Matthew Trueblood

Image courtesy of © Mark Hoffman/Milwaukee Journal Sentinel / USA TODAY NETWORK via Imagn Images Brice Turang had a career night (or something like it) in just six innings Monday night. As the Brewers blew out the Giants, Turang departed early, but before doing so, he had a line-drive double, a long triple, and a pair of walks. If you watched the first six weeks of this season like a hawk and then were extremely busy for about three weeks, it probably felt like business as usual. Quietly, though, Turang went through a prolonged slump to end May. A good approach kept him viable—most hitters go through some slump during the season, and his .623 OPS during his is a lot better than most hitters' nadirs—but he stopped being the engine of the team's elite offense. Here, in a snapshot, is why—and why you could see his return to form coming, even before he snapped out of his funk Monday night. Remember last season, when Turang entered August with a .271/.339/.363 batting line, and then hit .321/.399/.580 the rest of the way? It happened because, at long last, he opened himself up to pulling the ball. The above is his rolling average for attack direction over 100-plate appearance samples. When he stopped being baseball's most extreme opposite-field hitter (not in terms of batted-ball distribution, but in terms of the angle of his barrel at his contact point on each swing), he suddenly became one of its most dangerous hitters. He maintained that terrifying blend of strike zone control, feel for contact and the ability to blast the ball well into this season, too. Then, as you can see via the highlighting above, he had a relapse. Turang got back to being, to put it one way, late. Unlike most players, he whiffs almost as frequently on fastballs as on other pitch types. The league's average contact point on balls in play is about 4 inches deeper in the hitting zone than the intercept point on whiffs, but Turang's intercept point is 2 inches farther in front of him on balls in play. In other words, when he whiffs, it's more often because he was late on the ball, compared to other players. Indeed, when he sagged back into being an extreme opposite-field guy with regard to attack direction, his contact rate fell. It coincides just about perfectly with the decline in his overall production. Ah, but go back to that first chart, and note the direction of the tail at the far right. Over the last week or so, Turang had trended back toward being square to the ball. He went 0-for the week against the Cardinals and Astros, but quietly, he was creeping back into his lost groove. On Monday, he found it again, even though both of his hits were to the opposite field. It's too early to say he's fixed, but the signs of a revival are here. Turang is a guy whose biggest upside comes when he gets forward more than is strictly comfortable; that capacity comes and goes a bit. Right now, though, he looks like he's on time, and another binge like what we saw for the first month-plus of the season could be at hand. View full article

No, I agree. Same page: he has been and should not be considered as in the same boat as those other flailers. Maybe the last distinction I would draw is that, as implied by the fact that they were willing to trade him, they weren't necessarily thinking of Durbin as their *everyday* 3B anyway. So when I'm saying he was expected to replace everything they were set to ask of Durbin, part of that is because I think they only ever envisioned giving Durbin 500 PAs this year, not 630 or something. Anyway.

First, they only signed Rengifo for $4 million; it's not like they plunged a ton into him. But second, go back to when they announced that deal. They were VERY focused on what he offered from the right side, specifically, against lefties. That wasn't an accident. They were always open to Hamilton being the long side of a pretty straightforward platoon (though the front office was more on board with that than Murphy, who doesn't like standard platoons much). If Ortiz had been better and claimed something closer to everyday duty at short, I think you'd have seen fewer PAs for Rengifo, not for Hamilton.

Agreed, though from a 26-man roster perspective and a maintenance of depth perspective (and, heck, from a developmental perspective!), the ideal move might be to retain Rengifo when Williams comes up and option Ortiz to Nashville, at which point Hamilton is pretty much the everyday SS for a while.

I hear you on that, to an extent, and have been making the case that he's materially better than Ortiz and should be playing every day (against righty starters) all year. But I will say, your characterization of what the Brewers expected from him doesn't match what the Brewers have said they expect from him at every single juncture since they brought him in. Over and over, from spring training through now, Pat Murphy has said he expects a big step forward and a major offensive impact from Hamilton. .300/.400/.500? Of course not, and not nearly. But they do think he can be a .270/.330/.390 guy. They see a LOT there; it's an important part of why they made that deal. He was meant more to replace Durbin than to replace Monasterio, if we want to boil it down to that level.

