Anatomy of an At-Bat

Juan Soto is just SO good.

WASHINGTON, D.C.—When Juan Soto faced Hunter Gaddis in the 10th inning on Saturday night, I was in a magic lecture explaining a system for doing remarkable card tricks. I watched the at-bat on my MLB app—meaning I just saw the animations of each pitch. And yet, in many ways, that was the perfect way to watch Juan Soto at work.

As I did on Saturday, I’m going to post this myself and let Intrepid Editor Larry enjoy his weekend. As such, please forgive all typos, especially because I’m in a bit of a rush… the Magic Retreat starts again in 25 minutes.

Hunter Gaddis’ first pitch to Juan Soto is a slider way down and way in. It’s a ball, of course, more or less unhittable because of its placement, and yet because of its shape and deception, it’s the sort of pitch that major league baseball players often chase. The slider is Hunter Gaddis’ favorite pitch. Batters who swing at it miss it more than 30% of the time. And when they do put it in play, they usually do so harmlessly.

Juan Soto watched it go by for ball one.

He is ahead in the count.

The Yankees lead this best-of-seven series 3-1. They just need one more victory to return to the World Series for the first time in 15 years. One more win. And this game is winnable right here, right now. The score is 2-2 in the 10th inning. The Yankees have two runners on base. Juan Soto is one of the best hitters on planet Earth.

This has been a game of missed chances, by both sides. The theme was established early, when New York left the bases loaded in the first inning, and a bit later, when Cleveland left the bases loaded in the fifth. The Yankees hit into three double plays, the Guardians hit into two. Missed chances have been the theme of this series. Combined, the two teams are hitting .181 with runners in scoring position. Each team has gone to bed thinking about what might have been.

This Soto home run is actually from Game 4, but you get the point. (Nick Cammett/Getty Images)

The missed chances make a lot more sense for the Guardians. They essentially feature a lineup of Cleveland treasure José Ramírez and a bunch of guys making the league minimum. Money is not everything in baseball, not even close, and yet it matters some that the combined salary of Juan Soto, Aaron Judge and Giancarlo Stanton is more than the entire Cleveland lineup put together.

Also, the INDIVIDUAL salary of Juan Soto, Aaron Judge and Giancarlo Stanton is more than the entire Cleveland lineup put together.

This just means that pretty often, when the Guardians needed a big hit, they sent David Fry to the plate… or Brayan Rocchio… or Bo Naylor… or Lane Thomas. Sometimes guys like that come through.

Now, though, it’s the Great Juan Soto, with the game on the line, facing a relief pitcher getting paid more than $30 million less than him, and he has already worked the count in his favor, and Gaddis throws his favorite pitch again, the slider, and Soto watches it go by, this time for a strike.

What is it that makes hitting genius? What is it that makes Soto and Judge and Stanton so much more valuable? Earlier in the game, with Cleveland ahead 2-0, Stanton fell behind 0-2 by swinging at two pitches way out of the zone. The Cleveland pitcher, Tanner Bibee (who gets paid $31 million less than Giancarlo), threw three prayer pitches, way out of the zone, in the hope that Stanton might offer at one of them. He did not. With the count full, Bibee threw his slider over the heart of the plate. Stanton is not the hitter he once was. But he knows what to do with sliders over the heart of the plate. He crunched it 446 feet. The ball was clocked off the bat at 117.5 mph. The Guardians’ lead vanished faster than you can say the words, “The Guardians’ lead vanished.”

Soto does not have that kind of natural power. Few in baseball history have had Giancarlo Stanton’s natural power. Soto beats pitchers his own way, by grinding them down, by never swinging at stuff he can’t hit, by doing something that is hard to explain. Gaddis’s next pitch to Soto is a slider up in the zone. It’s a mistake pitch, but even Gaddis’ mistakes have life on them. Soto gets a good swing, but fouls it off. The count is 1-2.

Gaddis now decides to mess up Soto’s timing; he throws a changeup. Gaddis doesn’t throw his changeup all that much, but when he does throw it, he’s going for the kill. This year, batters hit just .050 against Hunter Gaddis’ changeup. And this one is thrown perfectly, down where Soto can’t hit it, and Soto is completely fooled, his rhythm utterly off. He is beaten by the pitch.

So Juan Soto just chops at the ball and fouls it off. Because he can do that.

Soto wants a fastball. Of course, he wants a fastball. Soto slugged .714 against fastballs this year. He slugged less than .400 against everything else. He wants a fastball the way your congressperson wants just one more donation, but, see, everybody in baseball knows that Soto destroys fastballs… so why would they throw him one? That’s what this whole at-bat has been about. Gaddis throws another changeup, this one way up out of the zone. It’s another mistake pitch, elevated changeups are often non-refundable, but Soto isn’t interested. He fouls it off again. The count remains 1-2.

Now what? Gaddis doesn’t want to throw another changeup like that. It’s time to go back to the slider, so Gaddis throws it, and it’s not great. It catches way too much of the plate. Soto is on it, and he takes a powerful rip, and… he fouls it back. That was too close.

And, I imagine, this is what goes through the mind of Hunter Gaddis and the Guardians’ brain trust: Soto is looking slider. He has to be looking slider. He absolutely knows that Gaddis is not going to throw a fastball, not here, not now, not in this situation, not to one of the best young fastball hitters we’ve ever seen. Soto will be looking for the slider, and he’s got the timing of that slider down, and this crazy thought emerges?

What if Gaddis throws a fastball here?

It’s not like Gaddis is a soft-tosser. He can pump up the fastball in the mid-90s! What if he throws a high fastball, out of the zone, too high for Soto to drive? That might do it! That might get him! He’ll be looking slider, and he won’t have time to catch up with the high heat! It’s so crazy it just might work!

These are the thoughts Juan Soto makes people think.

Hunter Gaddis throws a 95.2 mph fastball high and outside.

And Juan Soto, who was waiting on the fastball, who had been waiting on the fastball the whole time, goes and gets it. He knows it’s gone the instant it hits the bat. Gaddis knows it’s gone the instant it hits the bat. Every elated New York Yankees fan, desperate for their team to once again be baseball’s dominant force, knows it’s gone the instant it hits the bat. Every heartsick Cleveland fan, beaten down by a lifetime of sports grief, knows it’s gone the instant it hits the bat.

Juan Soto will be in the Hall of Fame someday. He will be there because he knows things about hitting that cannot be taught.