking to the Reds. Cueto likes the fans, he likes his teammates, he likes Cincinnati, he wants to stay here. He isn't thinking about being traded, only about pitching. Only about the beautiful dance, once every five days.

Cueto's outfit suggested otherwise: He wore matching shorts and shirt, each imprinted with dollar bills. He claimed it was coincidental. "I didn't notice,'' Cueto laughed. "(But) you say (that) and now I think, you know what? I hope that happens.''

Mr. Beisbol pitched brilliantly Wednesday. If that was to be his last tango here, he left 'em cheering.