I think he drew the comparison because swing decisions are what the Brewers excel at developing, and one reason why Ortiz's struggles are so glaring is that he's failed to absorb their instruction. That Chourio is going through the same things is disappointing, because unlike Ortiz, he has superstar upside if he can just shore that up—and unlike Ortiz, he has another $75 million or so coming from the Brewers, guaranteed, and they can't get deals that big wrong. I don't think anyone begrudges you not watching every game. Baseball is a game meant to be absorbed and digested passively sometimes; one of my favorite things about it is that it goes on every day and can hum in the background of our lives, then be there when we have the free time for it. If you read back a bit, you'll find that you brought the tone to this somewhat rude level, not me (and certainly not Jake!). It feels like bad form to accuse Jake of making that comp just for clicks; he doesn't do that and I would edit the parallel out if I felt it wasn't earned. It's fine to come here and have conversations about the game on all kinds of levels! Just don't assume that we're ragebaiting people. And above all, don't *fall* for ragebait that wasn't laid to begin with!

I mean... he's NOT an All-Star. I fully agree he can, should, and probably will be one, very soon! But right now, he's a guy with a .721 OPS, continuing to take very inconsistent at-bats and some *really* ugly swings at times. I think anyone not noticing that much needs to, if not get a grip, at least watch a little more closely.

I wonder—this is testable, maybe we'll cover it at some point soon—whether guys coming off the hamate issue are better off shielded from same-handed matchups a while. Picking up the ball earlier lets you make up for a bit of lost bat speed by starting earlier, so you can get the bat head out there even with the diminished swing speed Jake noted. Also probably more comfortable for the player; I would guess getting jammed is extra uncomfortable for a bit as you return from this injury.

