Devin Williams Will Throw the Ball When He's Good and Ready

Devin Williams will not be hurried. In the early going, he's in the 11th percentile of the league for pitcher pace. He's only had one ball assessed via pitch timer violation, but he flirts with it often. Notably, he came breathtakingly close to one a couple of times during his high-stress save against the Padres on Sunday.

By every indication, though, he's unconcerned about it. He leaves the fretting over those seconds in which the timer approaches zero to others. He's using his full allotment of time, both to prepare his mind and body to execute the next pitch, and to make baserunners and batters nonplussed.

In his book Music is History, Questlove wrote the following operational definition of "cool" in music: "Cool is staying just enough behind the beat to make an intelligent decision, without sweating the fact that you're slowing the pace for your own benefit." That's exactly what Williams is doing. Before this season, the game didn't have an urgent pace when a hurler like Williams entered. It often slowed way down, and both sides tended to be fine with that.

Now, there are constraints on the work each side needs to do between pitches. The calling of pitches, the mental battles with opponents, and the physical recovery required to be ready for the next pitch all have to happen within 15 (if no one is on base) or 20 seconds. That could, in theory, make everyone rush to avoid the embarrassment and non-negotiable penalty of a timer violation. It applies a certain amount of pressure, to those who choose to see it that way. Williams rejects that pressure.

So far, it's working gorgeously. In six innings of work, he's allowed only six baserunners, and he's fanned 11 batters. He's giving himself more time and more control over things by using the full clock, and if anyone else is worried about falling behind, that's their own problem. It will be interesting to see whether he adjusts, as the season rolls on, and occasionally speeds up his pace to throw hitters off.

In the meantime, though, his appearances feel almost like an oasis of pre-timer baseball--in a good way. The timer is still there, ensuring that things don't grind to a stop the way they sometimes have over the last 15 years or so. The drama is occasionally heightened by the clock nearing zero. Williams seems effortlessly aware of it, though, and is only using the clock to guide and direct his preparation to unleash yet another pitch against which hitters will look helpless.