An inside fastball. Cal Raleigh’s swing gets out front this time, makes contact, almost guessing. The ball jumps toward left field. Zach Cole breaks to his right, dives, and hauls it in. As Raleigh walks back to the dugout, the pitcher doesn’t even celebrate much. He’s seen it before. The whole league has seen it over the past two weeks.

Slump chronology

1. 28/4/2026: Sinker, count: 2-0, Top 9, hit distance: 292, field out, at bat pitches: 3, SEA 5, MIN 1.

2. 28/4/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 0-1, Top 6, Hit Distance: 150, field out, at bat pitches: 2, SEA 0, MIN 1.

3. 28/4/2026: Cutter, Count: 0-0, Top 8, Hit Distance: 324, field out, at bat pitches: 1, SEA 2, MIN 1.

4. 28/4/2026: Split-Finger, Count: 2-2, Top 3, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 7, SEA 0, MIN 0.

5. 28/4/2026: Knuckle Curve, Count: 0-2, Top 1, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 3, SEA 0, MIN 0.

6. 29/4/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 3-2, Top 6, Hit Distance: 327, field out, at bat pitches: 7, SEA 1, MIN 2.

7. 29/4/2026: Split-Finger, Count: 3-2, Top 1, Hit Distance: , walk, at bat pitches: 7, SEA 0, MIN 0.

8. 29/4/2026: Sinker, Count: 3-2, Top 9, Hit Distance: 396, sac fly, at bat pitches: 9, SEA 4, MIN 3.

9. 29/4/2026: Split-Finger, Count: 1-0, Top 3, Hit Distance: 1, field out, at bat pitches: 2, SEA 1, MIN 0.

10. 29/4/2026: Slider, Count: 1-2, Top 8, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 4, SEA 2, MIN 2.

11. 1/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 0-0, Bot 9, Hit Distance: 164, field out, at bat pitches: 1, SEA 6, SEA 7.

12. 1/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 2-2, Bot 1, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 5, SEA 0, SEA 4.

13. 1/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 2-2, Bot 3, Hit Distance: 18, field out, at bat pitches: 6, SEA 2, SEA 4.

14. 1/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 3-0, Bot 5, Hit Distance: , walk, at bat pitches: 4, SEA 3, SEA 4.

15. 1/5/2026: Sinker, Count: 3-2, Bot 7, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 9, SEA 4, SEA 6.

16. 5/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 1-2, Bot 5, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 5, SEA 2, SEA 2.

17. 5/5/2026: Changeup, Count: 1-2, Bot 8, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 4, SEA 2, SEA 2.

18. 5/5/2026: Slider, Count: 1-2, Bot 3, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 5, SEA 2, SEA 0.

19. 5/5/2026: Slider, Count: 1-2, Bot 1, Hit Distance: 33, field out, at bat pitches: 4, SEA 0, SEA 0.

20. 6/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 3-2, Bot 7, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 8, SEA 2, SEA 0.

21. 6/5/2026: Changeup, Count: 2-2, Bot 6, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 5, SEA 1, SEA 0.

22. 6/5/2026: Changeup, Count: 2-1, Bot 3, Hit Distance: 128, grounded into double play, at bat pitches: 4, SEA 0, SEA 0.

23. 6/5/2026: Curveball, Count: 0-0, Bot 1, Hit Distance: 297, field out, at bat pitches: 1, SEA 0, SEA 0.

24. 8/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 0-2, Top 1, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 3, SEA 0, CWS 0.

25. 8/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 0-2, Top 4, Hit Distance: 104, field out, at bat pitches: 4, SEA 5, CWS 5.

26. 8/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 0-0, Top 3, Hit Distance: 323, field out, at bat pitches: 1, SEA 1, CWS 1.

27. 8/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 1-2, Top 8, Hit Distance: 308, field out, at bat pitches: 7, SEA 9, CWS 5.

28. 8/5/2026: Curveball, Count: 2-2, Top 6, Hit Distance: 3, field out, at bat pitches: 5, SEA 6, CWS 5.

29. 9/5/2026: Sinker, Count: 3-2, Top 5, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 7, SEA 1, CWS 4.

30. 9/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 3-2, Top 8, Hit Distance: 239, field out, at bat pitches: 6, SEA 1, CWS 5.

31. 9/5/2026: Changeup, Count: 2-2, Top 3, Hit Distance: 12, force out, at bat pitches: 9, SEA 0, CWS 2.

32. 9/5/2026: Changeup, Count: 0-2, Top 1, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 3, SEA 0, CWS 0.

33. 10/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 0-2, Top 3, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 3, SEA 1, CWS 0.

34. 10/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 3-2, Top 6, Hit Distance: , walk, at bat pitches: 9, SEA 1, CWS 0.

35. 10/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 0-0, Top 8, Hit Distance: 254, field out, at bat pitches: 1, SEA 1, CWS 0.

36. 10/5/2026: Slider, Count: 2-2, Top 1, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 5, SEA 0, CWS 0.

37. 11/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 1-1, Top 3, Hit Distance: 255, field out, at bat pitches: 3, SEA 3, HOU 0.

38. 11/5/2026: 4-Seam Fastball, Count: 0-0, Top 9, Hit Distance: 274, field out, at bat pitches: 1, SEA 3, HOU 1.

39. 11/5/2026: Slider, Count: 2-2, Top 2, Hit Distance: , strikeout, at bat pitches: 5, SEA 0, HOU 0.

40. 11/5/2026: Slider, Count: 1-1, Top 6, Hit Distance: 287, field out, at bat pitches: 3, SEA 3, HOU 1.

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Raleigh is 0-for-36 over his last 40 plate appearances. He’s struck out 16 times. He has just three walks. His bat has produced nine batted balls with exit velocities above 100 mph, but six of them have landed foul. Every swing looks like controlled chaos. He has 32 swings and misses — a 30.2% rate. Brutal. His 21 balls put in play haven’t produced a single hit. He’s striking out 40% of the time. Right now, he’s the safest out in baseball, even when he flashes the swing that led the Majors with 60 home runs and the American League with 125 RBI last season.

The league has found something. A collective antidote to Raleigh’s power and contact. That’s what makes this slump so unsettling: the sense of inevitability.

Nine games. Zero hits in 36 at-bats. Sixteen strikeouts. An All-Star suddenly turned into the kind of hitter pitchers attack with absolute tactical clarity. Because this doesn’t feel like a bad offensive week. It feels like something more modern and more brutal: a hitter trapped inside a collective scouting report.

And in 2026 baseball, once the league finds a crack, it doesn’t stop attacking it until someone proves they can close it.

When a Slump Stops Looking Like Bad Luck

There’s a point in every season where the numbers stop sounding like noise and start sounding like a warning. For Raleigh, that point arrived several games ago.

An 0-for-36 can happen to great hitters. Baseball has always had room for cruel weeks and hard-hit balls straight into a glove. But what’s happening to Seattle’s catcher doesn’t have the texture of randomness. It has the shape of a game plan.

American League pitchers appear to have found a pattern. And worse for Seattle: they’re convinced it works.

In just nine games, Raleigh has piled up 16 strikeouts and a .075 on-base percentage. Those strikeouts represent nearly 30% — 29.6%, to be exact — of his 54 total strikeouts on the season. He’s currently striking out 4.7% more often than last year, and his hard-hit rate has dropped 21% — the steepest decline of his career.

The catcher who once carried entire Seattle seasons offensively now looks perpetually caught between velocities, chasing pitches he used to let pass and arriving late to fastballs he used to punish.

That’s the troubling part. Not the absence of hits. The absence of at-bat control.

A slump can be bad luck. A pattern repeated by an entire league rarely is.

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The Anatomy of the Strikeout

How the League Began to Attack Him

The strikeout-rate maps by zone tell a brutally honest story. There are sections of the low-inside zone where Raleigh is missing virtually everything. In certain locations, pitchers are generating strikeouts nearly every time they execute correctly.

That doesn’t happen by accident.

In modern baseball, analytics departments search for tendencies that become repeatable sequences. And what they’re seeing with Raleigh is a consistent vulnerability against pitches that change speed and finish below the barrel.

The most revealing number isn’t even the near-100% strikeout rate in some inside zones. It’s the damage produced by pitches off the plate, particularly on the low-outside corner. That’s where Raleigh is expanding his swing with two strikes. That’s where the league appears to have found the door.

And then there’s the other critical deviation: pitches elevated high in the vertical zone above the plate. There, he fails with a 100% strikeout rate. Across three of the four corners outside the strike zone, his strikeout percentage sits above 50%. The lowest of those is 25%.

For years, Raleigh survived imperfect contact through raw strength. But when a hitter starts chasing pitches he can’t handle, power stops mattering. The at-bat is already lost before contact.

That’s exactly what the current data shows.

Whiff Rate

Where the Barrel Disappeared

If the strikeout map is the diagnosis, the whiff rate is the full X-ray.

