"Baseball is at heart a guessing game. The batter guesses what sort of pitch the pitcher is going to throw. The pitcher guesses what the batter is guessing and throws something else. The batter guesses what the pitcher is guessing about what the batter is guessing; the pitcher guesses what the batter is guessing the pitcher is guessing, and so on, ad pitchclockium. For the sport to be fundamentally fair, a correct guess needs to be useful."
"What, exactly, was Carson Kelly supposed to do with this-a 104.5 mph four-seamer precision-guided to the farthest, lowest corner of the strike zone? Kelly had just fouled off the first two pitches inside, the second a 102 mph fastball that he barely got around on. He had to protect the near half of the plate; diving into a pitch could've been suicide."
"The previous day, Kelly had been looking fastball and chased a slider off the plate before being frozen by another. Miller didn't just paint the corner; he tinted it. The bat never left Kelly's shoulder. Miller said postgame it was the best fastball he's ever thrown. This is what San Diego was dreaming about when it sent a mighty haul to the A's to snag Miller. The bullpen was already a strength for the Padres, who had sent three relievers to the All-Star Game."
Baseball operates as a multilayered guessing battle in which batters and pitchers try to anticipate each other's choices, with fairness depending on a correct guess being exploitable. A batter who correctly anticipates a pitch must be able to act on it or the contest becomes one-sided. Mason Miller exemplifies overpowering pitching: he unleashed a 104.5 mph four-seamer targeted at the lowest, far corner of the strike zone, leaving a hitter unable to swing without risking disaster. Miller’s fastball dominance continued after a trade to San Diego, producing a 0.77 ERA in 22 appearances and a high strikeout rate late in the season.
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