The unsinkable Mariners

Jorge Polanco

Jorge Polanco shooting the game and ALDS-winning base hit for the Mariners in the bottom of the fifteenth . . .

“Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans,” sang John Lennon on the last album he released in his lifetime. Instead of singing it in the middle of a sweet lullaby he wrote for his then five-year-old son, the former Beatle could have been singing about baseball.

He could have been singing, too, about such contests as the just-concluded American League division series between the Tigers and the Mariners. The one that came to a fifth game that came down to a fifteenth inning and, possibly, both teams wondering just whom was going to commit a fatal flub, flop, or faux pas, Phillies-like or otherwise.

“It felt the whole game,” said Tigers shortstop Javier Baez post-mortem, “like whoever made a mistake was going to lose.”

Well, nobody in either Tiger or Mariner uniforms made any truly grave mistakes Friday night. The Mariners punched their ticket to the American League Championship Series the old-fashioned way, a hair-raiser of a ball game they finished when Jorge Polanco slashed a single with two out and the bases loaded in the bottom of the fifteenth.

Until that half-inning, the Tigers and the Mariners threw everything at each other except the proverbial kitchen sink. The sink showed up in the bottom of the fifteenth. When Tommy Kahnle relieved a gutsy Jack Flaherty for the Tigers, and J.P. Crawford opened the proceedings with a base hit, the third Mariners leadoff runner in four innings.

But Kahnle followed that by plunking Randy Arozarena on the first pitch, before Cal Raleigh lined out but left Arozarena safe at second thanks to Tigers center fielder Parker Meadows’s errant throw. Then the Tigers ordered Julio Rodriguez walked on the house. In situations leaving first base open with a season on the line, it was the smart move after dodging a Raleigh artillery shell.

Now came Polanco. He and Kahnle fought to a full count with no place to put him. Then Kahnle threw a fastball Polanco shot on a line through the right side and into right field, Crawford racing home and jumping onto the plate and into the arms of teammates who might have been forgiven if they’d just been wondering how much longer this epic could play.

“The back half of that game is like a game in itself,” said Tigers manager A.J. Hinch post-mortem. “We dodged a few bullets, and so did they . . . I didn’t want it to end, certainly,  the way that it did, but I wanted to just keep giving ourselves a puncher’s chance, and they outlasted us.”

Until the bottom of the fifteenth, it was fair to say the Tigers and the Mariners outlasted each other.

From the brilliance of starting pitchers Tarik Skubal and George Kirby to the magnificence of both bullpens plus a pair of starting pitchers pressed into all-hands-on-deck relief service, this game made you wonder whether anyone from the big bats to the supporting cast really knew how to hit anymore.

Skubal in particular pitched like the Cy Young Award winner he seems destined to become this year. He surrendered one run but set a new postseason record with seven straight strikeouts, then set another one with thirteen total strikeouts in a postseason elimination game. He pitched six virtuoso innings and left with his tank below empty.

How could he have known at that moment that things would end up with him making grand, Hall of Famer-like showings in his two ALDS starts but his team ending up on the losing side?

Kirby was almost as brilliant as Skubal. In fact, the only run charged against him scored when he’d left the game in the bottom of the sixth, after surrendering Baez’s leadoff double. Gabe Speier took over and Tigers right fielder Kerry Carpenter hit a 1-0 service into the right center field seats.

That gave the Tigers a 2-1 lead lasting long enough for the Mariners in the bottom of the seventh to tie it up with a little shuck-and-shuffling on the part of skipper Dan Wilson.

He sent Dominic Canzone to pinch hit for Mitch Garver, whose second-inning sacrifice fly opened the scoring in the first place. Hinch promptly brought Tyler Holton in to relieve Skubal’s relief Kyle Finnegan. Wilson countered by sending Leo Rivas up to pinch hit for Canzone.

In the first postseason plate appearance of his major league career, measuring Holton for the cutters and changeups he was most likely to throw, Rivas took a strike, then lined a changeup for a base hit to left to send Polanco home with the tying run.

