Home teams don’t win enough in extra innings. It’s one of the most persistent mysteries of the last five years of baseball. Before the 2020 season, MLB changed the extra innings rules to start each half of each extra frame with a runner on second base. (This only occurs during the regular season, which means the 18-inning ALDS tilt between the Mariners and the Astros in the picture above didn’t actually feature zombie runners, but the shot was too good to pass up.) They did so to lessen the wear and tear on pitchers, and keep games to a manageable length. Almost certainly, though, they weren’t planning on diminishing home field advantage while they were at it.

In recent years, Rob Mains of Baseball Prospectus has extensively documented the plight of the home team. Connelly Doan measured the incidence of bunts in extra innings and compared the observed rate to a theoretical optimum. Earlier this month, Jay Jaffe dove into the details and noted that strikeouts and walks are a key point of difference between regulation frames and bonus baseball. These all explain the differing dynamics present in extras. But there’s one question I haven’t seen answered: How exactly does this work in practice? Are home teams scoring too little? Are away teams scoring too much? Do home teams play the situations improperly? I set out to answer these questions empirically, using all the data we have on extra innings, to get a sense of where theory and practice diverge.

The theory of extra inning scoring is relatively simple. I laid it out in 2020, and the math still works. You can take a run expectancy chart, start with a runner on second and no one out, and figure out how many runs teams score in that situation in general. If you want to get fancy, you can even find a distribution: how often they score one run, two runs, no runs, and so on. For example, I can tell you that from 2020 to 2025, excluding the ninth inning and extra innings, teams that put a runner on second base with no one out went on to score 0.99 runs per inning. Read the rest of this entry »

In 2024, Tarik Skubal won the American League Cy Young. It was unanimous, and deservedly so. However many superlatives you can think of for his production, he probably deserved them. He shouldered a heavy workload, combined devastating movement and velocity with great command, and led the Tigers to the playoffs in the bargain. It’s the kind of year that stands as the best season of many players’ careers.

That might sound like I’m calling Skubal a one hit wonder, but I’m absolutely not. We projected him to be the best pitcher in baseball before the season started. We also projected him to strike out fewer batters, walk more, allow more home runs, and post a higher ERA and FIP than he did in 2024. You can be great and still worse than Skubal was in 2024. In fact, almost all great pitchers are worse than he was last year. It’s hard to be that good!

You’ll note that I didn’t say it’s impossible to be that good. That’s because, uh, have you seen Tarik Skubal pitch this year? His statistics sound almost made up. He’s the class of baseball, very clearly the best pitcher in the game this year. Of course, if you’ve kept up with our leaderboards and watched highlights, I’m not telling you anything new. But on the occasion of the best game of Skubal’s career, I thought it would be fun to dig into his marvelous season and just admire it for a bit. Tarik Skubal is everything, everywhere, all at once. His 2025 is the best in every way it’s possible to be the best. We don’t always have to wonder whether something is sustainable. Sometimes we can just appreciate it. Read the rest of this entry »

Hello, and welcome to another edition of Five Things I Liked (Or Didn’t Like) This Week. I’ll keep the introduction short today, because I’m getting ready to travel to St. Louis for a game with my dad and uncle. There’s a Masyn Winn bobblehead ticketed for my memorabilia shelf – and a pile of enjoyable plays to recap before I can go get it. So, of course, thank you to Zach Lowe of The Ringer, whose NBA columns of likes and dislikes inspired this one, and let’s get started.

1. The Weekend of Wilmer
I have a soft spot for Wilmer Flores through a sheer fluke of geography. I lived in New York during his Mets tenure, and I moved to San Francisco around the same time he did. His walk-up music has been the same for the last decade: the Friends theme song. It’s a fan favorite and even comes with a good story. He’s the quintessential role player, a guy that most teams would love to have but no team needs to have. He’s been pitching in across the diamond, albeit in decreasingly difficult defensive roles, that whole time. With the exception of a down 2024, he’s been consistently valuable, but he’s never been a star – the closest thing I know to a Wilmer Flores highlight is his charming sadness when he thought he was getting traded.

For just one weekend, though, that all changed. Flores has been improbably dueling with Aaron Judge for the major league RBI lead throughout the first eight weeks of the season. RBI might not be a great predictive stat, and it might not be a great stat overall, but it definitely matters to players. Fancier versions of measuring contextual offense – WPA, RE24, and so on – all think that Flores has been a top 10 run producer this year, too. He’d fallen behind Judge by just a hair in those races – and probably has no chance at keeping up all season. I mean, have you seen Aaron Judge? But none of that mattered when the Giants played the A’s last weekend.
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Everyone should have one weird player they love. If I were commissioner of baseball, this would be part of my pitch to fans. There are a million different ways to succeed in this sport we all love, and if you only like the guys who swing hard, throw fast, and run well, you’d miss the splashes of color that dot the sport. Tyler Rogers pitches upside down. Jose Altuve is small but mighty. Luis Arraez swings slowly on purpose. Then you’ve got my personal favorite, Isaac Paredes, who is among the league leaders in WAR thanks to his one weird trick.