There’s a low-inside zone where Raleigh’s swing-and-miss rate sits at 100%. Every time a pitcher executes there, the outcome is essentially predetermined. And in a league obsessed with repeatable patterns, that location immediately becomes the centerpiece of every scouting report.

But there’s another detail just as important: the elevated fastball.

For years, the high heater became the great equalizer of modern baseball. Even elite hitters struggle when their swing is built to attack the ball down in the zone. Raleigh belongs to that group. His swing path is designed to do damage low and to the opposite field. When fastballs start coming in above his hands, timing breaks down.

In this slump, pitchers aren’t just exploiting that weakness — they’re building entire at-bats around it.

First, they push his eyes up with velocity. Then they drop the changeup or slider toward the outer corner. The result is a hitter perpetually off balance.

And yet, something important is hiding inside the wreckage: when Raleigh does make contact in the low-inside zone, he’s still producing elite contact.

That means the power didn’t disappear.

It just stopped showing up.

The League’s Attack Plan

Fastballs Up, Off-Speed Down

The sequence pitchers are running against Raleigh has become almost industrial:

• Fastball up to disrupt timing

• Velocity change down

• Slider working away from the barrel

• Splitter dropping out of the zone

Against changeups, Raleigh is finishing at-bats with a strikeout rate approaching 60%. Against sliders, the number exceeds 66%. That’s no longer a statistical anomaly. That’s a collective approach.

And here’s perhaps the hardest number in the entire analysis: his xBA against four-seam fastballs is just .033.

That changes the entire dynamic of the matchup.

Normally, a pitcher avoids challenging the heart of the zone against a hitter with Raleigh’s power. Right now, pitchers are doing it anyway. They’re throwing velocity even in dangerous locations because they believe his timing is broken.

They’re probably right.

The Paradox of the Slump

When the Power Is Still There

The most fascinating — and perhaps most hopeful — part for Seattle lives in the hard-contact metrics.

When Raleigh does connect in the low-inside zone, he’s still generating exit velocities near 98-99 mph. Elite slugger numbers. Numbers belonging to a player capable of changing a game with a single swing.

That means he didn’t lose strength.

He didn’t lose explosiveness.

He didn’t lose the ability to do damage.

He lost access to his damage zone.

Pitchers figured out they don’t need to challenge him there. They can live up in the zone with velocity and finish down with movement. As long as Raleigh keeps chasing that low-outside pitch, the plan keeps working.

Baseball is a sport where adjustments travel from dugout to dugout faster than ever. When a league finds a crack, everyone starts hammering the same spot until the hitter responds.

That’s exactly what’s happening here.

What Comes Next

The Adjustment That Can Change Everything

The first adjustment sounds simple in theory and is brutally difficult in practice: Raleigh needs to stop chasing the low-outside pitch with two strikes.

Because right now, pitchers don’t even need to enter the strike zone to beat him.

The second adjustment matters even more: he needs to punish the changeup. Even once. Even a single swing that forces the opposition to reconsider their plan.

That’s how these modern slumps end. Not with dramatic mechanical overhauls, but with one small moment of resistance that forces the league to move somewhere else.

Because baseball works like water: it always finds the easiest crack.

Right now, the entire league is throwing at the same crack in Cal Raleigh.

The question isn’t whether he’ll break out of the 0-for-36.

The question is how long it takes before he forces pitchers to stop believing they have the answer.

And I don’t mean that in the usual “this prospect is intriguing” or “he needs time to develop” kind of way. I mean it literally. I’m not sure baseball even has the proper language yet to fully describe what he’s doing.

Because on Friday against the New York Yankees, he hit 103.6 mph multiple times. He threw 57 fastballs, and 41 of them crossed the plate at 100 mph or harder. Yes — absurd. That was 72% of his pitches. Velocity transformed into a direct threat to hitters. Fifty-four of those 57 fastballs registered at least 99 mph. Miz’s slider touched 97 mph — the same top velocity reached by his opposing pitcher, Max Fried, on any single pitch all night. And somehow, that doesn’t even feel like the most important part of the story.

Modern baseball has already seen extreme velocity before. We watched the Cuban Aroldis Chapman emerge from the bullpen as if he had been engineered inside a military laboratory. We’ve seen Jordan Hicks touch ridiculous numbers. We’ve watched Hunter Greene turn radar guns into national entertainment.

But those cases still existed within a familiar logic. The pitcher threw as hard as humanly possible for one inning, or in relatively short bursts. Baseball understood how to categorize that.

What baseball still doesn’t seem to understand is what to do with a starter who throws like a historic closer — and somehow maintains that velocity deep into games.

Before Misiorowski, every starter in the entire Statcast era had combined for just three pitches at 103+ mph.

He threw ten against New York in a single night.

And yes, the number is jaw-dropping. Of course it is. But I think focusing only on velocity actually hides the most unsettling part of all this.

The Yankees knew exactly what was coming. They still finished 2-for-22. Or more accurately: José Caballero went 2-for-2, while the rest of the lineup combined to go 0-for-18 with 11 strikeouts against Miz. Ben Rice and Aaron Judge have combined for 27 home runs this season, while the entire Milwaukee Brewers offense has only 24. So what could Rice and Judge do? Two strikeouts for Rice, fresh off the injured list. The same dose for Judge, who at least experienced the sensation of hitting a meteor when he lined a 103.6 mph fastball to right field for an out.

In his MLB debut, top prospect Spencer Jones stepped in and immediately saw 103.6 from Miz. He struck out in his first at-bat, then drew a walk. That might qualify as a successful night.

Misiorowski opened the game by throwing ten consecutive fastballs. There wasn’t much tactical mystery involved. This wasn’t an advanced tunneling exercise or a clinic in unpredictable sequencing. It was essentially a gigantic human being firing impossible fastballs over and over again while some of the best hitters on Earth looked incapable of catching up.

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That’s the strange part.

One, two, three… each new swing arrived carrying hope and then instantly dissolved. Because in theory, the fastball should be the most “hittable” pitch when hitters know it’s coming. And yet statistically, Misiorowski’s fastball is behaving almost like a devastating secondary pitch.

His swing-and-miss percentage on the fastball sits at 47.1% — the best in MLB. Pause for a second on that number because I think it deserves room to breathe. Nearly half the swings against his fastball end without contact. We are not talking about a sweeping slider disappearing off the plate. We are talking about a fastball.

And I think this is where the conversation becomes genuinely fascinating, because the history of modern pitching has largely been a search for deception.

More spin.

More sweep.

More tunneling.

More visual manipulation.

Modern pitchers are designed to make hitters overthink.

Misiorowski seems to be doing the exact opposite. He’s reducing the confrontation to something almost primitive: here comes the fastball… try to hit it.

And they can’t.

Or more precisely: they can’t do it consistently.

That distinction matters because there’s a difference between throwing hard and throwing a baseball the human brain processes too late. I think the “effective velocity” numbers help explain that. Misiorowski leads MLB with a 101.19 mph effective velocity on his fastball, and I suspect much of that comes from the combination of physical extension and visual perception.

He stands 6-foot-7. He releases the ball terrifyingly close to home plate. The hitter’s actual decision-making window gets violently compressed. Some pitchers throw 99 and look like 97. Misiorowski throws 101, and it feels as if the ball has already traveled several extra feet before it even leaves his hand.

That helps explain why swings against him look so bizarre.

Against the Yankees, several swings somehow looked both rushed and late at the same time. Four of the eight balls the Yankees put in play against Miz were hit to the opposite field. That explains everything: it’s exactly what happens when a hitter starts the swing early and still fails to catch up.

Now, all of this would already be extraordinary if it only existed in the first inning. The real problem — and yes, I think it is a problem for the rest of MLB — is that the velocity never disappears.

Normally, baseball operates under an unspoken agreement with power starters: you can throw monstrously hard early, but eventually fatigue arrives. The stuff degrades. The game enters another phase. Hitters survive the opening innings waiting for exactly that moment.

Against Misiorowski, that second phase still doesn’t seem to exist.

He was still throwing 103 mph after 70 pitches.

That completely changes offensive logic. Hitters are accustomed to managing at-bats, grinding down the starter, and eventually reaching a more vulnerable version of the same pitcher. But if the pitcher still looks like a closer in the fifth inning, then the entire model starts to break.

And this is where the historical comparisons become uncomfortable.

Hunter Greene still owns more 101+ mph pitches in the Statcast era, largely because he has thrown far more innings. But Misiorowski has already shattered the 102+ territory. He already owns 40 pitches at 102 mph or harder as a starter. Every other tracked starter combined had only reached 28 before him.

He also already has eight strikeouts on pitches of 102+ mph.

Every other MLB starter since 2008 combined has four.

And honestly, I think the most revealing detail isn’t any of those numbers.

The most revealing detail is that he still doesn’t look like a finished product.

There are innings where the command escapes him. Sequences where the delivery appears to function right on the edge of mechanical chaos. At times he looks less like a pitcher conserving energy and more like someone trying to throw every single pitch with maximum possible violence.

