Jackson Chourio Was Nails

Mason Miller wasn't looking like himself by the time Jackson Chourio stepped to the plate in the bottom of the ninth of Game 2 of the NLDS. After making quick work of three Brewers hitters in the bottom of the eighth inning, Miller was trusted to go back out there for the ninth and protect the Padres' 3-2 lead. It was only the third time all season he'd been called on to pitch six outs, and by the time he'd recorded two outs in the ninth he'd also issued three walks. The most unhittable pitcher in baseball wasn't getting hit, but he was in trouble nonetheless.

None of this is meant to diminish what Chourio did next. It is only meant to establish that baseball is a game that unfolds as a series of discrete moments that are not necessarily related to what came before. The first three batters Miller faced were blown away, and then three more benefited from the fact that he was having some trouble locating his slider. Chourio watched all of this from the dugout and the on-deck circle, and as he stepped to the plate with two outs and the bases loaded and his team down a run, he had to decide how to attack Miller. Baseball's most indomitable relief pitcher had just given out three free passes, and it's very rare that anything nearly as good as getting on base comes from swinging at one of Miller's pitches. A good time to keep the bat the shoulder, no?

Miller, too, had to make a decision. He could decide to let what had already happened in the inning affect how he approached Chourio's at-bat, or he could put it all out of his mind. He could remember that he's Mason fucking Miller, the guy who struck out 129 batters in 70 regular-season innings and allowed 13 earned runs all year. He could decide that everything that had just happened didn't matter, and all he needed to do to get his team a win was get one out.

Miller sharpened up quickly. The first pitch of the at-bat was a 101 mph fastball that tailed in across the inside corner, towards Chourio's hands. Chourio could have watched the pitch, hoping for yet another ball that would give him a few percentage points of leverage in the at-bat. Instead he took a big hack and missed, establishing that he was not up there to try and milk a walk to tie the game. He was going to try and win the game.

The second pitch was a 102 mph fastball just off the outside edge of the plate, which Chourio managed to lay off. That was the perfect set up for the next two pitches. Miller followed the ball with another 102 mph heater, this one right down the middle of the plate. Chourio took another huge swing and missed. The next one came in at 104 mph, was perfectly placed on the outside corner, and was somehow fouled off by Chourio.

Miller's fastball absolutely kills. Batters hit .176 against it this year, and it carries a whiff percentage of 36.5. It does not have quite the same absurd run value as Miller's slider, but it sits above 100 mph and is certainly one of the most dominant pitches in baseball. It is especially wicked when it is thrown in a two-strike count, comes in at 104, and dots the outside corner. There is nothing any hitter on the planet is supposed to be able to do with that pitch, other than watch it go by for a strike or take a humiliatingly feeble cut and go sit down. Chourio got just enough of it to stay alive.

You know what really kills, though? Miller's slider, which might be the best pitch in the game. Miller throws it about half the time and nobody ever touches it. It had a 56 percent whiff rate in 2026 and batters had a .170 wOBA against it. It is a particularly nasty pitch to throw with two strikes. According to Statcast, Miller threw 195 sliders in two-strike counts this year, and batters chased them out of the zone 55 percent of the time. Miller spun a nasty one at Chourio. It started low and came in at 89 mph, and must have looked just like the fastball that Chourio had just fouled off to stay alive. It was the kind of pitch that demands a swing and a miss almost as a matter of course—Chourio had just been forced to protect the bottom of the zone against a fastball, so how could he resist the urge to do so again and not swing right over the top of this pitch as it dove through the bottom of the strike zone? Somehow he did, and got himself a 2-2 count to work with.

"Mistake" is probably too strong of a word to use for Miller's next pitch, but he elevated a fastball on the outer half of the plate that Chourio punched through the right side of the infield. It scored the game-winning run and put an end to one of the best high-leverage at-bats you will ever see. Fouling off 104 on the corner, spitting on the game's most deadly slider, having the bravery to swing four times—you never see a hitter exercise that much control over Miller. Chourio bent the at-bat and the game to his will, though, and was rewarded with one of the loudest stadium roars a baseball game has ever produced.

That's the kind of noise that can only be drawn from a crowd that has just witnessed what must have felt like a compounding series of miracles. It was a miracle to even get runners on base against Miller, it was another to get Chourio to the plate with two outs, and it was more miraculous still to see him win the at-bat and the game. Those are the moments that fans live to see and players live to produce; they come around so rarely that all anyone can be expected to do when one arrives is scream their head off.