In the last moment before fury overtakes calm, Tarik Skubal stands on the plateau of a 10-inch-tall pedestal of dirt and clay as an imposing and finely calibrated 240 pounds of human pitching machinery. Nothing superfluous. Nothing without purpose. Brutally efficient.
The calibrations that lead him to the mound for a playoff game are no different than for a midseason start. The pulses of electromagnetic waves over his body, the four shots of espresso, the hot tub, the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, the dynamic warmup, the 17 to 22 pitches in the bullpen ... all of it as detailed, immutable and unassailable as Newton’s second law of motion. Skubal is so detail-obsessed that he tracks the speed of the bar when he lifts weights.
