In a sentence or two, how might you describe Bryce Miller?
27 year old right-handed pitcher for the Seattle Mariners from Texas, with lively personality and fastball, who is diminished in 2025 due to injuries
after a strong first few seasons.
It’s correct. And yet, it reads quite differently than what might’ve been penned this March, when Miller was the hottest arm in Peoria, lighting up Spring Training with improved stuff that had most of this site’s staff expecting a breakout campaign. A year earlier, Miller was a question mark for his durability who’d never made 30 starts or thrown 180 innings. A year before, I’d have said the kid from Mount Pleasant was best suited for the type of life Matt Brash has undertaken.
For some friends and family, the sentence I’d have penned wouldn’t need alteration for years on end. Baseball players change with the tides. Or, crucially, our perception of them does. Tonight, Bryce Miller pitched like he believed he was enough, and 75 of 76 pitches told him he was right. He pitched with the conviction of belief that, well-executed, he is enough. I don’t share every conviction Bryce Miller has, from his zeal for his home state to his satisfaction with defining “sandwich cheese” as a suitable burden of specificity for a nickname. But I love my home, I love a good sandwich, and the lasting image of tonight’s brilliant 3-1 victory to give the Mariners a 1-0 lead in the ALCS is this:
Six innings before, such an outcome seemed unfathomable. Stretched beyond the limit as a pitching staff in their 15 inning epic Friday night, the M’s hoped Miller could weather at least a few frames on short rest. A George Springer first-pitch solo shot and a marathon plate appearance from Nathan Lukes that ended in a walk had him in a 1-0 hole with no outs and a pitch count careening towards a catastrophe, starring a lot of Luke Jackson. Instead, Miller’s most stressful subsequent moment was a second inning single that Victor Robles misplayed, letting Anthony Santander scamper to second. Miller would retire the next 13 straight Blue Jays, letting a fearsome offense defined by its ability to make contact do just that.
With a two-out walk in the bottom of the 6th, Miller drawled a curse into the field turf behind the pitcher’s mound, feeling assuredly his statement performance would end on a sour note. The broadcast seemed sure of it too, and despite my gripes with John Smoltz’s insidious negativity about the reality of linear time, I assumed the same. Instead, Cal Raleigh was the only Mariners catcher to meet him at the mound, alongside Hookless Pete Woodworth and the rest of the infield. Like Tarik Skubal two nights ago, Miller was assuredly informed he would be pulled after this frame, in fact likely this hitter, Alejandro Kirk.
Bryce could not reach back for 101 as Skubal did. But he found 97.4, on the edge, luring Toronto’s stellar backstop into his third of what would be four flyouts on the night. Not many starting pitchers get to leave with a smile. Miller, cheesing with relief and conviction, got to leave with a lead knowing he’d done everything and more the team needed of him. Everything and more he was capable of.
Now about that lead.
Kevin Gausman has entered the Mike Trout realm, in many ways, as a figure who could be viewed with sympathy for quite some time, yet at this point you have are responsible for what you signed up for. It’s astounding to watch one of the better pitchers in the American League and feel veritable certainty that they’ll strike out 10 Mariners, look untouchable for 5-6 frames, and pull the pin on a hand grenade he’ll hand off leisurely to his honey-handed bullpen. Sunday night was a mass-produced redux of the M’s legendary comeback in the 2022 AL Wild Card off Gausman and co., pared down to the gist.
Cal Raleigh being the stabilizer for Miller’s resolute stand was not enough. Coaxing Gabe Speier, Matt Brash, and Andrés Muñoz through 3.0 perfect frames comes standard. The Should-Be-MVP scalded a single in the first inning, went first-to-third on a Julio Rodríguez single as well, and decided his pitchers needed more. That home run off Gausman is a thing of absolute beauty. It’s not buried where Gausman hopes, but it’s hardly a hanger. Hitters hit just .181 off that splitter, just six homers in 1,137 offerings.
What are mere numbers in the face of Cal Raleigh? I am no better than John Smoltz. What can be said is that Gausman attacked Raleigh the way Raleigh would’ve surely attacked himself, not trusting his heater to beat the Sultan of Squat. Predictable is punishable, and Toronto yet again learned their lesson the hard way.
Often eager to add an explosion of his own, Julio swung so hard, Shohei Ohtani’s New Balance’s fell off his feet somewhere in Milwaukee. Down 0-1, he worked back off several frustrated misses from Gausman, who walked Julio to first base and himself out of the game. A wild pitch later and Jorge Polanco stood on the same side of the plate where he’d spoiled Skubal’s first start just one week ago. Steely and certain, with two knees he can count on beneath him, Polo made perfection of a 2-2 heater from southpaw Brendan Little, delivering a lead with a single the speedy Julio dashed home on with ease.
He’d add another single in the 8th, made meaningful by Randy Arozarena’s walk to first and blistering dashes to steal both second and third. The chopper dodged Julio running from first and second baseman Ernie Clement without prejudice, giving Brash and Muñoz the grace of a two-run lead that they made academic with their own dominance.
3-1 goes the game. 1-0 goes the series. Logan Gilbert goes tomorrow, and a better-rested bullpen and rotation than could’ve been dreamed of waits behind them. Not bad from some String Cheese.
