The World Series is set, the Arizona Diamondbacks from the National League, the Texas Rangers from the American League, two teams that both lost over 100 games just two years ago, two teams that needed to win Game Seven of the League Championship Series on the road, and two teams that did it without asking a lot from their starting pitchers.
Really, it’s not just those two teams. All teams are doing it. Starting pitchers getting taken out of games early, or planned bullpen games, continue to be a storyline of the postseason.
It’s such a story that even Diamondbacks manager Torey Luvollo has told the TBS broadcasters that he actually hates making so many pitching changes each game, hopes they are between innings, and has asked himself, “are we ruining baseball?”
The contrast between how the Diamondbacks recorded 27 outs in 2001, the last time they were in the World Series, and how they are getting 27 outs in this postseason, is drastic.
In 2001: future Hall of Famer Randy Johnson, would-be Hall of Famer if he wasn’t trying to win political culture wars Curt Schilling, and too often forgotten Miguel Batista started 14 of the D’backs 17 playoff games. They combined for 111.1 of the 154 innings or 72 percent.
In 2023: the trio of Zac Gallen, Merrill Kelly and Brandon Pfaadt have started 11 of the 12 D’backs playoff games so far. They’ve combined for 57 of the 106 innings, or 54 percent. The other “starter” was reliever Joe Maniply who pitched one inning of a designed bullpen game.
This will not be another story of an old man yelling to the clouds that analytics are ruining baseball. Nor will it be a story defending analytics. It’s more a reflection.
When did playoff bullpen management change?
I believe it started Oct. 16, 2003 -- the night Boston Red Sox manager Grady Little kept Pedro Martinez in the game too long.
It was Game Seven of the 2003 ALCS at Yankee Stadium. That was the final year in a seven-year stretch where Martinez was the best pitcher in baseball: three Cy Young awards, two runner-ups, and a third-place finish in 2003. Martinez was still only 31 years old, the ace of aces.
The Red Sox led 4-0 after four innings, and 5-2 entering the bottom of the eighth inning. Grady sent Pedro back out to the mound because he was Pedro freakin’ Martinez and because the Red Sox “closer by committee” to start that season imploded, a midseason trade for Byung-Hyun Kim was helpful, but roles were murky in the postseason, performance were shaky, and because that’s what you did back then.
The fateful eighth inning: Nick Johnson popped out. Derek Jeter doubled (partly because right fielder Trot Nixon mis-read it). Grady stuck with Pedro. Bernie Williams singled home Jeter.
Grady came out to the mound. Not to take out Pedro, but ask if he was alright. Grady stuck with Pedro longer.
“A proud man, a proud baseball player, a proud pitcher, never really wants to give up his sword,” Martínez said years later. “I was a wounded warrior, but I wanted to continue to fight.”
Hideki Matsui doubled home Williams to make it 5-4. Grady still stuck with Pedro longer. Jorge Posada singled softly – on a jam shot -- to tie the game.
Grady finally pulled Pedro, after 123 pitches. The game remained tied until the 10th, when Aaron Boone homered off Tim Wakefield to end the game and series.
Eleven days later, the Red Sox parted ways with Grady Little. The team tried to claim it was about Little’s insistence on a new long-term contract. But everyone knew the truth. It was because Grady stuck with Pedro too long. Red Sox team president Larry Lucchino said the following to reporters:
“This ownership group prefers an increased reliance on thorough and more comprehensive analysis and preparation so that the manager’s decisions are more synchronous with our player-acquisition and development decisions. We seek one unified organizational philosophy.”
That’s a lot of word soup. Let me translate: Red Sox management wants a manager who will do what we tell him to do.
In the aftermath, when Little was getting roasted by the press, I remember thinking, “Grady got fired because he kept the best pitcher in baseball in the game, instead of using Alan Embree? Really?”
