Osuna has all pieces of his puzzle back together
Toronto’s young closer better than ever three years after Tommy John surgery
PHILADELPHIA— Roberto Osuna rolls up the sleeve of his workout jersey, right arm. There’s the scar: A bit twisty, wormy, no more than three inches in length, still vividly discolouring the skin.
This is the remnant of Tommy John surgery Toronto’s marquee closer had at 18 three years ago. Made him a better pitcher, he claims. Actually, rephrase: “Not a better pitcher. A stronger pitcher.”
Underwent the procedure in Arizona. What the Jays hope very much to avoid with starting rotation stud Aaron Sanchez, the strapping right-hander headed for the bullpen — no ifs ands or buts — either soon or not so soon, t’other side of the all-star break.
Osuna is Exhibit A in the effectiveness of Tommy John. “Feels way better, way stronger. Maybe because you don’t throw for a year and you work on other things in your game while the arm heals. But I’ve never had any pain again.’’
A reporter’s examination of the 21-yearold’s upper limb travels down the fore- arm to forefinger. This is the digit that bled during Game 6 of the ALCS last year and continued to bother Osuna at spring training, a result of how he grips the ball on his slider.
What he feared would become a chronic problem has been solved.
“I got a fake nail,’’ he points out, demonstrating the partial, teeny prosthetic. “I got it the mall,” Osuna announces. Done now scrutinizing Osuna’s body parts and that really is the bottom line: Feeling fine. All rested up from a state of “just hanging” as manager John Gibbons had put it last weekend, when he sur- prisingly deployed Jason Grilli to close out in a tense 10-9 win over Baltimore. Eyebrow-raising to many, not seeing Osuna emerge from the ’pen in those circumstances. But then, he’d probably been summoned too often in the previous fortnight — five appearances in eight games, and not always in his comfortzone closing role but also with the score tied and runners inherited.
That’s a lot of pressure to put not just on Osuna’s arm but also inside the youngster’s head.
At first Gibbons didn’t disclose anything about Osuna’s arm soreness; later admitted he’d been withholding. So, lying then? The skipper, wryly, quoting J.P. Ricciardi: “It’s not a lie if we know the truth.”
More truth: Gibbons wouldn’t have turned so frequently to Osuna had he more faith in that raggedy bullpen, although it’s coming around of late.
Here’s the compelling fact about Osuna’s outings in 2016: Zero ERA when coming into a save situation (zero because those were inherited runners that scored in his two blown saves out of 15 save opportunities.)
ERA of 3.86 in his non-save appearances: Six earned runs in 14 innings.
Twice he’s given up two earned runs in one game. Twice he’s given up one earned run.
There’s clearly a correlation; the numbers get crooked, un-Osunalike in non-save situations. Why?
“Probably the adrenaline, a little bit,” he suggests, acknowledging that the heart pumps harder when he’s on the bump, master of his own destiny, master of Toronto’s destiny protecting a lead.
He admits forthrightly: “If it’s not a save situation, I probably don’t take that inning as important as it is, as it should be.”
It’s not all between Osuna’s ears, or in his chest. It’s situational baseball.
“The thing is, I think probably the hitter’s approach is different between save and non-save situation. More aggressive, you know? When I’m not in a save situation, I don’t know why but they swing early.
Osuna adds: “I would say also that it’s been a little bit of bad luck, too.’’
Conversely, Osuna changes his approach when pitching in a nonsave scenario.
“We don’t want to show him everything,” he says, of the strategic scheming between himself and the catcher calling the game, which has invariably been Martin. “We don’t want to show him my best stuff,” continues Osuna, ad- dressing the no-name batter. “So, not a save situation, four- or five-run lead, we just try to attack them with the fastball and don’t go to the secondary stuff.”
Just go out there and blind the batter with his fastball, keep the slider and change-up in his pocket for use as needed.
“Yeah, beat him with your fastball. And that’s when I get hit.”
Because if a hitter knows what to expect, he can indeed hit it — even a fastball at 97, 98 m.p.h.
In the last week, before he was forcibly put on ’pen-hold by Gibbons, Osuna said he could have easily thrown even harder than what was documented by the radar gun. “I could have hit 100 in the last two weeks but I didn’t want to. “I didn’t want to force anything.” Just don’t go suggesting Osuna puts too much exertion into those fastball heaters, exposing him to renewed risk of blowing out the repaired elbow. That there’s more injury vulnerability in throwing violently across his body. “Not true,’’ he argues. “Most people say I don’t even look like I’m throwing, 97, 98, because my arm action is so natural.’’
The Natural: Except for that transplanted tendon in the elbow and a falsie on his finger.