Normally, that would sound alarming.

With him, strangely, it feels like part of the mystery.

Because modern baseball has spent decades trying to domesticate pitching. Everything points toward efficiency, cleaner repetition, economy of movement. Misiorowski arrives as a kind of living contradiction to that entire evolution. He does not look contained. He looks like an unleashed force attempting to exist inside the organized structure of a baseball game.

And maybe that’s why he’s so fascinating to watch right now.

Not because he throws 103.

But because, for the first time in a long time, it feels possible that baseball still doesn’t have an answer prepared for something like this.

Murakami finished Friday night with a .967 OPS after hitting his 13th home run of the season in the White Sox’s 8–2 victory over the San Diego Padres, breaking the tie for the league lead he had shared with Yordan Álvarez and Aaron Judge.

How much do those 13 home runs really tell us? This is where we begin, because that number is also part of a strange but legitimate trend worth appreciating: Murakami has 13 extra-base hits. Yes—all of his extra-base hits have been home runs. No doubles. No triples. He has been a pure home run hitter.

Now, let’s dig a little deeper. When we stop and look at the heat maps, contact profiles, and pitch-type splits, the story that emerges is more uncomfortable: Murakami is not dominating every zone… he is punishing very specific mistakes that keep being repeated.

The league is not being overpowered. The league is being imprecise.

And that imprecision can be summarized in three clear sins.

1. Continuing to live in the middle of the zone with the fastball

The first sin isn’t sophisticated, but it is persistent: the insistence on attacking with fastballs in the zone, especially in the heart of the plate or slightly inside.

At first glance, a .263 average against the four-seamer might seem manageable. But that number loses meaning when placed alongside a .658 slugging percentage, an OPS north of 1.000, and a 205 wRC+. What Murakami is doing against the fastball isn’t about hitting often… it’s about doing damage every time he connects.

The heat maps explain it better than any stat line. In the middle of the zone, the ball comes off the bat with sustained violence—over 103 mph—and the results skew heavily toward extra-base hits and home runs. Murakami is crushing mistakes there, especially when pitches drift into the upper part of the zone. It’s a region of the plate where his swing finds its optimal extension and angle.

What’s truly puzzling is that nearly half of the fastballs he sees are still landing in the zone, and his in-zone swing rate sits around 78%. In other words, pitchers continue to offer exactly the kind of pitch Murakami is ready to attack from the very first move.

This is not about pitch selection. It’s about repeatedly poor location.

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2. Believing any breaking ball is an adjustment

The second sin is born from a well-intentioned but poorly executed idea. Recognizing that fastballs in the zone are dangerous, many pitchers have increased their use of breaking balls. In theory, it’s a logical adjustment. In practice, it has been inconsistent.

The slider, when properly located, does represent a partial solution. The numbers are clear: a .111 average, over a 50% strikeout rate, and a whiff rate above 25%. There’s a simple reason for that: the effective slider against Murakami is the one that threatens the zone and finishes outside it, forcing a late and uncomfortable decision.

The problem arises when that principle breaks down.

The changeup (.333 AVG, 1.145 OPS), the curveball (.333 AVG, 1.067 OPS), and especially the cutter (.500 AVG, 2.071 OPS) all show that it’s not enough to vary speed or movement. When those breaking pitches stay in the zone—and the data suggests that happens often—the effect is not to neutralize contact, but to recreate the ideal conditions for his swing, just at a lower velocity.

On the maps, those middle and lower zones light up again, regardless of pitch type.

Murakami is not being confused by variety. He is being rewarded by poor execution within that variety.

3. Misreading the lower zone as a safe haven

The third sin runs deeper because it touches a core idea in modern pitching: work down to limit damage. Against Murakami, that logic has turned into a trap.

In the lower-inside zone, his numbers are devastating: averages above .500, slugging over 1.200, and exit velocities nearing 96 mph. Far from being a control point for the pitcher, that region becomes the space where his extension mechanics express themselves most naturally.

The heat maps are particularly clear here: the lower zone, when it stays within the plate, does not reduce damage. It redistributes it into a region where Murakami can lift the ball with authority without needing to adjust his swing.

This is also reflected in contact profiles by pitch type. Fastballs with nearly 50% fly-ball rates and elevated HR/FB ratios, changeups and curveballs with disproportionate home run percentages… everything points to the same conclusion: he does not need the ball up to generate power.

The mistake, then, is not pitching low.

The mistake is pitching low without taking him out of his power axis—especially inside.

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The breakout that persists: There is no margin for error

What’s most unsettling about all of this is not that Murakami is dominating, but that the solutions are already hinted at within the same data that explains his success. We are now likely to see pitchers begin to execute better. Well-located sliders generate whiffs. Splitters, in the current sample, have not allowed damage. Elevated fastballs, when truly placed at the top of the zone, reduce contact quality.

But all of those answers come at a cost: they demand precision.

And that is the real conflict. Because pitching against Murakami is not simply about choosing the right pitch. It’s about executing it with virtually no margin for error.

As long as pitchers keep falling into these three sins—the in-zone fastball, the poorly located breaking ball, and the false security of the lower zone—the narrative will not change.

Not because Murakami is invincible.
But because, so far, the league has insisted on attacking him in the one way that can be punished.

⚾You can read the Spanish version of my SLASH LINE column on BaseballdeCuba.com by clicking on this link.👇

SLASH LINE

The Houston Astros didn’t score again for the rest of the night. Álvarez, for his part, went 3-for-3 against Bibee, adding two more singles with ease. By the time Bibee closed out the sixth inning, the rest of Houston’s lineup had gone 2-for-19. Still, Peter Lambert and three relievers held the Cleveland Guardians in check, completing a 2–0 shutout Wednesday afternoon and securing a 2–1 series win in Cleveland.

Houston had snapped an eight-game road losing streak just days earlier. Their injured list continues to grow at an alarming rate. The past two weeks have delivered more frustration than optimism. A turnaround still feels difficult without consistent pitching—but one player is shifting the equation. You know who. The No. 44 giant who’s leaving no room for comparison this early in the season: Yordan Álvarez.

At this very moment, “Air Yordan” stands as the clear-cut American League MVP frontrunner. He’s dominating virtually every key offensive category: leading the league in batting average (.347), hits (33), RBIs (26), home runs (11), on-base percentage (.466), slugging (.779), OPS (1.245), and total bases (74).

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Pitchers simply don’t want to see him step into the box.

Some seasons begin with heat. Others begin with something deeper. What Álvarez is doing in 2026—yes, in just 118 plate appearances—doesn’t feel like a streak. It feels like an adjustment. It feels like health restored.

Because the talent has always been there. A .432 ISO and a slugging percentage flirting with .800 aren’t new in essence—only in scale. The difference now lies in the silence between the thunder: Álvarez is missing less than ever. His strikeout rate has dropped to 9.3%, nearly half of what it was during his 2022 peak (18.9%). Suddenly, each plate appearance belongs entirely to him: more walks, fewer whiffs, more battles won before the pitch even crosses the plate.

It’s a subtle shift—almost invisible unless you measure the full impact. He isn’t chasing less. He hasn’t become a different hitter. But he has become a more precise version of himself: fewer rushed swings, more quality swings. Better pitch recognition. Clearer conviction about what he wants—and can—hit. The result is devastating: cleaner contact, more frequent contact, and launch angles that translate raw strength into real damage.

That’s the inflection point. For years, Álvarez lived between line drives and fly balls. Now he’s tilted the field in his favor: over 57% of his contact is in the air, the highest of his career. That’s not random—it’s intentional. He’s getting to the ball at the right angle more than half the time, a massive jump from previous seasons. When a hitter with his natural power starts lifting the ball like this—without sacrificing contact—the result isn’t just power. It’s dominance. And that’s exactly what we’re beginning to see: the long-awaited projection of a 40- or even 50-home-run season coming into focus.

What the first 26 games tell us

Let’s ground this. Through his first 26 games of 2026, Álvarez has hit 11 home runs in 118 plate appearances. That number alone demands attention. But the real story is who he’s being compared to—and how he separates himself.

Lance Berkman hit 11 home runs in his first 115 at-bats in 2002. The raw power was similar. But the differences are stark. Berkman hit .276 with a .374 OBP and a .633 slugging percentage, totaling 62 bases. Álvarez: .347 average, .466 OBP, .779 slugging, and 74 total bases. This isn’t a tie. It’s a gap.

Jeff Bagwell, in 2003, hit 10 home runs in 118 plate appearances with a .314 average and 68 total bases. Impressive—but he struck out 11 times. Álvarez, with one more homer, has also struck out exactly 11 times. That’s the unprecedented detail: as many strikeouts as home runs to start the season.

Berkman again, in 2006: 10 home runs, 118 plate appearances, .340 average, 69 total bases. But again, the cost—13 walks (fewer than Álvarez’s 19) and a .398 OBP. Álvarez is controlling the strike zone at a level few in franchise history have matched, at least over this opening stretch.