From that point forward, the bullpens, with or without starters pressed into emergency all-hands-on-deck duty, were brilliant, even when they were slithering, sneaking, or bludgeoning their ways out of jams you could charge were some of their own making.

“It was like (we) got them on the ropes, and then they wiggle out of it. They got us on the ropes, and we wiggle out of it,” said Finnegan postgame. “It was an absolute roller-coaster of a game. That’s the beauty of this sport.”

“A heartbreaker of a finish,” said Tigers first baseman Spencer Torkelson, who’d gone hitless in six Game Five plate appearances, “but an unbelievable baseball game to be part of.”

“My experience feels like the ground was shaking every inning,” said Rivas. He wasn’t exactly wrong. Especially over the extra innings, when it seemed nobody in T-Mobile Park dared to sit back down.

“We knew this was not going to be a football score, that it was going to be a tight pitchers’ duel,” said Mariners president of baseball ops Jerry Dipoto, himself a former major league pitcher, “and our general take was: keep it close until Skubal’s out of there and we’ve got a chance to win this game.”

Even if it took nine innings from Skubal’s exit to do it. But once Speier yielded to Matt Brash, what came out of the Mariners’ bullpen—including and especially starters who hadn’t relieved in either eons or since early minor league days, whichever came first—was magnificent.

Brash himself got six outs for the first time since 2003. Andrés Muñoz, the Mariners’ usual designated closer, walked a pair but escaped and then pitched a spotless ninth. Logan Gilbert, a starter, pitched a pair of scoreless innings. Eduard Bazardo landed eight outs, something he’d never done in his career until Friday night. Luis Castillo, who hadn’t relieved in almost a decade, got rid of all four batters he faced.

The problem was the group of people rooting and cheering even louder than the ballpark crowd: the Blue Jays. Broadcast announcers noted it until even they got sick of saying it, but as the extra innings accumulated the Blue Jays had to have been roaring with delight knowing that, whichever team would meet them in the ALCS, that team’s pitching might be depleted temporarily.

That’s not what you want to throw at the Blue Jays and their own howitzer offense in their own playpen to open. The ALCS may come down to first and second game survival for the Mariners before they can bring the set back to T-Mobile Park. But when they do, the Mariners have at least one comfort upon which to lean: the Blue Jays were a game below .500 on the road while playing .667 ball at Rogers Centre.

And both teams want to end pennant droughts expeditiously as possible.

The Blue Jays haven’t hit the World Series since they won their second of two straight in 1993. The Mariners haven’t hit the World Series at all in their 48 years of existence. The last time they showed up in an ALCS, they’d won 116 games on the regular season, had the 2001 Rookie of the Year in future Hall of Famer Ichiro Suzuki, another Hall of Famer in Edgar Martinez, and lost to the Yankees.

The Tigers haven’t reached a World Series since 2006 or won one since 1984. They wouldn’t mind ending a drought, either. But on a night when Carpenter went four-for-five while the rest of the Tigers managed only four hits, Carpenter becoming the first since Babe Ruth to reach base five times and homer in a winner-take-all postseason game probably made Tiger fans wish they could have run nine of him to the plate Friday night.

It’s hard to think, “What a year,” when thinking of the Tigers. Sure, they’re talented, likeable, and their own kind of resilient. But these are the same Tigers who became this year’s first to win thirty, then forty, then fifty, then sixty games . . . before the worst September win percentage of any postseason baseball team ever. They played September as if on crutches.

The Mariners won their division handily enough, playing September with controlled fury and rolling their best month’s record of the season, 17-8/.680, while earning a round-one bye in the postseason. They proved unbreakable when the Tigers took them to the bitter end Friday night.

And the game proved unbreakable without Manfred Man, the free cookie on second base to begin each half inning. Manfred Man’s extinction should not be restricted to the postseason alone. No mistake.

Self-awareness as a vice

George Kirby

George Kirby, a second-year pitcher who inadvertently proved a little self-knowledge might be a dangerous thing—for his image, not for his particular line of work.

