The Padres didnât just lose 3â1.
They lost on a moment that felt like it belonged to another era.
Ninth inning. Full count. No outs. Xander Bogaerts staring down a fastball that dipped low. He took it. Started toward first base.
And then froze.

Home plate umpire D.J. Reyburn rung him up.
Strike three.
For Padres fans, it wasnât just a call. It was a collapse in slow motion.
The ESPN broadcast box showed the pitch clearly below the strike zone. Social media ignited instantly. The same question echoed everywhere: next year, with the ABS challenge system arriving in MLB, would this have been overturned?

The short answer?
Yes.
But the longer answer is what makes this moment unsettling.
On Baseball Savantâs generic strike zone model, the pitch barely grazes the bottom edge. It looks defensible. Cubs fans were quick to point to that red dot hugging the zoneâs lower boundary.

Proof, they argued.
Except it wasnât.
Because Keller wasnât pitching to a generic human. He was pitching to Bogaerts â 6-foot-2, taller than average, with a personalized strike zone that sits higher off the ground.

Under MLBâs upcoming ABS challenge calculations, the bottom of Bogaertsâ zone sits at roughly 1.665 feet at the midpoint of the plate. Kellerâs pitch crossed at approximately 1.492 feet.
Thatâs not borderline.
Thatâs low.
And it gets worse for the call.

Statcast measures the pitch at the front of the plate. But the ABS zone will evaluate at the midpoint â where gravity has already pulled the ball slightly lower.
In other words, the pitch would have dropped even further below the zone by the time ABS judged it.
Under next yearâs rules, Bogaerts walks.

The inning lives.
The season breathes.
Instead, the Padres walked off the field.
This is not just about one pitch. Itâs about baseball standing at the edge of technological transformation.
The strike zone has always been a living, breathing thing â shaped by umpire interpretation, catcher framing, and subtle negotiation between pitcher and plate. Itâs messy. Human. Emotional.
Carson Kellyâs glove movement on the pitch tells that story perfectly.
He set up low. Brushed the dirt. Received the pitch and subtly flowed the mitt upward into the zone. It wasnât theatrical. It wasnât dramatic.
But it was just enough.
Framing has long been baseballâs quiet art â smudging the edges of perception. Not tricking umpires into believing a ball was middle-middle, but nudging the gray area into black-and-white certainty.
Last night, that gray area swallowed San Diegoâs season.
And hereâs the uncomfortable truth: ABS wonât erase framing entirely. It wonât eliminate debate. It wonât stop players from staring at umpires in disbelief.
But it will remove moments like this from the postseason.
No more guesswork about broadcast graphics. No more arguing generic zones versus individualized ones. No more silence after a full-count walk that wasnât.
The Bogaerts strikeout now feels like a transitional relic â the final gasp of a system about to be replaced.
Some fans will mourn that loss of human element. Others will celebrate clarity.
But for the Padres, itâs harder to be philosophical.
Because if ABS had existed last night, the inning changes. The pressure shifts. The Cubs donât celebrate yet.
Baseballâs future is coming.
And one pitch below the zone may have just convinced an entire fanbase it canât arrive fast enough.
Leave a Reply