Because we never got enough for (overpaid and over the hill) Kluber!
‘Good luck hitting that’: Emmanuel Clase, the Cleveland Indians’ 100 mph man and emerging relief ace
By Zack Meisel 3h ago 10
Franmil Reyes stepped in against Emmanuel Clase one morning this spring, and Clase slung a pitch near the slugger’s head. Reyes backed out of the batter’s box and motioned to the other members of his hitting group: Andrés Giménez, Gabriel Arias and Ryan Lavarnway.
“You guys face him,” Reyes said.
“Franmil, you go,” they countered.
“Yeah, I feel good,” Reyes replied. “I’m ready for the game. I don’t want to face him anymore.”
That’s a growing sentiment around the league. No one, whether a teammate taking live batting practice or an overmatched opponent bold enough to stand at the plate during the ninth inning, should want to face Clase.
Every time the bullpen door swings open and Clase emerges, it’s appointment viewing. For those at home watching on TV. For those at the ballpark, hoping to see steam rise from the baseball as it zips toward the plate. And even for those in Cleveland uniforms.
“Every time he’s throwing,” Zach Plesac said, “we’re all at the edge of the dugout watching.”
Sure, but watching what, exactly? Clase’s effortless delivery, perhaps. Maybe the movement on his cutter or the plunging action on his slider.
Or, more likely, the radar gun. It’s hard to blame anyone for having their eyes glued to the scoreboard in anticipation of another triple-digit reading.
“Believe me, I get stuck watching the radar gun, too,” assistant pitching coach Ruben Niebla said, “and I’m supposed to be watching the body move.”
“Doesn’t everybody?” bullpen coach Brian Sweeney said.
Clase’s heat generates a buzz in the ballpark, with everyone waiting to hear the distinct pop in the catcher’s mitt before they jerk their heads toward the nearest display of “100” or “101.”
“He has a slider that’s faster than most people’s fastballs,” Bryan Shaw said.
“It’s cool to see three digits pop up,” Aaron Civale said. “Ten miles per hour harder than most of my pitches.”
Clase was clocked with a radar gun for the first time at 14 years old. He threw 82 mph. He grew up in the countryside in the Dominican Republic and was always tasked with firing the final rock to knock down each coconut.
“I always knew I had some extra power compared to my peers,” he said through team interpreter Agustin Rivero.
In 2019, Clase’s first tour of the majors, his vaunted cutter averaged 99.2 mph. This year, through eight appearances, it has averaged 100.3 mph. He has thrown 67 pitches that registered at least 100 mph, more than twice as many as any other pitcher. He has thrown 51.5 percent of his pitches at that velocity, also tops in the league; Aroldis Chapman ranks second, at 28.3 percent.
“He’s obviously stupidly good,” Shaw said.
“He throws 100 (mph) at dudes’ hands,” Plesac said.
“It is really impressive,” Sweeney said. “When you get people just shaking their head — it looks like a slider, it moves like a slider and it says ‘101.’ That’s not something you typically see every day.”
Clase said he notices the velocity measurements, too. He just prefers to ignore them and focus on his battle with the hitter.
Those fortunate enough to put one of his triple-digit missiles in play this season have mostly pounded the baseball into the infield grass. The movement of the cutter complicates a batter’s bid to make solid contact. Clase owns a 71.4 percent groundball rate (league average is 45 percent). His average opponent exit velocity, expected ERA and chase rate all rank among the sport’s elite.
Of course, it has been only eight appearances. But the metrics match the pure ability Clase showcases.
“It’s unfair,” Logan Allen said. “It definitely makes you think about, how do people hit him?”
So, what’s next? To determine that, we need to rewind a year.
Clase kept his arm in shape last summer while serving his performance-enhancing drugs suspension at home in the Dominican. He sent the coaching staff video of his throwing sessions. Niebla ran point on communication with Clase since both speak Spanish, but connecting with him proved challenging at times. Service was spotty in Clase’s hometown. They used WhatsApp to stay in touch.
Clase worked out at the team’s complex in Goodyear, Ariz., in the fall, and the Indians were able to derive some data from his mound work and learn more about him. From there, they could explain to Clase what makes him so effective. It’s not just the velocity, though that obviously factors into the equation. Niebla wanted to ensure Clase understood why his motion — “the perfect combination of strength, power and mobility in delivering a baseball,” Niebla said — allows him to throw so hard, what the optimal ball flight is for his pitches, which routines would properly prepare him for a full, major-league season, and how he can sustain his effectiveness for years.
“He’s already bringing the most important element to the table, which is stuff,” Niebla said.
It’s a welcome addition to a bullpen that, over the course of the 2018-20 seasons, owned the league’s lowest average fastball velocity at 91.7 mph. Clase’s slider has averaged 91.1 mph this season, and it has sealed half of his 10 strikeouts. Sweeney suggested the unusual spin of the pitch forces it toward the dirt just as it reaches the plate.
“When you can have that kind of control over that type of pitch, it can be a huge weapon,” Sweeney said, “because it acts like a splitter. It’s coming at you with straight bullet spin and all of a sudden, at the end, the bottom drops out.
“Good luck hitting that.”
Clase hasn’t amassed gaudy strikeout totals in the past, but as manager Terry Francona has repeatedly noted, that could stem from his command and his tendency to live in the strike zone, where he can induce weak contact. He has maintained an exceptional walk rate since 2018. Now that his slider is more refined, perhaps his strikeout rate will soar. He has thrown the pitch about a quarter of the time, but the slider has flashed elite vertical and horizontal movement for a pitch of its velocity, and it seems to pair better with his cutter. Two years ago, the slider didn’t break as much horizontally.
Last homestand, Clase started Nomar Mazara — a longtime friend from their days together with the Rangers — with five consecutive cutters, ranging from 100.3 mph to 101.2 mph. Then he dropped in the decisive slider that spun toward Mazara’s feet.
So far this season, Clase has been convincing hitters to chase his pitches out of the strike zone more often, and they have made contact less often, a productive combination. His whiff rate (percentage of empty swings) of 32.8 percent has also increased by about one-third over his 2019 output.
The skill is clear for everyone to see. That includes Francona, who has already entrusted the 23-year-old with high-leverage opportunities in the late innings. Clase starts to get loose during the fifth inning, but Francona has saved him for the end of games. Clase has handled the ninth inning in all but one of his appearances, and he has been regularly summoned to retire the heart of the opposition’s lineup.
When Clase stands atop the mound, everyone is watching, waiting for the next radar reading, the next ugly swing, the next foul tip that delivers a jolt of pain to a batter’s hands, and the next strikeout.
“It’s something that fires me up,” Reyes said. “Like, ‘Here comes the big guy.’ There’s no chance they’re getting anything on this guy.”
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