The closest mirror might be Álvarez himself. In 2019, as a rookie sensation, he hit 9 home runs in 116 plate appearances with a 1.085 OPS—but struck out 31 times. Nearly triple his current total. That version of Álvarez was unleashed power. This version is controlled force. And that’s far more dangerous.

Because those 74 total bases in 2026 don’t just surpass the 70 from 2019 Álvarez, the 69 from Berkman in 2006, or the 68 from Bagwell in 2003—they separate themselves with a level of plate control none of them combined with that kind of power in April. Bagwell walked, yes—but also struck out often. Berkman produced—but with more volatility in batting average. This Álvarez merges the best of both: Berkman’s power, Bagwell’s mature discipline, and a contact profile neither consistently reached in April.

The silent adjustment

The key lies in something not easily visible in traditional stats: Álvarez is getting to hittable pitches earlier—and better. His in-zone contact rate (94.3%) is a career best. His whiff rate has dropped to 7.1%. At the same time, his contact distribution has shifted: 57.6% fly balls, just 23.5% grounders. He’s not just putting more balls in play—he’s lifting them with authority.

A crucial detail explains it: his ideal attack angle rate has jumped above 50%. It’s an underexplored metric, but the translation is simple—more swings are finishing on the exact plane needed to do real damage. He’s not chasing more. He’s not trading power for contact. He’s creating more high-quality plate appearances.

And in today’s MLB—filled with 98–100 mph relievers, lab-designed breaking balls, and hyper-specific scouting—that carries even more weight. Dominating in 2003 is not the same as dominating in 2026. Sustaining this level of production in April today means solving more complex problems, faster.

That’s why this doesn’t feel like a streak. It feels like an unexplored version of Yordan Álvarez.

What comes next…

There’s an obvious caveat: 118 plate appearances. It’s a small sample. Projection models will pull him back toward his norm—that 165–170 wRC+ range that already places him among the best hitters in the world. But even there, the underlying data supports the surge. His xwOBA (.551) validates it. His BABIP (.297) raises the right question: how often is he simply taking the ball out of play altogether? The answer is clear—home runs. And his contact profile suggests that even with adjustments from pitchers, the impact remains absurdly high.

So the question isn’t whether he’ll regress. It’s how much of this is sustainable.

Over his next 200 plate appearances, will he maintain elite in-zone contact? Will his discipline hold as pitchers throw fewer strikes? Will that blend of elevation and authority persist?

By late May, we’ll know whether this remains a historic start—or begins to look like a redefinition of his ceiling.

The Astros have had great hitters. Bagwell set the standard—but never opened a season with 11 home runs and just 11 strikeouts. Berkman dazzled—but always carried more strikeouts than walks in his power surges. José Altuve has been the model of consistency—but far from this kind of power explosion.

None of them combined this level of power and plate control through the first 26 games of a season.

When Yordan Álvarez reaches this rhythm, he steps into another tier. It’s not just production—it’s pressure. Every at-bat, every count carries the sense that mistakes won’t be forgiven. That doesn’t always show up in the numbers. But when the numbers confirm it—as they do now—there’s not much left to interpret.

Just watch—and wonder how long it can last.

Because what we’re witnessing doesn’t feel temporary. It feels something more unsettling for opponents: the possibility that, for the first time, Yordan Álvarez isn’t just hot.

He’s performing at the level of a true MVP.

Happy Sunday.

Major League Baseball is entering that point in April where each day begins to feel like a mosaic of intersecting stories. Yesterday was one of those days.

The New York Yankees delivered their most emphatic win of the year: 13–4, four home runs, and a rampant Cody Bellinger — two homers, five RBIs — leading a lineup that, for one afternoon, stopped being inconsistent and became simply unstoppable.

Elsewhere, Corbin Carroll flipped a game with one swing: a grand slam in the eighth to seal Arizona’s win over the Blue Jays, a reminder of how quickly this sport can turn in a single at-bat.

Tarik Skubal, meanwhile, did something just as important but far quieter: he dominated. Ten strikeouts over six innings to abruptly snap the Detroit Tigers’ nine-game road losing streak. And in Colorado, the Rockies did what baseball always allows: break the script. A 4–3 win over the Dodgers in a game where even Shohei Ohtani — who extended his on-base streak to 50 consecutive games — wasn’t enough to hold the result.

There was more. The Athletics erased a 5–0 deficit to win 7–6 in extra innings on a Max Muncy sacrifice fly. Tampa Bay and Pittsburgh played a 13-inning game at PNC Park. Cedric Mullins hit a two-run homer in the Rays’ 8–7 win. Atlanta keeps finding ways to win, this time behind Chris Sale against Cristopher Sánchez. And the tight games — increasingly common in this stretch of April — continue to shape trends before we even notice.

All of that happened in a single day.

And yet, some stories don’t depend on what happens in one night, but on what repeats too often.

That’s where the New York Mets come in, losing again and continuing to spiral from one defeat into the next. They’ve now dropped 10 straight games, the franchise’s longest streak since losing 11 in a row between August 28 and September 8, 2004.

The tenth nightmare began the same way most Mets games have since April 8: with the game still within reach and the fragile — but real — sense that one swing could change everything. There was traffic on the bases, the kind of moment that forces a team to define itself.

Then came Carson Kelly.

In the bottom of the sixth, left-hander Brooks Raley threw an 87 mph cutter, middle-middle, on the first pitch. Kelly destroyed it: a three-run homer that ignited Wrigley Field.

There were no outs. And the Cubs’ blow felt less like a moment and more like a verdict.

It wasn’t just the damage on the scoreboard — it was the way the game tilted without resistance, as if the moment had chosen its protagonist… and the Mets were unprepared to respond.

That moment isn’t an anecdote. It’s a pattern.

The game reaches a breaking point… and the Mets fail to hold it.

Let’s break down the inflection points behind a collapse that feels deeper than a simple losing streak — something far more concerning, something that may be pointing toward an inevitable unraveling.

An offense last in everything… even when it shouldn’t be

The Mets have played 21 games. 141 remain. True — but shouldn’t there be flashes by now?

The acquisitions of Bo Bichette, Jorge Polanco, Marcus Semien, and Luis Robert Jr. have yet to produce the expected combined impact. Right now, the absence of Juan Soto is the echo that is felt the most.

Brett Baty drove in three runs on Opening Day against Pittsburgh — though Oneil Cruz’s defensive struggles played a role — but has just four RBIs in his next 17 games. He has walked once, struck out 21 times, and owns a .197 OBP — just .007 above his .190 batting average.

Carson Benge has one multi-hit game and is slashing .150/.239/.217 (.456 OPS) through 18 games.

Francisco Álvarez has been one of the few sparks, leading the team with four home runs — all solo shots.

Across this 10-game stretch, the Mets’ offense has been the worst in baseball:

• AVG: .203 (30th)

• SLG: .289 (30th)

• wOBA: .244 (30th)

• ISO: .086 (30th)

• BB%: 5.2% (30th)

No average. No power. No patience.

A lethal combination.

And yet, the most frustrating part? The contact quality isn’t entirely broken. Their 40.2% HardHit rate is league average. When they connect, they don’t necessarily hit poorly.

But they don’t do it often enough — or precisely enough — to cause real damage.

Just 4.6% barrels per plate appearance. A .289 slugging percentage. Six home runs in 347 plate appearances.

They hit the ball… but not with the frequency or authority required.

And when the big hits do come, they’re isolated.

The collective chaos is overwhelming — and one silent indicator captures it:

Swing & Miss%: 27.9% (5th highest in MLB during this streak)

Too many at-bats ending before the ball is even put in play.

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Soriano delivered another gem, allowing just two hits over six innings in an 8–0 win over the Padres on Friday night, snapping San Diego’s eight-game winning streak with yet another dominant performance from the Angels’ Dominican right-handed ace.

Soriano (5–0) owns a 0.28 ERA after allowing just one run across his first 32 2/3 innings this season. He leads the majors in strikeouts (39), WAR (2.1), WHIP (0.735), H/9 (3.0), and ERA+ (1570), while allowing only 11 hits. He’s also tied with Milwaukee lefty reliever Aaron Ashby for the league lead in wins with five.

Aside from occasional control issues, Soriano has overwhelmed every lineup he’s faced. Drake Baldwin’s first-inning homer for Atlanta on April 6 remains the only run he has allowed all season. And it’s worth pausing here: Soriano isn’t just dominating in April—his ability to suppress home runs goes beyond this stretch. Last year, he led the league with the lowest HR/9 rate in baseball at just 0.6.

