Culture
Why Padres' Robert Suarez is spamming fastballs — and why hitters still can't hit them
SAN DIEGO — Kyle Higashioka spent seven seasons crouching behind home plate for Aroldis Chapman, Gerrit Cole and other pitchers with rare arms and uncommon velocity, but in his first season with the Padres, the veteran catcher has found himself marveling at what feels like a true anomaly.
Robert Suarez, San Diego’s soft-spoken, hard-throwing closer, is spamming high heat like no other pitcher in the majors. His combined fastball usage has jumped almost 30 percentage points from last season. He has gone to his four-seamer, which averages 98.5 mph, just over 80 percent of the time. He has mixed in his sinker (97.9 mph average) on close to 11 percent of his pitches. And in one remarkable eight-game span last month, Suarez reached back for 79 fastballs in a row.
“People don’t even do that in high school,” said Higashioka, who played prep ball against Cole more than a decade before the two Southern California natives became batterymates on the New York Yankees. “It’s pretty crazy.”
It would be even more peculiar if Suarez, 33, were having limited success with such an approach. But the Venezuelan right-hander is neither stubborn nor unimaginative. Suarez owns a 0.52 ERA across 16 appearances. In an otherwise shaky Padres bullpen, he is tied for the major-league lead in games finished (16), saves (12) and saves of more than three outs (three). Opponents are hitting .250 (1-for-4) against his plus changeup and just .093 (4-for-43) against a four-seamer that has warranted the heavy usage.
“It’s got the ride, the characteristics, and he’s pitching at the top of the zone,” said Los Angeles Dodgers manager Dave Roberts. “You know what’s coming, but a lot of the swings, (batters) just can’t catch up to it. I don’t like when he comes into the game.”
Why has a frequently seen fastball been so unhittable?
“I’ve been helped a lot by (Padres pitching coach) Ruben Niebla in using all sorts of analytics towards my pitches, primarily the spin rate,” Suarez said recently through team interpreter Pedro Gutiérrez. “That’s allowed me to execute a little bit more.”
Saturday, hours after Suarez threw 11 four-seamers, two sinkers and nothing else in a perfect inning against the Dodgers, Niebla explained in more detail.
Suarez has acquired a practical understanding of spin efficiency, Niebla said, since San Diego signed him out of Japan’s top professional league after the 2021 season. While there is no proven way to significantly boost raw spin rate without the aid of banned foreign substances, Suarez has increased the active spin — a Statcast metric that measures spin that contributes to movement — on his four-seamer from 93.7 percent in 2022 to 95.9 percent this season. Since the end of 2023, the pitch has gained almost an inch of average vertical movement, the “ride” Roberts mentioned.
“If he starts working inside the ball a little bit too much, his four-seamer starts running and we’re going to lose spin efficiency,” Niebla said. “If it cuts a little bit, we’re going to lose spin efficiency. Right now, he seems to be clicking. Like, metrically, he’s behind the ball and really getting that pure backspin.”
More than 90 percent of Robert Suarez’s pitches this season have been fastballs. (Tim Nwachukwu / Getty Images)
Calibrating Suarez’s delivery has been key. Early in spring training, Niebla noticed that the pitcher was moving well down the mound with his lower half but also that his torso was “a little bit behind.” Suarez struggled in his first few Cactus League appearances, even as he and Niebla worked to address the root cause. It wasn’t until Suarez’s final spring outing in Arizona that Niebla felt the reliever had fully synced up his timing.
“Even when he went to Korea (for the season opener against the Dodgers) … I was still a little bit nervous, and then it was good,” Niebla said Saturday at Petco Park. “Then he came out here. And then you just track — I’m just tracking. But right now, I feel it’s pretty simple where I don’t even have to talk to him. It’s just like, ‘You’re in rhythm.’ I don’t even tell him that he is in rhythm.”
Higashioka played six seasons with Chapman, who still holds the Guinness World Record for the fastest major-league pitch, a 105.8 mph ball thrown to Tony Gwynn Jr. at Petco Park in 2010. “He’s pretty high-effort,” Higashioka said. “You could tell he was using every ounce of his strength to get everything behind it.” Suarez, meanwhile, possesses what approaches the textbook definition of “easy gas.”
“Sometimes,” said Padres starting catcher Luis Campusano, “it almost teleports into my glove.”
Those who have spent time around Suarez point out something else.
“He’s got really good command,” Roberts said.
“The first bullpen I caught, I was amazed at the command,” Higashioka said. “It was just, like, almost pinpoint. And for a guy to be throwing 100 with above-average command, I mean, that’s pretty special.”
