Guardians’ Triston McKenzie on the art of execution and moving past a costly pitch
Aug 2, 2022; Cleveland, Ohio, USA; Cleveland Guardians starting pitcher Triston McKenzie (24) delivers a pitch in the first inning against the Arizona Diamondbacks at Progressive Field. Mandatory Credit: David Richard-USA TODAY Sports
By Zack Meisel
ST. PETERSBURG, Fla. — Once Triston McKenzie’s right foot planted in the dirt, he swiveled his body to face the Green Monster and watch the baseball sail into the Boston night.
McKenzie knew immediately — before the fans who rushed to pounce on the souvenir from their left-field perch, before those operating the cameras in Fenway Park could pinpoint the ball along its orbit, before the hitter hacked at his misplaced slider. McKenzie bent his knees as if he were about to pray to the baseball gods for a do-over.
Xander Bogaerts erased Cleveland’s 1-0 lead with one swift swing at an 0-2 offering from a guy who had allowed a grand total of one run in 32 innings in July prior to that point (July 28).
And here we are, nitpicking about the one mistake McKenzie made all month. OK, that’s not the aim here; McKenzie’s reaction demonstrated he knew Bogaerts had launched a game-altering home run.
But when, exactly, did McKenzie know that particular pitch went awry? And how does a pitcher quickly regroup after such a dramatic moment?
We went straight to the source the following day for some insight into a pitcher’s thought process.
First, here’s the sequence of the at-bat.
Pitch 1: 92.5 mph fastball down the middle, which Bogaerts fouled off.
Pitch 2: 85.3 mph slider up and in, which induced an ugly half-swing-and-a-miss.
Pitch 3: 85.6 mph slider down the middle, which resulted in the home run.
Did you know the second you released the ball, or the second he made contact? You had an instant reaction.
Out of the hand, I know that’s a bad pitch. It’s not where I wanted it. I gave up the hit to (Alex) Verdugo, the first one, which was a well-placed heater. I threw it and it got hit and I was like, “Ah, OK.” But the second hit to Verdugo, the line drive up the middle, out of my hand, as soon as I got to here (near his release point), I was like, ‘That’s not outside.’ And as soon as I got here, I’m able to watch — I see the ball cross the plate, so I’m able to judge where it’s at and I know that it’s just not my spot. The one to Xander, immediately out of my hand, I’m like, “That’s a bad pitch.” When he hit it, I’m like, immediately, “Bad pitch,” and then it’s like, “Ah, he probably got just enough of that.”
And then you can go back and see it on video to confirm your suspicions and identify why you didn’t execute it the way you wanted?
Mhm. You’ll see me, after pitches or if I give up a hit, I’ll walk around the mound and go, “Mmmm” (a frustrated sigh) and I’ll do stuff like that and it’s more just like, “Ehhh, it was up but it should have been a little bit more up” or “Ehhh, that’s middle. That can’t be middle.” You’ll see me say stuff like that.
How do you regroup and flush that? You’re throwing another pitch 30 seconds later.
That’s baseball. I have to throw another pitch regardless. I think it’s more along the lines of, for me, if I’m able to understand what I did and recognize it immediately or be able to pick up on it, I’m able to accept the information and be like, “We’ll move on, we’ll make these pitches,” but be like, “All right, I made a mistake here. What did I do here? Let’s continue and keep going.” But when I go back and look in the dugout and I grab the iPad, I know that this is going to be the first pitch I look at.
Triston McKenzie reacts after a deep flyout at Fenway Park. (David Butler II / USA Today)
Where did you want that pitch to Bogaerts?
Four inches (away), not in his barrel. (Laughs)
I think one of my strengths when I’m pitching is my self-awareness, especially being able to understand where I made mistakes, but not letting that necessarily affect me. With baseball, when you start to let stuff compound is when stuff starts to get out of place. Early on, especially 2020 and the beginning of last year, it wasn’t necessarily that I couldn’t do it. It was more just that I was in the big leagues and I was putting unnecessary pressure on myself and I was physically compounding stuff instead of just taking the information for what it was and letting it go, because it’s baseball. I was like, “I have to make this perfect pitch” and then I wouldn’t make a perfect pitch and be like, “Well now it’s 1-0, so now I have to hit my spot.” And then I’d get to 2-0 and it’s like, “Well, it’s 2-0, he’s sitting dead-red heater. I have to make a perfect pitch or it has to be just on the edge.” And I’d fall behind, and that’s where I’d get into that (trouble).
The psychology behind it all is fascinating.
If I had to go back (to the Boston game), I don’t think I’d change — eh, I’d probably change the pitch call because my slider didn’t necessarily feel all that good. But I don’t think it was a bad pitch. I think it was more just that it wasn’t executed. I think if that pitch was 3 inches away, he may still put the same swing on it, but he may not catch it on the barrel and hit a fly ball to center field or he may hook it to (left fielder Steven) Kwan.
We don’t see the pitches that might not be executed perfectly that the batter doesn’t capitalize on.
You only see results. That’s baseball. At the end of the day, you can look at the box score and be like, “Oh, he pitched like trash! He gave up four (runs).” But if you watched the game, it’s a little different.