Maybe the only thing that brings Joe and Jane Fan to a boil faster than a baseball player speaking honestly about an injury is a pitcher who admits he didn’t do well with being kept in a game past his sell-by date for the day. George Kirby, second-year Mariners pitcher, may be learning the hard way.

After surrendering back-to-back first-inning runs to the Rays Friday, Kirby pitched five more spotless innings. In the bottom of the seventh, he threw one pitch for an unassisted ground out to first base, a second pitch Jose Siri drilled for a double, then three pitches to René Pinto. The third was lined down the left field line and into the seats to tie the game at four.

Mariners manager Scott Servais lifted Kirby for Isaiah Campbell. Campbell walked Yandy Díaz, induced Brandon Lowe to force Díaz at second base, but then fed Harold Ramirez a pitch meaty enough to feed the left field seats. An eight-inning leadoff bomb off another Mariners reliever secured the 7-4 Rays win.

But Kirby faced the media postgame and admitted he wasn’t exactly thrilled about pitching the seventh, which he entered having thrown 93 pitches or so already. “I didn’t think I really could go any more,” the boyish-looking righthander said. “But it is what it is.”

Come Saturday, Kirby apparently couldn’t wait to walk that back, the faster the better: “Skip’s always got to pry that ball out of my hands. Just super uncharacteristic of me as a player and who I am out on that mound. I love competing. Like I said, I just screwed up.”

The social media jerk brigades turned out in force with the customary charges of gutless, backbone-challenged, you name it. So did a few former players, for that matter. There seemed little room for charity, little thought that Kirby might have spoken Friday out of frustration over surrendering a game-tying bomb, and even less thought that Kirby might actually have a little self-awareness going for him.

Kirby had already faced Pinto twice earlier in the game when they met in the bottom of the seventh. Pinto flied out in the second and lined out in the fifth. Including the close of business Friday, all batters facing Kirby for the third time around, lifetime thus far, have a meaty enough .814 OPS against him, including what are now twelve home runs in 46 such games in which they got that third chance.

The first time through a lineup, Kirby’s batters have a .684 OPS against him, but the second time through they have a .602. Their batting average against him drops from .265  the first time to .221 the second. The third time they see him? They’re two points below .300.

This is also a pitcher who kept the Astros in check in Game Three of last year’s division series. You might remember that game: the eighteen-inning marathon in which neither side could even sneak a run home, with Kirby starting for the Mariners and going seven shutout innings, scattering six hits. With Jeremy Peña hitting Mariners reliever Penn Murfee’s full-count meatball over the left center field fence for the game’s only run and the eventual world champion Astros’s trip to the American League Championship Series.

Kirby also made his first All-Star team this season, and if he didn’t quite pitch like one during his fourth-inning appearance (a leadoff double, a one-out RBI single), you could attribute that to All-Star inexperience. On this season whole, including Friday night, Kirby leads the entire Show with a 9.44 strikeout-to-walk ratio and an 0.9 walks-per-nine rate, not to mention having a very respectable 3.31 fielding-independent pitching rate that suggests his 3.48 ERA means a little hard luck pitching in the bargain.

He pitched 131 major league innings last year and, after Friday, has pitched 165.2 innings this year. The most innings he’d pitched in the minors in any full season was 111.1 in 2019.

Backpedaling his Friday comments may indicate that someone told Kirby it wasn’t such a great look to admit his true sell-by date for the game expired after six innings. The jerk brigades were only too happy to pile that message on, including dredging up the usual outliers who could and did go long and (figuratively, most of the time) threaten murder and mayhem if their managers even thought about lifting them early.

Allow me to reference a decade that ended with the average innings pitched per start being 6.4. Care to guess? The 2010s? The Aughts? The 1990s? Strike three. The decade I referenced was the 1950s. Now would you care to stop saying they were all “tougher” in the allegedly Good Old Days—the days when baseball people thought injuries were half in a player’s head if not signs of quitting?