Image courtesy of © Michael McLoone-Imagn Images Abner Uribe is, in one reading of all this, just that loud person at the party who no longer has any desire to let some quiet tensions simmer. Maybe they actually challenge someone to step outside and take care of things, but more often, they say something they know will stir up what they feel has been allowed to settle and stagnate when it shouldn't. They don't throw fists; they throw down the proverbial gauntlet. A mess ensues, and everyone at the party ends up doing one form of cleanup or another. You just hope the air is actually clearer afterward. In this case, the match that lit the waiting fuse was fairly vulgar, like a drunken but unmistakable accusation of cheating or a carefully chosen, exceptionally rude bit of name-calling. He struck out Alec Burleson Tuesday night, and turned to the Cardinals dugout with relish. As gleefully as untold millions of 11-year-olds have done it over the last few decades, he gyrated his hips and elaborately, repeatedly chopped his crotch, inviting the Cardinals to suck it and (ironically) drawing a sharp intake of breath from just about everyone except the occupants of the visitors' dugout. The tea has spilled pretty freely since. Uribe removed subtext and shattered the fragile privacy of the diamond by doing what he did, so reporters have followed up doggedly ever since. In brief, here's what happened: The Cardinals suspected the Brewers of picking up a tip or a pitch grip from St. Louis starter Matthew Liberatore on Monday afternoon, and relaying the needed information to their batters via the hitting coaches in the dugout. No one has suggested to me, on or off the record, that the Brewers were using illegal sign-stealing, with any kind of technological assistance, but the league has cracked down this year on the practice of base coaches relaying intel to hitters, too. That's why base coaches have to stay in their boxes now, and the spirit of that rule is that non-players shouldn't use their advantageous angles to give information directly to the batter. If the Brewers were doing so, it's not a violation of a written rule, but it won't be taken kindly by opponents. Once that suspicion arose, Cardinals manager Oliver Marmol began staring daggers into the Brewers dugout throughout the game Monday. That, too, is considered gauche, if not outright aggressive. Brewers personnel saw him staring them down in a way they interpreted as both intrusive and threatening, and he gestured to his side and to his head as he yelled across at one juncture. Marmol admitted to this in the fallout after Uribe broke the seal, saying his message was, "Don't do it. Be smart. You're going to get someone hurt." During the Cardinals' batting practice on Tuesday, hitting coach Daniel Vogelbach and Marmol aired their respective grievances with one another. It caused a minor commotion, but no fracas or physicality came of it. Uribe saw some of the above first-hand, and heard some about it from teammates after the game Monday and before the game Tuesday. In his mind, the aggression toward the Cardinals after finishing the top of the eighth inning was a matter of showing them Milwaukee would not be intimidated or denigrated. If all of this sounds a bit petty or childish, it should; that's what it is. Uribe's demonstrations were inappropriate in their intensity and escalatory effect, but apropos in their immaturity. Every team is trying to pick up and relay information, at all times. It should very rarely lead to this kind of sudden surge in tension, and certainly didn't need to do so this time. That said, let's assess some of the claims on both sides. Were the Brewers Doing Something Wrong in the First Place? This is the hardest question to answer, really, because it depends a great deal on whom you ask. For a long time, players and teams felt that any intelligence that could be gleaned with naked eyes on the field or from the dugouts or bullpens was fair game, as long as it was relayed via organic means. The infamous trash can-banging Astros were regarded as doubly criminal, because the way they got their information broke the first part of the unwritten rules, and the way they got that information from the tunnel behind the dugout to the field broke the second part. For most of baseball history, though, what the Cardinals accused the Brewers of doing this week would not have been considered a breach. As discussed above, the league changed an actual rule (or, rather, its enforcement) recently, to try to curb on-field collection and relaying of tips and tells. That's partially because, in the wake of the revelations about the Astros, the league's collective attitude toward intelligence gathering and communication shifted. Ironically, the Cardinals—an organization with a reputation for extreme old-fashionedness—took umbrage with the Brewers because they have a very new-school understanding of what's ok when it comes to picking up information from the other side. Two players, a coach and two front-office employees from other organizations acknowledged that the Brewers have a reputation for drawing a bead on you, often via the acuity of non-players. They get that information to the field, the sources said, via direct conversations between players and coaches both on the field and in the dugout, but also via surreptitious signaling. No one I spoke to said they believe the Brewers are doing anything explicitly against the rules or egregious, but one former Brewer now playing for another team admitted that his new teammates