Nothing against Embree. Nice guy. Covered him when he played for the Giants. Enjoyed a lengthy career. Put himself in this conversation with his performance. I know Pedro was on fumes. I’d have left him in the game and been fired too.
In the 20 years since, the overwhelming majority of new managers hired know it’s their job to execute the vision of the front office. The Red Sox may not have started it, but it’s the most high profile. Come the postseason, it’s asking less and less from your starting pitchers, and using a parade of relief pitchers to get 27 ours.
A few other factors sped up the process. In the mid-2010s, the Dodgers heavily leaned on ace Clayton Kershaw to pitch deep into playoff games because they didn’t have middle relievers they could trust. Too often, Kershaw gave up the leads in the seventh inning, each blown lead a crushing blow to the Dodgers, tarnishing the astounding legacy of Kershaw, and causing teams to totally rethink how they use their pitching staffs in the postseason.
We’ve heard TBS analysts Ron Darling and Jeff Francouer mention this frequently all month: you used to look for a reason to keep your starting pitcher in the game; now you look for a reason to remove him and get to the bullpen.
A few exceptions exist. It wasn’t that long ago, in 2019, when the Washington Nationals rode Max Scherzer and Stephen Strasburg to a World Series title.
Strasburg was sensational. He pitched in six playoff games, the National won all six, he got the win five times, his ERA was 1.98, and his K/BB ratio was 47/4 over 36.1 innings. Strasburg was the Most Valuable Player of the 2019 World Series and was rewarded with a 7-year, $245 million contract.
In the four years since, he’s pitched eight times covering 31.1 innings. Strasburg may or may not be retired due to injuries.
To be clear, Strasburg’s injury is not why Brandon Pfaadt was taken out of Game Seven last night after four innings of two-run ball. Pfaadt is an untested rookie. The D’backs were confident in the quantity and quality of their bullpen. It worked.
It didn’t work for the Rays in 2020, perhaps the peak of early hook controversy. The Rays removed their ace, Blake Snell, with one out in the sixth inning. Snell had allowed one run, two hits, no walks, struck out nine, and had thrown just 73 pitches. Cameras caught Snell mouthing “what are we doing?” as he was removed. The Rays bullpen blew the lead, in that inning, and the Dodgers clinched the World Series that night.
It did work for the Atlanta Braves in 2021. But then again, because both teams do it so frequently, a combination of strategy and necessity, it’s difficult to pinpoint when it truly works and doesn’t work. Somebody has to win and somebody has to lose. I do know this: bullpens are better than ever. Teams keep more pitchers available than ever, and those arms are dynamic.
The baseball regular season is often described as a marathon, so let’s stick with that analogy when analyzing the philosophy. Who wins a race: the best marathoner in the world going all 26.2 miles alone, or a group of 26 elite middle-distance runners going one mile each? That’s my rationale mind.
The old man in me is nostalgic for the epic Game Seven between John Smoltz and Jack Morris in 1991. Two guys, mano y mano, like prized fighters, going the distance. Here’s the entire game on YouTube if you want to re-live it. Or the reflections of both if you only have 12 minutes.
Sports change. Pitching changes. This is modern baseball. I suspect we’ll occasionally have starting pitchers who dominate a postseason, like Scherzer and Strasburg in 2019, like Madison Bumgarner in 2014, like Johnson and Schilling in 2001, like Orel Hershiser in 1988.
Kershaw (lost many leads) and Strasburg (hurt pitching so many innings) will be the cautionary tales though, looming in the back of minds. Much as a manager might want to trust his gut, and leave his starting pitcher in the game longer, these are group decisions — and his job security is based on following the group.
Just ask Grady Little.
It's crazy how analytics have changed the game. And I think has changed how we interpret the game we watch. The data says do this. So managers do it. Because it's a good excuse if it doesn't work. Little went with gut and it cost him his job. Blame the numbers. The problem is we like it when we can name a scapegoat. It's more fun. I know. i'm a horrible person. But as a fan, I remember our players' foibles more than an analytical error.