(Further ancient history: Paul Richards, once thought a genius when it came to pitching, also thought once that the way to fix injuries—especially among his once-vaunted and unconscionably overworked “Baby Birds” Orioles kids of the late 1950s/early 1960s—was to send them for . . . tonsillectomies. True story.)

Hell if you do, hell if you don’t. But I’m not going to be one of the ones telling Kirby he should have kept his big mouth shut Friday. A little more self-awareness such as his might actually mean longer and less physically-stressing careers for a lot of young pitchers. Not to mention better chances of postseason success, considering the Mariners lead the American League’s wild card chase.

How often have pitchers who’ve insisted on “gutting it out” despite fatigue or sensing their best stuff’s expired end up murdered on the mound and thus hurting their team as a reward for their “guts?” How often have fans, hanging the no-guts/no-backbone tags on pitchers who don’t “gut it out” past their game’s sell-by date, turned around and hung the no-brains/no-sense tags on managers who left their pitchers in one inning too many?

Ponder that foolishness before you join the fools who think Kirby needs a spine transplant.

The valiant but vanquished Mariners

Jeremy Peña

The Mariners fought the Astros off long and luminously in their ALDS Game Three, but Astros rookie Jeremy Peña brought the fight near to the end with his eighteen-inning, scoreless tie-breaking bomb that proved the end of the Mariners’ season.

Maybe nobody really expected the Mariners to get to their first postseason since the wake of the 9/11 atrocities in the first place. Maybe nobody really expected them to stay there when they up and bumped the Blue Jays to one side in a wild card series.

But they did.

Maybe nobody expected them to survive against the American League West ogres from Houston. Even if they made a reasonable enough-all-things-considered 7-12 showing against them on the regular season. Even if they’d beaten the Astros two out of three in two first-half sets.

They didn’t.

But a three-game sweep out of their division series still stings, no matter how valiant the Mariners effort was. Even if the series was as close as a closed clothespin, the Mariners compelling the Astros to win the first two games by comeback.

Mariners fans and just about everyone else couldn’t possibly have been surprised that Yordan Alvarez was the bombardier who flattened the Mariners in Games One and Two, first with that jolting three-run homer to turn a 7-5 lead into an 8-7 Game One win in the bottom of the ninth, then with a just-as-jolting two-run homer in the Game Two bottom of the sixth.

But going long distance two games’ worth in Game Three to see it end via Astro rookie Jeremy Peña’s leadoff bomb off Penn Murfee, after Luis (Rock-a-Bye) Garcia held them at bay over four relief innings with only one measurable threat against him, had to sting soul deep.

After a marathon exhibition of run prevention—the 42 combined strikeouts (20 by Astro batters, 22 by Mariners batters) set a postseason record; the Astros going 11-for-63 and the Mariners going 7-for-60 all night, it couldn’t feel otherwise.

“It’s kind of what we’re accustomed to, playing those tight games and finding a way,” said Mariners manager Scott Servais postgame Saturday night. “I mean, that is a big league game, with the pitching and defense that was fired out there. We just weren’t able to put anything together.”

“This at-bat,” Pena said, after his homer broke the foot-thick ice at last, “was not going to be possible if our pitching staff didn’t keep us in the ballgame. They dominated all game. Their pitching staff dominated all game.”

Sometimes you had to think what was wrong with these Astros—if they were going to prevail anyway against the Seattle upstarts, how the hell could they not have just done it in the regulation nine? Didn’t they want to avoid wheeling Justin Verlander to the mound in a Game Four if they could help it?

Now, of course, Verlander and Framber Valdez can have a little extra rest/rejuvenate time before opening the Astros’ unprecedented-in-the-divisional-play-era sixth consecutive American League Championship Series. They won’t know their opponent until things are settled between the Guardians and the Yankees in New York Monday night.

But how could these Astros, whose stocks in trade include becoming the biggest pains in the ass in the AL West with runners in scoring position, do worse with RISP (0-for-11) than the Mariners (0-for-8) did all night long?

How could Kyle Tucker and Jose Altuve hitting back-to-back one-out singles and pulling off a double-steal in the top of the second end with Mariners starting pitcher George Kirby striking Chas McCormick out to strand them?