“There’s a combination of being able to hit 100 but being able to hit 100 when this guy’s putting it to the top of the zone and then goes to the outer half of the zone, and all of a sudden there’s a two-seamer that he can lock you up on,” Niebla said. “It’s like, ‘Oh, s—, was that it or was that the other one?’”
During his run of 79 consecutive fastballs, Suarez threw 74 four-seamers and five sinkers. He allowed no runs, two singles and two walks. (The only run off Suarez this season came March 28 when Michael Conforto struck a changeup for a solo homer.) He recorded only five strikeouts, but he induced consistent weak contact and kept hitters off balance by varying the speed of his delivery.
Sometime around the 40th or 50th fastball in a row, a number of Suarez’s teammates began talking among themselves: Something different was happening.
“I think we were all just kind of monitoring,” Higashioka said. “We noticed that he wasn’t really throwing anything else but he was still dominating. It was pretty cool.”
“I know that fastball usage is high, but it’s been his best weapon. It is his best weapon,” Campusano, Suarez’s primary batterymate, said on April 22 before a game at Coors Field. “So, kind of just mixing up the whole times to the plate, it makes it really that much more effective. I feel very confident just using it until someone can prove they’re gonna put a good swing on it.
“You know 100’s coming. You just don’t know where it’s coming.”
Robert Suárez 100mph ⛽️⛽️ pic.twitter.com/ZMSQtDHInk
— Rob Friedman (@PitchingNinja) May 7, 2024
A prudent competitor, of course, never reveals too much. Several hours after Campusano spoke, the catcher called for a 1-2 changeup instead of what would have been Suarez’s 80th straight fastball. Sean Bouchard fouled it off. Then, against the next pitch, the Colorado Rockies outfielder doubled.
It was the lone extra-base hit Suarez had surrendered this season with his fastball. Now, three weeks later, it still is. And Suarez has only increased his usage of that pitch. So far in May, he is throwing the four-seamer nearly 90 percent of the time. Hitters this month are 0-for-14 against it.
“It’s like, this is my strength,” said Niebla, who maintains that Suarez continues to work between games on his changeup and cutter/slider, a pitch he has yet to throw in a game this year. “As a reliever, you got to use it.”
Since the pitch-tracking era began in 2008, only a dozen pitchers have thrown a four-seamer, a sinker or a cutter with at least 90 percent of their pitches (minimum 500 total pitches). Mariano Rivera, widely recognized as the greatest closer of all time, leads the way at 98.5 percent; his famous cutter comprised 87.6 percent of his pitches during that span.
Across the past 16 seasons, no one threw a four-seamer or sinker more than 86.7 percent of the time. In 2024, Suarez (68.3 percent over his big-league career) is at 91.3 percent. The only pitcher throwing non-cutter fastballs more often this season is former Padres reliever Tim Hill, and the left-hander’s average four-seamer is 8 mph slower than that of Suarez, who has logged 13 pitches of at least 100 mph.
There may come a time when opponents’ adjustments or other factors prompt Suarez to dial back the extreme fastball reliance. For now, who knows when his next off-speed pitch will come: One of baseball’s more automatic closers entered Sunday having thrown 32 consecutive fastballs.
(Top photo of Robert Suarez: Michael Reaves / Getty Images)
Culture
What Happens When We Die? This Wallace Stevens Poem Has Thoughts.
Whatever you do, don’t think of a bird.
Now: What kind of bird are you not thinking about? A pigeon? A bald eagle? Something more poetic, like a skylark or a nightingale? In any case, would you say that this bird you aren’t thinking about is real?
Before you answer, read this poem, which is quite literally about not thinking of a bird.
Human consciousness is full of riddles. Neuroscientists, philosophers and dorm-room stoners argue continually about what it is and whether it even exists. For Wallace Stevens, the experience of having a mind was a perpetual source of wonder, puzzlement and delight — perfectly ordinary and utterly transcendent at the same time. He explored the mysteries and pleasures of consciousness in countless poems over the course of his long poetic career. It was arguably his great theme.
Stevens was born in 1879 and published his first book, “Harmonium,” in 1923, making him something of a late bloomer among American modernists. For much of his adult life, he worked as an executive for the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company, rising to the rank of vice president. He viewed insurance less as a day job to support his poetry than as a parallel vocation. He pursued both activities with quiet diligence, spending his days at the office and composing poems in his head as he walked to and from work.
As a young man, Stevens dreamed of traveling to Europe, though he never crossed the Atlantic. In middle age he made regular trips to Florida, and his poems are frequently infused with ideas of Paris and Rome and memories of Key West. Others partake of the stringent beauty of New England. But the landscapes he explores, wintry or tropical, provincial or cosmopolitan, are above all mental landscapes, created by and in the imagination.
Are those worlds real?
Let’s return to the palm tree and its avian inhabitant, in that tranquil Key West sunset of the mind.