Since 2024, here are the pitchers who have allowed the fewest home runs with at least 300 innings pitched:

David Peterson — 20 HR, 1330 BF, 309 1/3 IP
José Soriano — 21 HR, 1312 BF, 314 2/3 IP
Paul Skenes — 23 HR, 1319 BF, 338 2/3 IP
Chris Sale — 24 HR, 1301 BF, 325 1/3 IP
Cristopher Sánchez — 24 HR, 1656 BF, 406 IP

That’s elite company—and now Soriano leads that group in the early Cy Young conversation. Whatever happens next, this start has been extraordinary. He’s not just avoiding home runs; he’s improved his SO/BB ratio to 3.00, signaling a deeper transformation: more strikeouts, fewer walks. He leads the league with just 3.0 H/9 and simply doesn’t allow the one thing hitters crave: home runs.

The result? Five starts that look like the beginning of a Cy Young season.

His 17-inning scoreless streak is the second longest in baseball, and opponents are hitting .104 against him with a 0.735 WHIP—both best in the sport.

How has he done it? By doing something that sounds like a rookie mistake: throwing his best pitch less often.

Last year, Soriano threw his sinker nearly 50% of the time. He was a gravity machine. Hitters knew what was coming: 47% sinkers to lefties, 42% to righties. But now, everything has changed. He’s cut sinker usage by 20%, and suddenly he’s one of the best pitchers in baseball. Against lefties, he’s mixing in his curveball 41% of the time when ahead. Against righties, he pairs it with his splitter 37% of the time.

That shift is where this story begins. And behind his dominance lie three devastating weapons.

1. The Sinker: The Hammer He Hid to Make Deadlier

Key stat: Usage dropped from 49.1% (2025) to 31.3% (2026)—and its effectiveness skyrocketed.

Pitching has a cruel irony: your best pitch can make you predictable. And predictability in the majors is a death sentence. Last year, Soriano was an open book—sinker after sinker, with occasional curveballs and splitters. Hitters knew the ball would sink.

This year, he’s done something rare: he’s put his primary weapon in his pocket. And now, when he uses it, hitters don’t see it coming.

Opponents are hitting just .056 against it. Only two hits in 36 at-bats. No extra-base hits. Hard contact has dropped. Whiffs have nearly doubled. Ground balls remain elite—but weaker and easier to field.

Two things changed: context and angle. More four-seamers up force hitters to respect the top of the zone. And his arm slot dropped from 34–35 degrees to 24 degrees, making the sinker harder to track.

It’s no longer the main course. It’s the surprise knockout punch.

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On Friday at Wrigley Field, Shota Imanaga was doing what, for generations, meant only one thing: this is his game—let him finish it.

He was dominating without visible effort, as if every pitch already knew its outcome before leaving his hand—even though you could see he wasn’t entirely satisfied with some of his pitches, despite the fact that hitters could barely touch him. Six no-hit innings, just one walk, nine strikeouts. He retired the last 13 batters he faced in order. It wasn’t just effectiveness—it was absolute control of rhythm, of time, of expectations.

And yet, as the game moved forward, the feeling wasn’t anticipation… it was a countdown.

Not because something was going wrong, but because everything was operating within the limits that modern baseball considers acceptable. One hundred pitches in April is not a neutral number—it’s a warning. Third start of the season, cold weather in Chicago, a lineup seeing him for the third time: all the factors that used to be ignored in the name of history are now part of the decision.

When Craig Counsell walked out of the dugout, there was no surprise.

And that is the truly strange part.

For a long time, the no-hitter was an individual narrative, almost literary: a pitcher advancing inning by inning like someone walking a tightrope, each pitch loaded with accumulated tension. It wasn’t just about what was happening, but about what might happen.

Today, that story is interrupted more and more frequently—not by accident, but by a very different strategic approach across Major League organizations.

So far in 2026, we already have three cases of starters who threw at least five hitless innings and still did not return for the seventh. It’s April. The sample is small, but the pattern is not.

When you look back, the trend stops feeling anecdotal and starts to feel inevitable: these cases barely existed a decade ago, and now they recur every season with a consistency that reflects something deeper than a simple in-game decision. They reflect a philosophy.

Because the goal is no longer to complete the feat.

The goal is to get to October with healthy arms.

I took a deep dive into games similar to what Shota Imanaga did Friday in Chicago. Here are the season-by-season totals:

Number of games by a starting pitcher in the regular season with at least five innings pitched and no more than seven hitless innings allowed:

2026: 3
2025: 12
2024: 14
2023: 15
2022: 18
2021: 12
2020: 5
2019: 8
2018: 11
2017: 4
2016: 3
2015: 5
2014: 4
2013: 1
2012: 1
2011: 2
2010: 2
2008: 2
2007: 3
2006: 3
2005: 1
2004: 1
2003: 1
2002: 1
2000: 2
1998: 1
1997: 3
1996: 1
1995: 4
1994: 1
1993: 1
1991: 6
1990: 3
1988: 2
1987: 1
1986: 3
1985: 1
1984: 1
1983: 2
1982: 1
1977: 1
1976: 1
1975: 2
1974: 1
1973: 1
1972: 1
1967: 2
1966: 1
1965: 1
1964: 1
1962: 2
1959: 2
1957: 1
1956: 1
1946: 1
1944: 1
1940: 1
1924: 1
1916: 2
1915: 1
1914: 1
1913: 1
1912: 1
1910: 1
1908: 2
1907: 4
1906: 3
1905: 1
1904: 1
1903: 1

There are several points worth noting here. From 1903 to 2017, the only season with at least six such games was 1991—which already felt unusual at the time. But now consider this: with the 105 instances recorded in just the last decade (2016–2026), there are more such games than in the previous 59 years within this sample.

That’s what baseball looks like now.

I’m not saying it doesn’t make sense. It does. Teams are investing more money than ever. Contracts are larger, and the industry is in an unprecedented moment. But how much does baseball actually lose?

If we’re being honest, many of those potential no-hitters probably wouldn’t have been completed anyway.

Maybe yes, maybe no.

And that brings us back to the core issue: if pitchers continue to be pulled when they are close to a feat like this simply because of pitch count accumulation, the outcome is clear—we will see fewer no-hitters. We will enjoy fewer legendary moments on the mound. We will miss figures like Nolan Ryan, Sandy Koufax—as my uncle Guillermo used to call him—and Bob Feller even more.

I don’t know how you feel about it, but personally, I’m always left wanting more.

Back to Imanaga: we know what his split-finger can do. He doesn’t rely on velocity. His average fastball is up nearly two miles per hour (90.8 in 2025 vs. 92.2 in 2026) to start the season. Even so, the league hit just .227 against his four-seamer last year. They hit .225 against the splitter.

Where was the issue? Opponents hit a lot of home runs—24 of the 31 he allowed came off the fastball. Seven came against the splitter. When you dig deeper into his pitch mix, you find the sweeper: a .143 opponent batting average, no home runs, across 72 plate appearances.

A 34.4% whiff rate.

But the sweeper is just a devastating complement. Imanaga uses it when he needs to limit contact. That’s why, even after facing 19 batters without allowing a hit on Friday—and generating 18 swings and misses—he still didn’t seem fully satisfied.

It felt like he believed he could strike out even more hitters. He got ahead in the count against 13 of those 19 batters.

Then he left the game, and the difference was immediate.

A single by Ryan O’Hearn broke up the combined no-hitter. One swing later, the lead was gone. Bryan Reynolds launched a 30/30 home run off Caleb Thielbar to give the Pirates the decisive advantage. Six innings of absolute dominance evaporated in seconds—not because the pitcher failed, but because the plan had always been to limit his workload and protect his arm.

The dominance that shouldn’t exist

And that’s where someone like Mason Miller enters the picture—someone who seems to exist in an entirely different dimension of the same sport.

Because while modern baseball protects its starters, it has also created the perfect environment for certain relievers to become almost mythical figures. Miller isn’t just dominating—he’s redefining what dominance looks like in short bursts, in those fragments of the game where everything is decided in seconds.

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The Dodgers returned to the stag…

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Shohei Ohtani belongs to the latter.

Because if he retired today, his legacy would already defy classification: MVP awards, two-way seasons that shattered the modern mold of baseball, and a level of impact no player has replicated in ov…

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Six times, entire stadiums held their breath. Six times, the most unexpected heroes emerged from the night.

Welcome to the 2026 season, where excitement doesn’t follow a clock and extra innings are not an extension of the game, but its purest stage for magic.

And that’s without even accounting for the Astros’ eight-run rally in the bottom of the sixth, the Dodgers’ comeback sparked by Will Smith’s birthday home run, or Owen Caissie’s go-ahead single in the eighth that lifted the Marlins to a 4–3 win over the Rockies.

This has been a remarkable start to the season. From the Pacific Northwest to the banks of the Ohio, this is the story of how each ending unfolded.

New York Mets vs. Pittsburgh Pirates: Luis Robert Jr. Delivers the First Shockwave

Final: Mets 4, Pirates 2 (11 innings)

At Citi Field, the wait was worth it.

The Mets and Pirates drifted into extra innings without a run on the board. New York managed just three hits, held in check by Mitch Keller, while Pittsburgh slowly let opportunity slip away, stranding 12 runners and going 0-for-10 with runners in scoring position, including a fruitless ninth inning that seemed to foreshadow more frustration.