How could Kirby plunk two Astros in the top of the third—Alvarez leading off, Trey Mancini to set up ducks on the pond—and escape with his life after McCormick’s deep fly to center was run down and hauled down by Julio Rodríguez?

How could the Astros plant first and second on Kirby with one out in the top of the seventh—and strand them by way of Christian Vazquez flying out to center and Altuve striking out?

How did Mariners reliever (and erstwhile Rays bullpen bull) Diego Castillo slither out of second and third and one out in the top of the ninth by striking Vazquez and Altuve out back-to-back swinging?

How did six Mariners out of the bullpen keep the Astros hitless from the tenth through the fifteenth, with their only baserunner of the span coming when Paul Sewald plunked McCormick to open the the top of the twelfth?

And how did Murfee save Matthew Boyd’s bones midway through the top of the sixteenth, after Boyd surrendered a base hit (Alex Bregman) and a walk (Kyle Tucker) following a leadoff fly out? Murfee got Yuli Gurriel to line out to fairly deep right center and Aledmys Diaz to pop out beyond first base in foul ground.

The longer this one went, the more improbably it continued to look. And not one muscle in T-Mobile Park dared obey any Mariner fans’ thoughts of making for the exits.

The Mariners proved just as good at leaving runners for dead as the Astros until the eighteenth. They stranded Cal Raleigh on third in the second, Ty France on first in the third, J.P. Crawford on first in the fifth, Rodríguez on second (a two-out double) in the eighth, Eugenio Suarez (leadoff single) and Mitch Haniger (one-out plunk) in the ninth, France (two-out walk, then stealing second) on second in the thirteenth, Haniger on first in the fourteenth, and Carlos Santana (two-out single; to second on a wild pitch) on second in the seventeenth.

This game threatened to end as a classic case of long-term, non-constructive abandonment against both side. (For the first time in his major league life Altuve took an 0-for-8 collar, big enough to fit Secretariat.) It only began with Astros starter Lance McCullers, Jr. pitching two-hit, six-inning shutout ball, and Mariners rook Kirby plus his defense keeping the Astros at bay for seven innings despite six hits and five walks.

Raleigh, the Mariners catcher, played all eighteen innings with a thumb fracture and a torn ligament or two that he’s dealth with for over a month. Some call it toughness. Others might call it foolishness.

He had a Clete Boyer kind of regular season at the plate: 27 home runs (leading all Show catchers) plus 20 doubles but a .284 on-base percentage. He clinched the Mariners’ postseason trip in the first place with a game-winning home run; he scored what proved the game-winning run that pushed the Blue Jays out of the postseason.

The league-average Mariners backstop who handled his pitchers well enough to help them deliver a collective 3.30 ERA on the season struck out three times in six plate appearances Saturday night, batted only once with a man in scoring position, in the bottom of the ninth, and hit into a force out.

At last Raleigh will be able to visit a hand specialist and get that paw repaired. Who knows what further damage catching two games’ worth without a break might have done? The spirit may be willing but more often than not all or part of the body can be defiant. Which reminds me that Rodríguez’s late-season back injury needs to be pondered more thoroughly, too—did he feel lingering after-effects the rest of the way?

But Peña turned on Murfee’s full-count fastball almost down the central pipe and sent it over the left center field fence and turned all eyes upon him. Peña, the rookie who slotted in at shortstop for the departed Carlos Correa. And, earned no less than his manager Dusty Baker’s lasting respect.

“You could tell by his brightness in his eyes and his alertness on the field,” Baker said postgame, “that he wasn’t scared and he wasn’t fazed by this. Boy, he’s been a godsend to us, especially since we lost Carlos, because this could have been a disastrous situation had he not performed the way he has.”

It proved a disastrous situation for the Mariners in the end. They’re likely to remain competitive with a few patches to sew and gaps to fill during their off-season. But nobody can accuse them of going down without one of the grandest and longest fights in postseason history, either. Be proud, Seattle. There was honour to spare in this defeat.