That weird trick is incredibly valuable: pulling the ball in the air. Take a look at the distribution of his aerial contact this year:

Paredes isn’t going to wow you with barrels. His hard-hit rate is among the league’s lowest. Many of those home runs look farcical. This one would be out of only five parks:

I know, I know, this isn’t news. I’ve been writing about Paredes’ pull-only power for years, marveling at his ability to rack up star-level production with journeyman-level raw tools. Since the start of the 2022 season, when he first became an everyday regular, he’s been worth about as much WAR as Bryce Harper (11.9 to Harper’s 12.4) in about as many plate appearances (1,798 to Harper’s 1,818). Some of that is defense, but even if you want to compare him on the offensive end, he’s matched Carlos Correa, Anthony Santander, and Corbin Carroll at the plate. Read the rest of this entry »

Back in the halcyon days of 2021, things were looking up for Robbie Ray. After a promising but inconsistent start to his career, he put everything together all at once and won a Cy Young award. He hit free agency on the back of that season and signed a deal that guaranteed him five times what he’d made in the majors so far. The future was bright – except that Ray turned around and put up a miserable 2022 campaign, meaningfully worse across the board despite pitching in Seattle, where trained squirrels can go six innings and give up two runs in the pitcher-friendliest ballpark in the big leagues. Then he got hurt. And later got traded as salary ballast. Life comes at you fast.

Ray would hardly be the first pitcher to spike some hardware in a weak year — only six AL pitchers reached 4 WAR in 2021; Ray wasn’t one of them — and then fade away. Rick Porcello says hi, by the way. If Ray’s last act was keeping replacement-level time on the Giants, at least he got his one big payday. Expectations weren’t high, and when he was shut down with an injury only a month after returning in the second half of last year, they fell further still.

Of course, I’m writing this article, so you know that hasn’t continued. Rather than teeter into irrelevance, Ray has come out strong to start 2025. He looks as good as he has since his award-winning season – and arguably even better. So let’s look at how he’s doing it now, because whether you’re a long-time Ray-head or just seeing the first Rays of light this year, he’s a strange enough – and fun enough – pitcher to be worth taking notice of. Read the rest of this entry »

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Cal Raleigh has a lot of power. That’s always been his calling card, at least on offense. In each of his three full major league seasons, he’s posted a below-average OBP and an above-average offensive line. In cavernous T-Mobile Park, the hardest place to hit in baseball, his 34 home runs and .436 slugging percentage in 2024 were downright titanic. This year, though, he’s tapped into something new.

Or, well, his results are absolutely something new. One very interesting thing about Raleigh’s spectacular 2025: It hasn’t come from more raw power. Maximum exit velocity? Nothing new for Raleigh. Neither is his average exit velocity, nor his hard-hit rate, both of which are broadly in line with 2024. His bat speed is the same. When he’s trying to hit a home run, he’s doing it the way he always has.

But while his ability to hit baseballs hard might be the same as it’s always been, he’s demonstrating that ability more often than ever before. He’s both putting the ball in the air and pulling his elevated contact more frequently, and more of his batted balls are barrels, too. He’s striking out less frequently, with a career-high contact rate and career-low swinging strike rate.

Nothing is ever so simple that it’s driven by one thing, but I think there’s one important change driving Raleigh’s surge. It’s something he’s been working toward for a few years, in fact. When Raleigh is ahead in the count and pitchers throw him meatballs over the heart of the plate, he’s swinging less than ever before:

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Welcome to another edition of Five Things I Liked (Or Didn’t Like) This Week. Actually, the title is a misnomer today. A week of baseball is great, but you know what else is great? A single game of baseball. Monday night, Paul Skenes and the Pirates took on the scalding-hot Mets. It was one of the most exciting matchups we’ll get all regular season, pitting my pick for the best pitcher in baseball against one of the top offenses in the game. This being baseball, the best pregame matchups don’t always lead to the most exciting events. This time, however, the hype was warranted, and the game was both delightful and delightfully weird. So with apologies to Zach Lowe for changing the format he created, let’s try this again: Welcome to Five Things I Liked During The Mets Pirates Game From Monday.