The breakthrough finally came in the 11th—but not in the way the home crowd had hoped at first. The Pirates scratched across a run to take a 2–1 lead, tightening the tension and shifting the weight of the moment.

Luis Robert Jr., acquired in the offseason to reshape the Mets’ lineup with power, had yet to leave his mark. He had not homered in his new uniform. He had not owned a moment.

Until now.

With runners on first and second, the situation crystallized into something larger than a single at-bat. Facing left-hander Hunter Barco, Robert Jr. got a pitch he could handle and didn’t hesitate. The swing was decisive, the contact unmistakable, and the result inevitable—a three-run home run that carried beyond the fences and detonated the stadium.

In a game where Francisco Lindor, Juan Soto, and Bo Bichette had combined to go 1-for-15, and where Jorge Polanco’s patience had only helped set the stage, it was Robert Jr. who delivered the defining moment.

His first home run as a Met could not have arrived with more force or clarity. In New York, first impressions are never neutral. This one was unforgettable.

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It was another night where baseball showed all its facets. The dominance of aces (Schlittler, Gausman, Sale, Alcántara). The magic of the young stars (McGonigle, DeLauter, Young). The hierarchy of veterans (Jansen, Trout, Judge, Stanton). The million-dollar signings who delivered in their first test (Tucker, Díaz). And the human stories that make this sport unique: a greeting to an umpire after a forgettable incident, a miscommunication that changes a game, and a pitcher inspired by an irreplaceable family loss.

Baseball is back, and I feel so happy. So I couldn’t stop writing about the new debuts and the most interesting stories at this start of the season. It was another one of those March nights that reminded us why we love this game.

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The Dodgers Prove That Money Well Spent is an Investment

In Los Angeles, the new world order was being tested for the first time. On a night that already had all the ingredients of great baseball, Los Angeles added a chapter of glory. Before their matchup against the Diamondbacks, the Dodgers received their coveted 2024 World Series championship rings. The ceremony had a special moment when Clayton Kershaw, the franchise’s eternal ace, took the mound to throw the ceremonial first pitch amid the euphoria of the fans. The Dodgers had spent like no other team in free agency, and the second night of their matchup against the Diamondbacks was the first trial by fire for their prized acquisitions.

Kyle Tucker, whose $240 million contract was still fresh in everyone’s memory, waited for his moment. Eighth inning, game tied, runners in scoring position. Everything the current two-time World Series champions needed after the home runs by Alex Freeland and Mookie Betts that had lit up the scoreboard in the bottom of the third. The left-hander didn’t flinch. A single to right field broke the tie and put the Dodgers ahead, 5-4. This was exactly what they had brought him in for: high-pressure moments, star-caliber responses.

Then came Edwin Díaz’s turn. The electrifying closer, another of the winter’s big signings, made his entrance with the notes of “Narco” thundering through the stadium. I love hearing it. The iconic music that accompanies Edwin Díaz’s entrance has always caught my attention. “Narco,” authored by Timmy Trumpet, has accompanied Edwin Díaz since he first stepped out of the bullpen. It was a real show at Dodger Stadium. I don’t know if my friend Alexis was there last night, but it must have been a memorable moment. Although the Australian DJ is the author of the original trumpet, the song was performed live by musician Tatiana Tate, kicking off the closer’s tradition in Los Angeles.

Two strikeouts later, the save was in the bag. His first two outs came on pure 97 mph fastballs. The third? A slider that froze Ketel Marte’s power. Grounder to shortstop. Routine play by Mookie Betts. Game over. Dodgers 5, Arizona 4. The high-profile acquisitions had answered the call in their first test of the season.

But the duel had chapters for everyone. Mookie Betts, the eternal face of the franchise, hit a timely home run. The bullpen didn’t allow a run in 5 ⅔ innings, striking out six. Alex Vesia hung a thrilling zero in his return to the mound, celebrating with an emotional tribute to his daughter, Sterling, who passed away last October, days before the Dodgers won the World Series. Vesia pitched a full inning, allowed one hit, and struck out one batter.

On the other side, Ketel Marte wouldn’t let the D-backs fall behind, hitting a home run of his own to keep the game alive. There was even a moment of cosmic irony: Geraldo Perdomo approached to greet the home plate umpire, Cory Blaser, before his first at-bat. The same Blaser who, less than two weeks earlier, had ended the Dominican Republic’s hopes in the World Baseball Classic with a decision that still stung in the Caribbean. Baseball, always full of these little stories that only it knows how to write.

Cam Schlittler and the Yankees Write Their Names in the History Books

The cold of San Francisco couldn’t freeze the history the Yankees were beginning to write. For the first time in the franchise’s 123-year existence, the Bronx Bombers opened the season with two consecutive shutouts. Max Fried had set the bar high with 6 ⅓ scoreless innings on Opening Day. But what came next was even more astonishing.

Cam Schlittler, the rookie from last year’s legendary Wild Card elimination game victory against the Red Sox, took the mound at Oracle Park and delivered a performance that will be etched in the organization’s annals: 5 ⅓ innings, just one hit allowed, eight strikeouts. The record books opened for him: he became the first pitcher in Yankees history to record at least eight strikeouts while allowing one hit or fewer in his first game of the season. It wasn’t just a good debut in 2026; it was a clear message about his level of refinement and the legitimate talent he possesses.

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There was a starting pitcher who struck out 11 in five innings, a rookie who matched Trevor Story with two home runs in his debut, and another who became the first pitcher in history to start three consecutive Opening Days. There was also a Cy Young winner who lasted just two outs, an eight-run comeback in a single inning not seen since 1890, and a controversial decision regarding a closed roof that changed the fate of a game. It was a day of chaos, of history, and above all, of young players who proved that the future of baseball isn’t waiting.

It’s already here.

I hope you enjoy your Opening Day guide with the most exciting moments I enjoyed and a look beyond the small sample of baseball’s first day.

Mets 11, Pirates 7

Opening Day had its most impactful moment at Citi Field, where the New York Mets dismantled the reigning Cy Young winner, Paul Skenes, in an exhibition that will be etched in the record books for all the wrong reasons for the Pirates’ ace. The anticipation revolved around the young prodigy, but Skenes lasted just two-thirds of an inning, the shortest start of his career. He fell victim to a forgettable first inning that included two errors by center fielder Oneil Cruz that, incredibly, were not scored as errors in the official book.

Even without scoring Brett Baty’s fly ball as an error, the next fly ball hit by Marcus Semien was an even more unforgivable error for Oneil Cruz. If the scoring had been different, Skenes would have allowed at least one unearned run. The scorer’s decision meant that the five runs Skenes allowed were earned, leaving him with an astronomical 67.50 ERA in his debut.

But that wasn’t the only point worth reflecting on, as it seemed like a reminder of how difficult it is for pitchers who participated in the World Baseball Classic to start the season with their arms fully in shape: Skenes, along with Logan Webb and Matthew Boyd, combined for a 16.39 ERA on Opening Day.

The new-look Mets lineup, revamped with five new faces, demonstrated patience by drawing eight walks in the first five innings. Among the new additions, Carson Benge’s debut stood out. The young prospect struck out in his first two at-bats against Skenes, but in his third at-bat, he wasn’t going to be patient. Against reliever Justin Lawrence, Benge hit a 385-foot home run at 105.3 mph on the first pitch he saw, a sweeper left over the heart of the plate.

Upon reaching first base, he jumped with both feet in a moment of pure adrenaline. Benge thus became the 14th player in history with a home run and a stolen base in his Major League debut since the modern stolen base rule was adopted in 1898, and the second in Mets history to do so, joining Lenny Dykstra in 1985. Francisco Álvarez also went deep, and Freddy Peralta earned the victory in his Mets debut. Cuban Luis Robert Jr. also excited fans at Citi Field with an afternoon where he went 2-for-4, with a 10-pitch walk against Skenes and a stellar sliding catch between center and right.

He also scored from first on Baty’s deep fly ball in the first inning. Now, forget Robert Jr.’s 38 home runs in 2023, his great season of splendor with the White Sox. If Robert Jr. can walk, improve his plate discipline, run the bases like he knows how, and play elite defense, this will be one of the best signings for the Mets this season.

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The Yankees lead 16-8 and 23-19, respectively. The regular-season history began on June 7, 2002, at Yankee Stadium II, with a 2-1 Yankees victory, Mike Mussina getting the win, Mariano Rivera the save, and the loss going to Cuba’s Liván Hernández. The Giants hadn’t won a home game against the Yankees since June 24, 2007. That means the Yankees started this season with a 6-0 streak when visiting the Giants.

So, what did we see? Well, what Giants vs. Yankees games in the Bay Area have typically looked like: the Yankees scoring at least six runs—they’ve scored 7 in five of their last six games against the Giants at Oracle Park—with starting pitchers going six or more innings and a devastating rally in the game. The Giants’ offense and defense struggling. A Yankee giant completely silenced on offense in San Francisco, and an ace mercilessly shelled.