asked him some probing questions about Milwaukee's methods at the beginning of spring training. Crucially, Marmol didn't accuse the Brewers of doing anything truly wrong—and teams are often trying to enforce something other than actual rules when they engage in the kind of behavior Marmol did Monday. That brings us to the next question. Was Marmol Really Threatening to Hit Brewers Batters with Pitches? This one, by contrast, is easy. Yes. Yes, of course he was, and this is one of the silliest layers of unwritten rules and their passive-aggressive enforcement. Marmol explained to reporters exactly what he communicated to the Brewers on Monday, as detailed above. He said that wasn't a threat to hit anyone, but a simple matter of telling them to knock it off. Well, that's stupid, and anyone really listening and unwilling to put up with microaggressions will see why. "Be smart," Marmol told the home side, pointing to his head. "You're going to get someone hurt," he said, pointing to his side. He wasn't implying that Christian Yelich was going to strain an oblique turning to peak at whatever sign Vogelbach might have been sending him. The gesture to the side is a threat to hit a batter if the other team doesn't stop the behavior they're being told to stop. Marmol refused to characterize it that way, but in doing so, he was either insulting the intelligence of the whole baseball world or (more like) asking everyone to play along with him. Moreover, doing so is a bit of old-school intimidation in the service of Marmol's aforementioned new-school ethics about the game and its balance of intelligence and counterintelligence. For the lion's share of baseball history, a threat (veiled or otherwise) to plunk someone for being in violation of the unwritten rules has been considered in-bounds, but that's going the way of the complete game. Teams very rarely throw at anyone on purpose anymore, and the intimation of an intention to do so is no longer considered light fare between friends. So: Was Marmol Wrong, and If So, for What? Ask many baseball people about this aspect of Marmol's tenure with the Cardinals, and you get quick, decisive answers. The Cardinals' skipper is not well-liked inside any other dugout in the league. In most of them, he's one of the most aggressively disliked. Implying that the team would throw at a Brewers batter might not have been over the line for everyone, and Marmol said he's never actually ordered any such action. However, players, coaches and one former opposing manager all confirmed that Marmol is often guilty of staring into the opposing dugout, looking for a reason to get upset or to raise the temperature of the conflict on the field. Even those who guard information dearly and don't want to let a rival get an advantage without feeling some pushback often try not to introduce the distraction of these often subtle but distracting bouts of back-and-forth. Marmol, one ex-Cardinal who spoke only on condition of anonymity because of their new role with another organization, "seems to love that s---," and tries to motivate his team by raising the emotional stakes that way. Few people in modern dugouts take well to the threat gestures Marmol made, but his eyes can be as much of a problem as his hands and mouth. In the opinion of most people outside this particular conflict, Marmol effectively started it, by hunting for something to which to react and (arguably) overreacting when he found it. To return to the metaphor of a late-night house party, Marmol is the guy who actually wants to fight way too often, even if he has the restraint and the cooler-headed friends to prevent that from happening most of the time. Vogelbach might have actually committed a party foul, or Marmol might have only imagined he did, but either way, the party took on an uneasy edge after the two had their say and went back to their sides of the room. Uribe, who emotes freely, loves antagonism just as much as Marmol, and didn't care for the vibe shift on his side of the party after the initial dustup, decided he would put things right by doing a foolish stunt to assert his side's dominance. It didn't work as well as he might have envisioned, in that plenty of people on his own side found his tactics distasteful. It will surely draw a fine from Major League Baseball, as well it should, and the Cardinals will skate without any tangible punishment. But it was just ridiculous enough to take some of that serrations off the whole thing. Wednesday's series finale was a taut game, but not an overly tense one, and the teams both say they've put the matter to bed. As a visual communicator, Uribe is to be commended for his layered (though not nuanced) messaging, as well as his clarity. He asserted dominance. He stood up for his teammates. He also said, without words, "Here's a sign everyone will see, so we can all be clear about what we're being clear about." Of course, he also has to be castigated for a gesture that holds within it some implied homophobia, sexism and wanton malice, as well as being stupid-looking. This was an interesting glimpse into the things often going on beneath the radar for the average fan, but the most important takeaways from it are that the Brewers are clearly in the heads of all their NL Central rivals; that the Cardinals and their skipper were looking for a fight when one wasn't really there to be had; and that Uribe can always be counted on to dispense with subtlety. Going forward, the Crew will hope he focuses on dispensing with batters, instead. View full article