Until then, we find consolation in fangles.
Culture
Wil Wheaton Discusses ‘Stand By Me’ and Narrating ‘The Body’ Audiobook
When the director Rob Reiner cast his leads in the 1986 film “Stand by Me,” he looked for young actors who were as close as possible to the personalities of the four children they’d be playing. There was the wise beyond his years kid from a rough family (River Phoenix), the slightly dim worrywart (Jerry O’Connell), the cutup with a temper (Corey Feldman) and the sensitive, bookish boy.
Wil Wheaton was perfect for that last one, Gordie Lachance, a doe-eyed child who is ignored by his family in favor of his late older brother. Now, 40 years later, he’s traveling the country to attend anniversary screenings of the film, alongside O’Connell and Feldman, which has thrown him back into the turmoil that he felt as an adolescent.
Wheaton has channeled those emotions and his on-set memories into his latest project: narrating a new audiobook version of “The Body,” the 1982 Stephen King novella on which the film was based.
A few years ago, Wheaton started to float the idea of returning to the story that gave him his big break — that of a quartet of boys in 1959 Oregon, in their last days before high school, setting out to find a classmate’s dead body. “I’ve been telling the story of ‘Stand By Me’ since I was 12 years old,” he said.
But this time was different. Wheaton, who has narrated dozens of audiobooks, including Andy Weir’s “The Martian” and Ernest Cline’s “Ready Player One,” says he has come to enjoy narration more than screen acting. “I’m safe, I’m in the booth, nobody’s looking at me and I can just tell you a story.”
The fact that he, an older man looking back on his younger years, is narrating a story about an older man looking back on his younger years, is not lost on Wheaton. King’s original story is bathed in nostalgia. Coming to terms with death and loss is one of its primary themes.
Two days after appearing on stage at the Academy Awards as part of a tribute to Reiner — who was murdered in 2025 alongside his wife, Michele — Wheaton got on the phone to talk about recording the audiobook, reliving his favorite scenes from the film and reexamining a quintessential story of childhood loss through the lens of his own.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
“I felt really close to him, and my memory of him.”
Wheaton on channeling a co-star’s performance.
There’s this wonderful scene in “Stand By Me.” Gordie and Chris are walking down the tracks talking about junior high. Chris is telling Gordie, “I wish to hell I was your dad, because I care about you, and he obviously doesn’t.”
It’s just so honest and direct, in a way that kids talk to each other that adults don’t. And I think that one of the reasons that really sticks with people, and that piece really lands on a lot of audiences, and has for 40 years, is, just too many people have been Gordie in that scene.
That scene is virtually word for word taken from the text of the book. And when I was narrating that, I made a deliberate choice to do my best to recreate what River did in that scene.
“You’re just a kid,
Gordie–”
“I wish to fuck
I was your father!”
he said angrily.
“You wouldn’t go around
talking about takin those stupid shop courses if I was!
It’s like
God gave you something,
all those stories
you can make up, and He said:
This is what we got for you, kid.
Try not to lose it.
But kids lose everything
unless somebody looks out for them and if your folks
are too fucked up to do it
then maybe I ought to.”
I watched that scene a couple of times because I really wanted — I don’t know why it was so important to me to — well, I know: because I loved him, and I miss him. And I wanted to bring him into this as best as I could, right?
So I was reading that scene, and the words are identical to the script. And I had this very powerful flashback to being on the train tracks that day in Cottage Grove, Oregon. And I could see River standing next to them. They’re shooting my side of the scene and there’s River, right next to the camera, doing his off-camera dialogue, and there’s the sound guy, and there’s the boom operator. There’s my key light.
I could hear and feel it. It was the weirdest thing. It’s like I was right back there.
I was able to really take in the emotional memory of being Gordie in all of those scenes. So when I was narrating him and I’m me and I’m old with all of this experience, I just drew on what I remembered from being that little boy and what I remember of those friendships and what they meant to me and what they mean to me today.
“Rob gave me a gift. Rob gave me a career.”
Wheaton recalls the “Stand By Me” director’s way with kids on set, as well as his recent Oscars tribute.
Rob really encouraged us to be kids.
Jerry tells the most amazing story about that scene, where we were all sitting around, and doing our bit, and he improvised. He was just goofing around — we were just playing — and he said something about spitting water at the fat kid.
We get to the end of the scene, and he hears Rob. Rob comes around from behind the thing, and he goes, “Jerry!” And Jerry thinks, “Oh no, I’m in trouble. I’m in trouble because I improvised, and I’m not supposed to improvise.”