1. My Skenes vs. Your Team
It’s downright crazy how good Skenes is. He’s so fun to watch, at least as long as he isn’t making your team look silly. He throws everything, and all of it is nasty. He drew swinging strikes on five different pitch types, and some of them left batters baffled:

Juan Soto doesn’t look like that very often. But that’s because pitchers like Skenes also don’t come around very often. Seriously, this pitch was 94 miles an hour?! This is unfair:

The Mets hassled Skenes repeatedly throughout his six innings. He surrendered six hits, tying a career high, and walked three. But when there were runners on base, Skenes found another gear. Five of his six strikeouts came with men on. He threw harder, pitched for whiffs, and generally flummoxed his opponents. He’s not always going to allow only one run, but despite the Mets finding occasional cracks in his armor, one earned run felt like a fair result. When Skenes is on the mound, the other team starts at a disadvantage. Read the rest of this entry »

They say that the first step to fixing a problem is admitting that you have one. In that spirit, I’d like to start today’s article with a confession: I have a Trent Grisham evaluation problem. It feels good to say it! I’ve had this problem for years. Ever since he burst onto the scene in San Diego with two straight seasons of good hitting and great fielding, I’ve consistently overestimated his future trajectory. I put him on the first cut of my trade value list every year. I think of him as a starter even when the teams that employ him don’t.

I know all of this. When I’ve looked at Grisham in the past, I’ve seen an excellent player even when others haven’t, and I understand that this bias shades my evaluation. But just when I thought I was kicking the habit, Grisham goes and does something like this and pulls me right back in. Through Monday’s action, the first quarter of the season, he’s hitting a ludicrous .288/.373/.663, and while that’s not any reasonable hitter’s slugging percentage, he’s absolutely tattooing the ball, posting career high marks in barrel rate, hard-hit rate, xwOBACON, xSLG, average exit velocity… You get the idea, he’s just hitting everything very hard at the moment.

Now, as a reformed Grishamite, I have to tell you that hitting the ball hard isn’t one of Grisham’s shortcomings. Not quite like this, of course, because the only person who regularly hits like this is Aaron Judge, but he’s always been a threat to go deep. Grisham might have a low-ish wRC+ over the past three years, but the problem has been the quantity of his hits rather than the quality. Even while he scuffled mightily, he slugged roughly 20 homers per 600 plate appearances. He doesn’t always put the ball in play, but when he does, he makes it count.

Grisham also forces pitchers to come to him. He’s among the league’s best when it comes to chase rate, and he’s walking at a double digit clip. Again, though, I have to tell you that this isn’t new. Grisham’s chase rate is higher than it was last year, and his walk rate is below his career average. Unlike your typical outfielder with a below-average batting line, this isn’t an issue of Grisham never seeing a slider he doesn’t like. He’s quite willing to work a count if pitchers won’t challenge him in the zone. Read the rest of this entry »

If you’ve ever struck up a conversation with a stranger at the ballpark, you might have noticed that the FanGraphs readers are easy to spot. Let’s say you find yourself discussing the Yankees. A FanGraphs reader might ponder whether the 30-point gap between Paul Goldschmidt’s wOBA and xwOBA will catch up to him, while a non-reader is more likely to fret over whether Brian Cashman is too reliant on analytics when constructing the team’s roster. But sometimes, the two groups ask the same thing. So today, let’s consider one of those broad questions: Should teams be intentionally walking Aaron Judge more often?

Admit it. You’ve wondered. If you’re a Yankees fan, you’ve wondered just how long Judge is going to be allowed to hit in big spots. If you’re a fan of the team the Yankees are playing, you’ve wondered how your team’s manager ought to solve this impossible puzzle. And if you’re a neutral fan, well, Aaron Judge is the biggest story in baseball right now. He’s having one of the best offensive stretches in the history of the game. Don’t you want to know if there’s anything that can be done about it?

Ever since Barry Bonds broke the sport in the early 2000s, every hot streak in baseball comes with questions about the “Bonds treatment.” Now, that doesn’t necessarily mean 120 intentional walks, Bonds’ tally in 2004 and the single-season record. (It’s the single-season record by 52 walks. Second place? Barry Bonds. Third place? Barry Bonds.) The best non-Bonds total was Willie McCovey’s 45 in 1969. The most Judge has ever racked up in a single season is a measly 20. So the question isn’t whether teams should treat him like Bonds, because no, they shouldn’t. But should they treat him like McCovey? And more importantly, how should opposing managers handle Judge in a playoff game, when all the chips are on the table? Let’s do some math. Read the rest of this entry »