Image courtesy of © Jeff Hanisch-Imagn Images When Shohei Ohtani took off for second base Friday night, it was hard to like William Contreras's chances. Ohtani has proved to be a very efficient basestealer, and he's very fast. On the mound, rookie Logan Henderson was focused on executing a good pitch, and wasn't very quick to the plate. Given Ohtani's speed and his jump by the time Contreras caught the ball, Statcast estimated that the Brewers' catcher had just an 18% chance to gun down the reigning two-time National League MVP. Then he did it. MTZOYlZfWGw0TUFRPT1fQndJSFhRRUZYd0lBQzFFRVZ3QUhBVk5mQUZnTlZWSUFCZ05VVlFaWEJnZGNCVlJW.mp4 Contreras's throw was slightly high, but Ohtani saw the reach of Joey Ortiz's glove and pulled his own hand down to protect it from the ball, slowing him down a bit as he slid into second. Ortiz had time to snatch the throw and sweep the tag downward, and although Ohtani was initially called safe, that call would be overturned on review. This has become a common sight this season: a runner goes, and they seem to have a good jump and an easy steal before them. Contreras flips the script. For a player who's always been known as a dynamic athlete for a catcher, this aspect of his game took a long time to develop. It's in full bloom now, though. In fact, it's the best in baseball. When Contreras first came to Milwaukee, he had a strong arm, but no good ideas about how to use it. His footwork was too slow. Relatively quickly, under the guidance of the Brewers' vaunted corps of catching instructors, he improved in that regard, but two years ago, his accuracy consistently did him in. He was getting rid of the ball pretty fast, but not putting his throws where they needed to be. That, too, has now been fixed. NnlNcWRfWGw0TUFRPT1fQTFRREFRVlhBZ29BWFFNREJ3QUhBUU1EQUFBTUFGUUFDMUFGQWxVSEJRQUFVMUFG.mp4 As manager Pat Murphy loves to remind folks, this is the very model of a modern throw to second base. The way it requires Ortiz to move as he receives it almost makes the ball look off-target, but in reality, this is where every team wants their catchers throwing on steal attempts. The infielder should set up right above the bag, to give the catcher a good target, but the throw should take them to the first-base side of second. That optimizes the chances of a tag before the runner slides into the base. Contreras has gotten very good at that. In fact, though, he's simply gotten good at everything involved in the throws to nail runners from behind home. His exchange from glove to hand is much smoother than in the past; he doesn't pause or hitch to reorient the seams as he gets into a throwing position. Two years ago, I wrote about Contreras needing the pitch to come to the first-base side of the plate in order to get set well and make a strong throw; it was part of his broader accuracy issues. By last season, he had fixed that problem, and now he thrives on throws from that side of the plate. This year, the improvement has come from slightly better awareness—he always seems ready, and isn't geting caught unprepared or poorly positioned on any steal attempts—and from that quicker exchange. It helps that his hands work better than they did a year ago. Here's a side-by-side look at one play from 2025 and one from this month, right as Contreras's front foot (the left) touches the dirt for the first time as he sets to throw. Look how much more in position to fire he is this year. However, he's also doing something important with his lower half. Here are two fastballs up, on which the runner tried to steal. This is the last frame before Contreras caught each pitch. He's geting up out of his crouch well as he receives the ball, whenever he's able. He was doing that last year, too, though. In fact, though this wasn't one of those times, last year, Contreras often used what catchers call the "cheat stance," whereby he would pop up from one knee down to a standard crouch as the pitcher began his delivery, getting into throwing motion before the ball even got on its way to him. The key difference in the images above is that, this year, Contreras is turning his body better. As he comes out of his kneeling stance, he's not squaring up to the ball, which he often did last year and which forced him to turn his shoulders more as he made the transfer from glove to hand. Now, by changing the set of his hips and the angle at which he pushes upward with his legs, he's getting his chest facing toward first base earlier, setting him up for an easier transfer and throw. WERaME5fWGw0TUFRPT1fQkFVQUJsRUVBMVFBRHdGWEF3QUhWRkJRQUZrRFVWVUFCd1lCQVF0VVZBRlZWZ2RT.mp4 Officially, runners are 12-for-26 stealing bases against Contreras, according to Baseball Reference. That gives him credit for a few times caught stealing that were actually pickoffs by the pitchers and infielders, but it also gives runners credit for a couple of steals that were utterly indefensible from Contreras's perspective. When he's had any kind of chance at all, he's been phenomenal. According to Baseball Savant, he's already been worth 4 Catcher Stealing Runs this year. If he keeps up at this pace, he'll become the new record holder in that stat—though, admittedly, it's only been tracked since 2016. No catcher with at least 10 attempts against them has ever dealt with faster average runners in a season than Contreras has had to deal with so far, at 29.2 feet per second. Runners are getting better jumps against Brewers pitchers this year than at any time in Contreras's tenure with the team. None of it matters. He's become the best possible form of himself as a thrower and running-game stopper, and arguably the best catcher in the sport at that skill. For the Brewers, it's just one more developmental win involving a player whom they've systematically unlocked over almost half a decade, now. View full article

Great work. Close enough to right, at the very least. What a beast this guy is, if it's now essentially two different breaking balls and two different heaters.