The context for Jerry is that he had been told by the adults in his life, “Sit on your hands and shut up. Stop trying to be a cutup. Stop trying to be funny. Stop disrupting people. Just be quiet.” And Jerry thinks, “Oh my God. I didn’t shut up. I’m in trouble. I’m gonna get fired.”
Rob leans in to all of us, and Rob says, “Hey, guys, do you see that? More of that. Do that!”
The whole time when you’re a kid actor, you’re just around all these adults who are constantly telling you to grow up. They’re mad that you’re being a kid. Rob just created an environment where not only was it supported that we would be kids — and have fun, and follow those kid instincts and do what was natural — it was expected. It was encouraged. We were supposed to do it.
They chanted together:
“I don’t shut up,
I grow up.
And when I look at you I throw up.”
“Then your mother goes around the corner
and licks it up,”
I said, and hauled ass out of there,
giving them the finger over my shoulder as I went.
I never had any friends later on
like the ones I had when I was twelve.
Jesus, did you?
When we were at the Oscars, I looked at Jerry. And we looked at this remarkable assemblage of the most amazingly talented, beautiful artists and storytellers. We looked around, and Jerry leans down, and he said, “We all got our start with Rob Reiner. He trusted every single one of us.”
And to stand there for him, when I really thought that I would be standing with him to talk about this stuff — it was a lot.
“I was really really really excited — like jumping up and down.”
The scene Wheaton was most looking forward to narrating: the tale of Lard Ass Hogan.
I was so excited to narrate it. It’s a great story! It’s a funny story. It’s such a lovely break — it’s an emotional and tonal shift from what’s happening in the movie.
I know this as a writer: You work to increase and release tension throughout a narrative, and Stephen King uses humor really effectively to release that tension. But it also raises the stakes, because we have these moments of joy and these moments of things being very silly in the midst of a lot of intensity.
That’s why the story of Lard Ass Hogan is so fun for me to tell. Because in the middle of that, we stop to do something that’s very, very fun, and very silly and very celebratory.
“Will you shut up and let him tell it?”
Teddy hollered.
Vern blinked.
“Sure. Yeah.
Okay.”
“Go on, Gordie,”
Chris said. “It’s not really much—”
“Naw,
we don’t expect much from a wet end like you,”
Teddy said,
“but tell it anyway.”
I cleared my throat. “So anyway.
It’s Pioneer Days,
and on the last night
they have these three big events.
There’s an egg-roll for the little kids and a sack-race for kids that are like eight or nine,
and then there’s the pie-eating contest.
And the main guy of the story
is this fat kid nobody likes
named Davie Hogan.”
When I narrate this story — whenever there is a moment of levity or humor, whenever there are those brief little moments that are the seasoning of the meal that makes it all so real and relatable — yes, it was very important to me to capture those moments.
I’m shifting in my chair, so I can feel each of those characters. It’s something that doesn’t exist in live action. It doesn’t exist in any other media.
“I feel the loss.”
Wheaton remembers River Phoenix.
The novella “The Body” is very much about Gordie remembering Chris. It’s darker, and it’s more painful, than the movie is.
I’ve been watching the movie on this tour and seeing River a lot. I remember him as a 14- and 15-year-old kid who just seemed so much older, and so much more experienced and so much wiser than me, and I’m only a year younger than him.
What hurts me now, and what I really felt when I was narrating this, is knowing what River was going through then. We didn’t know. I still don’t know the extent of how he was mistreated, but I know that he was. I know that adults failed him. That he should have been protected in every way that matters. And he just wasn’t.
And I, like Gordie, remember a boy who was loving. So loving, and generous and cared deeply about everyone around him, all the time. Who deserved to live a full life. Who had so much to offer the world. And it’s so unfair that he’s gone and taken from us. I had to go through a decades-long grieving process to come to terms with him dying.
Near the end
of 1971,
Chris
went into a Chicken Delight in Portland
to get a three-piece Snack Bucket.
Just ahead of him,
two men started arguing
about which one had been first in line. One of them pulled a knife.
Chris,
who had always been the best of us
at making peace,
stepped between them and was stabbed in the throat.
The man with the knife had spent time in four different institutions;
he had been released from Shawshank State Prison
only the week before.
Chris died almost instantly.
It is a privilege that I was allowed to tell this story. I get to tell Gordie Lachance’s story as originally imagined by Stephen King, with all of the experience of having lived my whole adult life with the memory of spending three months in Gordie Lachance’s skin.
Culture
Do You Know the Comics That Inspired These TV Adventures?
Welcome to Great Adaptations, the Book Review’s regular multiple-choice quiz about printed works that have gone on to find new life as movies, television shows, theatrical productions and more. This week’s challenge highlights offbeat television shows that began as comic books. Just tap or click your answers to the five questions below. And scroll down after you finish the last question for links to the comics and their screen versions.
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