🔥So, here you have it: baseball is back, and so is our column! I hope you enjoy it.

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San Francisco woke up Wednesday certain that Logan Webb was one of the five best pitchers in baseball. Doubts about his bullpen, the short-term irreplaceable replacements for injured players, and the excessive hopes placed on the team’s offensive expectations didn’t matter.

By nightfall, the Yankees had scored five runs off him in a single inning, and Max Fried was strolling around Oracle Park as if the bay belonged to him. That’s how baseball works: in two and a half hours, everything you thought you knew can become irrelevant.

Max Fried walked the first batter he faced in 2026. Four straight pitches out of the zone. It wasn’t the start he had envisioned for his first Opening Day as the Yankees’ ace. Forty-five minutes later, the Giants hadn’t touched second base again, and Fried was smiling in the dugout with a five-run lead. Baseball has these things: sometimes the worst beginning turns out to be the best omen.

Oracle Park has 25 years of history, and fans experienced a magical night straight out of the Barry Bonds era: 40,000 fans, kayaks in the bay, the debut of a Netflix broadcast, and in the middle of the spectacle, a New York team reminding the locals who’s in charge when baseball starts anew. The final score was 7-0. It could have been more.

Now, the Yankees have a record of 7-0 since June 24, 2007, at Oracle Park against the San Francisco Giants, who continue to search for answers. In baseball, we often call this a curse. And for the Giants, at least for one more day, the curse continues.

On one hand, we had a game decided in half an hour. The second inning was a whirlwind: five runs by the Yankees against Logan Webb, the Giants’ ace, the guy who led the National League in innings pitched and strikeouts last season. In 2025, Webb allowed five or more runs in only four of his 34 starts. He hadn’t allowed at least five runs in a start since July 10, 2024, against the Blue Jays. Last night, he did it in the second inning. Baseball is this cruel and this unpredictable, and that’s why we love it.

And, as usual, we had a Netflix broadcast that made 162 games suddenly seem like too few for the platform to learn how to do this right.

But let’s break it down.

Max Fried, the ace who needed no introduction

When Gerrit Cole injured his elbow in 2025 and missed the entire season, the Yankees did what the Yankees always do when they’re missing something: they went after the best available on the market. Max Fried arrived with a $218 million contract and the pressure of being the man in a rotation that had lost its leader.
The pressure, at least last night, he had under control like the ace he usually is.
Fried had a tough first inning. He walked Luis Arráez—who last year was the 10th batter with the fewest walks in the Major Leagues—and allowed a single up the middle to Rafael Devers, putting runners on the corners. But there, when the game could have taken a different turn, he regrouped. He struck out Willy Adames, got a grounder from Jung Hoo Lee, and shut the door.

From there on, it was his game. Or rather, he silenced the Giants’ inconsistent offense. Fried had two streaks of at least seven consecutive batters retired. He mixed his seven-pitch arsenal, relying more on his four-seam fastball, cutter, sinker, and devastating curveball. The Giants went 2-for-21. After Arráez in the first inning, no batter who started an inning reached base.

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Look, in baseball, you get used to stories. Stories are the business. The story of the prospect who arrives. The story of the veteran who clings on. The story of the team that was too young, too old, too something. But every 20 or 30 years, a game happens that isn’t a story. It’s a gift from the Baseball Gods. It’s a release. It’s an entire country finally exhaling.

This was one of those games.

Twenty years of the World Baseball Classic. Two decades of “so close,” of “next time,” of reaching the edge of the map only to find an ocean of disappointment. Twenty years of watching others celebrate on the field they considered their second home. Twenty years of waiting for baseball—that sport that runs through Venezuelan veins—to finally hug them back.

And then, in the eighth inning, when everything threatened to crumble once more, when the ghosts of Classics past began to whisper “not again,” something extraordinary happened.

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WBC: Surprise vs. Reality

WBC: A Classic of Classics

WBC: Epic Battles

WBC: One swing—a 102 mph fastball—and everything changed

WBC: The Lost Identity

WBC: Baseball Shows No Mercy

WBC: Cuba Won... Questions Remain

WBC: Cuba Found Its Moment — Now What’s Next?

WBC: There are levels to this

WBC: Broken Strategy

WBC: The Classic Madness Is About to Begin!

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But let’s start at the beginning. Because to understand the end, you have to understand the agony.

Left-hander Eduardo Rodríguez, who took the mound seeking redemption after a rough outing against the Dominican Republic, was pitching a gem. For four and a third innings, he dismantled Team USA’s Dream Team, the most feared offense on the planet, with fastballs and changeups that danced along the edge of the zone. The United States, champions in 2017, runners-up in 2023, hunting for their second WBC crown, looked trapped, with no way out. Witt Jr., Harper, Judge, Schwarber… legend after legend, silenced by a man coming off his two worst seasons in the MLB. It was a game of pressure, of pitching, the kind decided by a single mistake.

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After winning Group B with a 4-0 record, Italy continued to establish itself as the great surprise of this WBC and kept advancing by eliminating Puerto Rico in the Quarterfinals. However, their next opponent, Venezuela, would be a litmus test for the dream of reaching the WBC final. Surprise vs. reality, that’s how I envisioned the battle between Italy and Venezuela on Monday night before an incredible crowd at LoanDepot Park.

The story of the game was even more thrilling, setting the stage for an unprecedented WBC finale. I invite you to take another journey through the most electrifying moments of the night!

The Moment: “Andiamo, bambino”

The Inning: Bottom of the 2nd
The Story: Let’s start with the key point, the reason why Italy’s lineup became a headache throughout the tournament: their approach in the batter’s box. Italy never stopped attacking pitchers, and the plan kept yielding quality at-bats time and time again. After going scoreless following a double play in the first inning, they started seeing pitches and drawing walks. Keider Montero couldn’t make the adjustments and, after one out, allowed a single and walked three batters. I understand that manager Omar López placed all his trust in Montero, and it’s tough to open the bullpen as early as the second inning, but it was teetering on the brink of a major blowup.

Here’s why Venezuela was walking a tightrope in the second inning:

You can see it right there: Italy had the second-best BABIP with runners on base throughout the entire WBC. They were only surpassed by the mighty lineup of the Dominican Republic. Then, there’s another important point: the whiff percentage of Venezuela’s pitchers dropped from 32.3% to 25.2% in this WBC when they transitioned from pitching with the bases empty to pitching with runners on base.

So, the relief appearance by left-hander Ricardo Sánchez featured one of the most crucial moments of the night. There’s also Gleyber Torres’s play, managing to force the runner at second on Dante Nori’s 107.6 mph grounder. And then the eight-pitch battle where Sánchez got Sam Antonacci to ground out to first for the final out of the inning. Italy held a 2-0 lead after an inning that could have yielded much more, and that feeling lingered for the rest of the game, as they couldn’t score again.

What We Learned: Sometimes the game hangs by a thread. Sometimes you have to tear up the plan, and managers’ trust in their pitchers becomes a wild card game. Manager Omar López was clear about one thing: he wanted to trust that his starter, Keider Montero, could make the adjustments. Montero never managed to do so. And then the bullpen cleaned up the mess.

The Moment: Geno Time!

The Inning: Top of the 4th
The Story: It all started back in the top of the second inning. Eugenio Suárez stepped to the plate to begin the inning against right-hander Aaron Nola. Ten pitches later, Nola won the battle with a called strikeout. Geno watched a knuckle-curve on the inside corner pass him by. The story of curveballs and Geno is interesting. In 2025, he hit 49 home runs but went 3-for-32 (.094) against curveballs. He managed only one double for extra bases and struck out 19 times. His swing-and-miss rate was 46.3%. He posted a disappointing .204 xSLG.

Nola knew all that. The whole world knew all that. And, wow, Geno was so unlucky that the curveball is Nola’s lethal weapon. However, baseball always offers a next opportunity. Two points stood out to me from Geno’s at-bat: Nola threw eight of the 10 pitches to the outer corner.

So, it was assumed that if Geno could make any adjustment, it seemed more viable for him to try to go the opposite way. The tenth pitch of the at-bat, the knuckle-curve that Geno watched, seemed to surprise him. And I think it was about perspective. Many backdoor pitches, but then suddenly, an inside curveball. Nola played with his mind. Geno wasn’t prepared. He seemed to be battling the fact that Nola was overloading the outer corner with pitches moving away from his sweet spot. He had to wait for another opportunity.

What We Learned: Baseball is an incredible game. Look, you can go 3-for-32 against any given pitch, and then crush it, making it look far too easy. Geno did exactly that in his second matchup against Aaron Nola. Now, the question is whether Nola executed the right plan. The first pitch was a 90.7 mph sinker, almost middle-middle. Geno fouled it off. 0-1 count. What’s next? Just look at Nola’s report when he’s ahead in the count against opponents during this WBC:

Well, that report isn’t hard to decipher: Nola had 34 situations where he was ahead in the count against opponents. In 44.1% of those instances, he threw his knuckle-curve. When he started 0-1 against Geno, it was clear that was the pitch. Geno has a beautiful swing. He bats with his left leg wide open towards third base, but when he attacks the ball, he brings his leg in and squares up while loading his swing.

