Abner Uribe Went Looking for Consistency and Found Only Trouble

It has not been a good start to the season for Abner Uribe. In less than three weeks, he's gone from the guy the organization clearly wanted to fit for a closer's mantle to a less effective version of teammate Elvis Peguero. Last year, his arm was truly special. This year, it still looks strong, but in an ominously ordinary way.

The good news here is that nothing seems to have materially changed when it comes to Uribe's real superweapon, the sweeper or slider that lays waste to opposing hitters. There are 1,188 specific pitch types thrown by pitchers (i.e., Uribe's sinker, his sweeper, Freddy Peralta's four pitches, etc.) at least 20 times so far this season. Uribe's sweeper ranks 13th in Baseball Prospectus's cutting-edge StuffPro. It's a devastating breaking ball, especially because of how hard he throws when he's not throwing it.

The bad news, as one would guess about a reliever with a 7.50 ERA and uninspiring peripheral indicators around that figure, is most everything else. Uribe isn't missing bats. He's issuing too many walks. Hitters are making much harder contact. Here's why all of that is happening.

Uribe appears to have tried to pare down from two distinct fastballs (a four-seamer and a sinker) to one this year. If you're a regular here, that's not news. It's been the subject of a good piece by Jake McKibbin already this month, and Jack Stern and Spencer Michaelis had a good conversation about it on the nascent Brewer Fanatic Podcast. I come to you now only because I think I can add a little bit more to the conversation.

Firstly, we need to acknowledge something: Uribe's fastballs are not created equal, in any sense. His four-seamer lacked the kind of explosive rising action that typically makes such offerings dominant; that's why Jack took the position that its absence is mostly irrelevant, on the podcast. His sinker has more of the traditional action one associates with a pitch of its type, and more overall movement, so it does make sense for it to be his primary heater. It seems clear that, in pursuit of better command of his fastball, Uribe has tried to reduce the difficulty of that endeavor by halving the number of fastballs he's trying to throw. It's a common approach. It's easier to execute a pitch if that pitch doesn't have a cousin that interferes with your muscle memory.

Remember all those electrifying top-end velocities last year, though? Well, they didn't come on the sinker.

A recent article at BF sister site Twins Daily demonstrated that each added mile per hour on a fastball is worth about 0.2 runs per 100 pitches thrown. That sounds infinitesimal, but it's not, and not only because even a relief pitcher usually throws several hundred fastballs within a season. Velocity lends margin for error. Uribe's four-seamer worked anywhere from 1.0 to 1.5 miles per hour higher than his sinker last year, which means that the sinker needed to make up meaningful ground with its superior movement to really be more valuable. As Spencer said on the podcast, too, the four-seamer can be thrown at the top of the zone (even with lackluster rising action, at that speed, a high fastball wins), whereas Uribe's heavy sinker doesn't work there.

Aha! There's something. As Uribe has gone to shelve his four-seamer, he seems to have muddied the movement direction on his sinker. This is the reverse cannibalism alluded to at the top of this piece. Check out the direction of the spin Uribe imparted on his sinkers in 2023, compared to 2024.

Trying to get rid of the four-seamer but still attack the top of the zone at times (with a sinker that, unlike some others, just isn't well-suited to that) has been, predictably, a disaster. Uribe is leaving his heat right in the middle of the plate much too often, in no small part because he's not getting as much armside run on the offering.

In case you're not convinced that his arm is still missing his four-seamer while his brain tells it to huck sinkers, though, consider this, too. Uribe is achieving more consistent extension, but at the expense of those pitches with the greatest extension and the highest velocity last year. 

He's getting around the ball a bit--not cutting it, exactly, but staying too true behind it, rather than pronating the way the best version of his sinker requires. Uribe's horizontal release and approach angles show this. The ball isn't entering the zone moving sharply toward a right-handed batter; it's taking that backspin he's putting on it and holding its lane. That's why it's straying over the middle of the plate too often, and why it's so much more hittable.

Uribe doesn't necessarily need to bring back his four-seamer, although without it, he's a much lower-ceiling pitcher. Even with his great slider, a sinker-only profile makes him a better version of Peguero even at his best. The version who dominates on the same level as a Josh Hader or Devin Williams, and who allows the team to continue its dynasty of elite relievers in the National League, throws the four-seamer to enforce a change of eye levels and to enjoy the ancillary benefits of that extra tick of velocity.

If Uribe doesn't restore that pitch to its place in his arsenal, though, he can still be great. It will just require further training and mechanical work. He can't let the ghost of his four-seamer keep discoloring his sinkers. He needs the sinker and the slider to work in harmony, which means having better command of each and keeping the sinker looking like a sinker. He has to stop pulling it, and just let it go.