Tyler Rogers looks like a joke when you look at his stats. The lowest velocity in the league. Strikeout percentages at rock bottom. His angle of attack is so negative it looks like he’s throwing⦠on the ground. In an era that glorifies speed and spin rate, everything about Rogers seems out of place.

But that’s the problem. And that’s why the Toronto Blue Jays paid $37 million for him.
Rogers wasn’t signed to be a “normal” reliever. He was brought in to disrupt the opponent’s habits, rhythm, and preparationāin a way that very few teams are still capable of doing in modern MLB.
At the most basic level, Rogers is an extreme groundball shooter. Over 61% of the balls in games before him last season were grounders, placing him in the top 2% of the league. The ball leaves the bat at an average velocity of just 85.8 mphāalmost none of the shots actually hit. Only five barrels in over 77 innings. Almost no walk. It gave almost no home run. And most importantly: it was incredibly difficult to prepare for.

Because no one else threw like Rogers.
His -61-degree arm angle wasn’t just the lowest in MLB ā it was so low it was a physical exception. The ball was released just over a foot off the ground. Hitters weren’t used to that trajectory. Trajekt machines couldn’t replicate it. And when what you’re about to face can’t be replicated in practice, the advantage always goes to the pitcher.

The Blue Jays understood this better than most other teams, having just experienced something similar with Trey Yesavage. A pitcher with the highest release point in the league, his arm angle was so steep it destroyed opponents’ eye level. Rogers did the opposite ā but with no less effect.
And this is where Toronto began to gain an āunseenā advantage.
If Rogers were used as a traditional relieverāthrowing in a clean inning, creating weak contact, trusting the defenseāthat would be a reasonable scenario. But the real potential lies in how he’s integrated.

Imagine: Yesavage has just left the mound after six innings, hitters are used to the ball falling from over 7 feet. Then Rogers steps out, throwing the ball from 1.3 feet. That’s a difference of nearly 6 feet in release pointāthe biggest a lineup can face in a single game. No scouting report adequately prepares for that transition.
It’s no coincidence that KikĆ© HernĆ”ndez once admitted that neither Yesavage nor āone of the Rogers brothersā can be simulated by training machines. When technology can’t keep up with reality, the team that possesses reality has the advantage.

Toronto could also utilize Rogers in damage control situations. Bases loaded, one out, need groundball more than strikeout. Leading with a lot of run, he needs to avoid big hits. Rogers doesn’t guarantee zero damage ā but he almost eliminates the worst-case scenario.
The important thing is: Rogers isn’t a gimmick regardless of the statistics. He’s a weapon precisely because of what the statistics can’t fully explain. In a league where everything is optimized, exceptions like Rogers become rare ā and dangerous.

Moneyball used to see pitchers like this as a market niche. Now, with every team following analytics, that niche is gone. Rogers isn’t cheap anymore. But he’s still rare.
And sometimes, the hardest thing to prepare for isn’t speed ā it’s the sheer difference.
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