I loved Nola’s pitch, especially because it adhered to the margin of error in Geno’s swing. But this time, the situation ended up reflecting that unavoidable nature of probabilities in baseball called the “exception.” The man with the .094 average in 2025 against curveballs made the adjustment and crushed the pitch. The explosion was a home rocketed off the bat at 102.8 mph, traveling 386 feet at LoanDepot Park.

The Vinotinto crowd erupted. But I’ll tell you something: I don’t think we can fully measure the magnitude of that home run. The numbers didn’t matter. Neither did Geno’s breakout against the pitch that troubled him most in 2025. The point here was what it meant for Venezuela. It was like an injection of momentum, of unrestrained emotion, of inspiration. The offense didn’t break through until the seventh inning, but the game took a significant turn, at least in how we viewed the batters’ approach from that point on.

The Moment: Ángel Zerpa escapes the jam and halts Italy’s final attack

The Inning: Bottom of the 6th…

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United States vs. Dominican Republic had all of that Sunday night at LoanDepot Park: a constellation of superstars on both teams, a baseball atmosphere unmatched in the event’s history. The Dominican Republic arrived undefeated at 5-0, with an incredible 10.2 runs per game average and pitchers posting the best ERA in the entire tournament (1.98). On the other side stood the United States. One of the best American teams ever assembled in the WBC, with one remarkable distinction: perhaps the greatest concentration of young talent we’ve ever seen.

It was the world’s best right-handed pitcher, Paul Skenes, for Team USA against the most talented lineup from the rest of the world. The best of the best. In fact, if we had to point out something uncomfortable, it’s that this matchup occurred in the Semifinal round. Without question, this was an early final. And I believe it met every expectation, even though we waited all night for that massive presence of Dominican offensive power against Team USA. However, the pitchers took over the game. They made the difference from start to finish.

Luis Severino was a worthy adversary starting for the Dominican Republic. He touched 100 mph and his sweeper devoured hitters in ways we hadn’t seen in some time. Skenes was also dominant, though he could only finish two batters via strikeout. Junior Caminero crushed a solo home run in the second inning against a Skenes sweeper that hung in the upper zone. Gunnar Henderson tied the game 1-1 with a solo shot in the top of the fourth off Severino, and then the bullpen movement began. Gregory Soto relieved Severino and allowed another solo homer, this time to Roman Anthony, giving Team USA a 2-1 lead in that fourth inning.

From there onward, both bullpens took control of the game. Team USA’s defense was impeccable, effective, impressive. Bobby Witt Jr. and Brice Turang worked magic around second base. Gunnar Henderson shone playing the hot corner, and Aaron Judge turned in two spectacular plays—a throw that nailed Fernando Tatís Jr. and a diving catch that robbed Juan Soto of a hit.

Julio Rodríguez became Spiderman for a couple seconds, and then came that unexpected ending, with Mason Miller throwing fire from the mound. Let’s break down some of the moments that turned this game into an all-time gem. Let me tell it to you just as I enjoyed it, a journey through all the moments that made the clash of titans between the Dominican Republic and Team USA a true Classic of Classics.

The Moment: Junior Caminero vs. Paul Skenes

The Inning: Bottom of the 2nd
The Story: A duel of pure talent. When Caminero stepped to the plate, Skenes had dominated his first five opponents from the powerful Dominican lineup. The outs: 1st inning: Fernando Tatís Jr. (fly out), Ketel Marte (pop out), Juan Soto (ground out—great play by Brice Turang). 2nd inning: Vladimir Guerrero Jr. (ground out), Manny Machado (called strikeout). Skenes had distributed his dominance with sweeper, changeup, and a four-seam fastball that touched 99 mph. He started against Caminero with a sweeper away for ball one. Then came a 94 mph splitter inside, and Caminero fouled it off. 1-1. He went back to the splitter low, and Caminero swung and missed. 1-2.

What comes next? Yeah, well, the sweeper. It’s fair to say it was a quality pitch with one sin: it stayed high on the outside corner of the strike zone. Caminero destroyed it. His hands got out front and the swing crushed the ball for a 401-foot solo homer to left field.

Dominican Republic 1, USA 0. And the Dominican fans at LoanDepot Park could barely contain their emotion!

What We Learned: After Caminero unleashed a unique bat flip, Skenes circled behind the mound and remained calm. Caminero had won the battle, for the moment… But look, let’s return to the sequence to try and decipher a couple things. First, it’s not always that when a pitcher of this caliber gives up a home run, it’s precisely because he made a mistake. And in this case, we have to give full credit to Caminero for two reasons:

1. He doesn’t typically pull pitches in that zone successfully.

2. MLB hitters had recorded 34 swings and misses against Skenes’ pitches in the same location where Caminero hit the homer. None had connected for a home run. In fact, they were 3-for-41 with 32 strikeouts. Exit velocity? Opponents averaged just 86 mph when making contact there. Caminero hit that dinger at 105.6 mph. He did everything right.

By the way, the only hard-hit ball—with at least 100 mph exit velocity—by a batter against Skenes in that high-and-away zone had been from Julio Rodríguez.

Caminero hit just one home run in 2025 against pitches in that location, and finished with a 20% strikeout rate.

The fact that he found success there also somehow put Skenes on alert, who stopped throwing the sweeper in the upper zone. Skenes’ pitch combination is impressive, the way he attacks hitters. He starts pitching low, with splitter and sweeper, two different pitches that bring variation in spin and velocity. And then he finishes with his blazing fastball. Skenes wasn’t thinking about strikeouts. He was thinking about inducing weak contact. About making hitters overwhelmed, unable to read his sequence.

After all, he achieved a large part of the plan: 4 ⅓ innings, one sin (the sweeper Caminero destroyed), two strikeouts, and a key out against Austin Wells with the bases loaded in the bottom of the fourth. The defense did its job too. He handed the game over in the fifth, and the Dominican Republic couldn’t get the key hit.

The Moment: The explosions from Gunnar and Roman Anthony

The Inning: Top of the 4th
The Story: When the top of the fourth began, this was the scenario: Luis Severino had struck out six of his first nine outs, and had just emerged from an inning where he finished striking out Aaron Judge and Kyle Schwarber with runners on third and second. He was coming to face the lineup for the second time.

When Severino digs into that second challenge, the numbers say he tends to collapse: opponents’ OPS rises from .636 to .768. But then there’s an even more complicated trend: Gunnar Henderson would be the first batter of the fourth inning. What’s the big problem here? Well, we all know Gunnar is a great hitter, but against Severino, he’s a pitch destroyer. Gunnar entered the game hitting 7-for-9. But that’s not the worst part—it’s how Severino has left so many pitches middle-middle when trying to cross the plate against Gunnar. Look:

The heat map and that reddish effect in the center of the strike zone say it all. And look, nobody would want to pull their ace, especially when he just struck out the two main power hitters of a team like Team USA. But if you don’t manage with your heart and you analyze, then you know the Severino vs. Gunnar matchup could be a huge problem right there. The worst news for the Dominican Republic is that it was.

From the second pitch, Gunnar fell into two strikes with a couple of fouls. He attacked a sweeper inside and a cutter high in the zone. 0-2. Severino threw seven more pitches and couldn’t finish Gunnar: sweeper, cutter, sweeper, sweeper, sinker, and four-seam fastball. The ninth pitch of the at-bat was a cutter middle-middle and Gunnar Henderson demolished it for a solo home run.

Game tied. USA 1, Dominican Republic 1.

But the story didn’t end there. Two batters later, Dominican manager Albert Pujols decided to go to his bullpen. Lefty Gregory Soto was the first option. Soto’s presence had a reason: Pujols wanted the lefty-lefty matchup, as Roman Anthony was the batter due up. Sounds great. Soto allowed just a .549 OPS against left-handed hitters in 2025, much better than against righties (.801). Now, the problem here is that when he pitched with pressure and the game tied, opponents posted a staggering line of .417/.500/.472/.972.

Those results raised many doubts about Soto’s dominance, and then we confirmed some of them. He threw three straight balls to Anthony. At 3-0, he came into the zone with a 97 mph sinker middle-middle. 3-1. Then, he challenged Anthony with another middle-middle sinker at 97 mph. Foul. 3-2 count. What next? Soto insisted on the sinker. And I don’t think that was essentially the problem, but rather that he went middle-middle again. Anthony destroyed that sixth pitch of the at-bat, a 95.2 mph sinker, and hit the ball 421 feet to center field.

USA 2, Dominican Republic 1. Team USA poured out of the dugout to celebrate Anthony’s homer, as he continued demolishing pitches in this WBC. With back-to-back homers, USA had turned the score around, and this classic of classics was living up to expectations.

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