Some players lose a World Series and immediately start talking about revenge. About workouts. About motivation. About coming back louder.
World Series – Toronto Blue Jays v Los Angeles Dodgers – Game Five | Luke Hales/GettyImages
Trey Yesavage did the opposite.
He went quiet.
And the way he described it is the kind of detail that sticks in your head longer than it should.
Getting to the big leagues just over a year after being drafted is rare. Making your MLB debut in September is rare.
Making a World Series roster weeks later — and pitching meaningful innings in October — almost doesn’t happen. But in 2025, Yesavage did it anyway, riding a storybook rise straight into baseball’s biggest stage.
And then the ending hit like a cold wall.
The Toronto Blue Jays’ Game 7 loss in the World Series to the Los Angeles Dodgers wasn’t just a defeat. It was one of those moments that lingers — the kind that doesn’t leave you when the cameras shut off, the clubhouse empties, and everyone is expected to “move on.”
Yesavage isn’t pretending he has.
But what he did next might be the most revealing part of his entire offseason.
Speaking to reporters on Jan. 28, Yesavage explained how he dealt with the heartbreak. And instead of giving the polished athlete answer, he said something raw, almost uncomfortable in its honesty:
“I spent a lot of time out in the woods hunting and just trying to be with myself and kind of disappear a little bit.”
Disappear.
Not reset. Not recharge. Not “take a breath.”
Disappear.
That single word makes it feel less like a vacation and more like an emotional emergency exit. Like the kind of response you don’t choose unless the noise in your head is louder than anything around you.
Yesavage admitted the ending was “heartbreaking for everybody in that clubhouse” because everyone worked so hard to get there.
Then he added something that sounds inspiring on paper — but carries weight when you picture the scene:
“But we’ll be better for it next season.”
It’s a confident line. It’s also the kind of line players say when they’re trying to convince themselves first.
And that’s what makes this story hit differently.
Yesavage is only 22 years old. He has less than a full month of regular-season experience. He’s still showing up on top prospect lists. He’s eligible for the American League Rookie of the Year award this season. He’s not supposed to be “the guy” yet.
But October has a way of skipping steps.
Suddenly, he’s not just a young arm with upside. He’s a pitcher who already knows what it feels like to be inches away from the ultimate ending — and still walk away empty-handed.
That changes you.
It also changes expectations.
Yesavage openly acknowledged how unprepared he is for the grind that’s coming, saying he has “two weeks of service time plus the playoffs,” meaning he hasn’t experienced a full MLB season.
Yet, he’s excited for it — and aware of how difficult it’ll be to manage his workload after the shortest offseason of his life.
“I had the most workload this year and it’s the shortest off-season I’ve ever had,” he explained, adding that he needed to navigate taking time off before ramping back up for spring training.
That “ramping it up” isn’t just physical. It’s mental. Because now he’s carrying two things into 2026 at once: the pressure of being Toronto’s next breakout, and the quiet trauma of a Game 7 that didn’t go their way.
Statistically, his brief regular season was a strong preview: 14 innings, 16 strikeouts, five earned runs. But the playoffs are where his profile truly changed.
In six postseason games — five starts — he threw 27.2 innings, struck out 39, and posted a 3.58 ERA with a 1.048 WHIP.
He didn’t just survive October.
He showed up.
And that’s why projections for 2026 are already treating him like a real piece of the Blue Jays’ machine. FanGraphs projects 130 innings, 24 starts, plus 10 bullpen appearances.
They expect his strikeout rate to dip from 10.29 K/9 to 9.77, but foresee improvements in his walk rate and the bad luck numbers leveling out.
In other words: the numbers say he’s going to be fine.
But baseball seasons aren’t lived on spreadsheets.
They’re lived in the quiet moments — the ones nobody tweets about.
And when a 22-year-old rookie says he had to disappear into the woods after losing the World Series… it raises the kind of question that doesn’t go away easily:
Was that just recovery… or the first sign of how heavy this season is about to feel? ⚡
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