Everyone is watching Kade Anderson.
And why wouldnât they? The first glimpse of the 2025 draftâs headline arm stepping onto a professional mound during spring training was enough to ignite social media. He hasnât thrown a single official minor league inning, yet the confidence, the poise, the swagger against established big leaguers â it all feels like the beginning of something inevitable.
But inside the organization of the Seattle Mariners, there may be a quieter conversation happening.
Because Anderson might not be the most intriguing pitching story from that draft class.
That distinction could belong to Griffin Hugus â a third-round selection, 91st overall, whose college rĂŠsumĂŠ doesnât scream future ace. A 4.70 ERA. A 1.45 WHIP. Two seasons at Cincinnati before transferring to Miami. A late move from bullpen to rotation in 2025. On paper, nothing about the numbers demands headlines.
Which may be exactly why this feels different.
Scouts described Hugus as a âlow-hanging fruit dev project.â Well-built frame. Clean delivery. Arm slot that naturally creates fastball backspin and breaking-ball depth. Nothing electric â but nothing broken either. His fastball lives in the low 90s, occasionally mid-90s. His slider and curveball flash promise but need polish. His changeup exists, though he rarely leans on it.
Individually, the pitches donât overwhelm.
Together, they form something quietly intriguing.
And thatâs where Seattle enters the story.
The Mariners have built a reputation for turning overlooked draft arms into legitimate major league contributors. Later selections like Bryce Miller and Bryan Woo werenât supposed to headline rotations â until they did. Seattleâs pitching development system doesnât just refine mechanics; it reimagines arsenals. It redesigns pitch usage. It rewires approach.
So when evaluators suggest Hugusâ fastball approach may be in line for an overhaul, that doesnât sound like a flaw in Seattle. It sounds like opportunity.
Anderson is the spotlight. Hugus is the laboratory experiment.
The farm system is already crowded with promising starters. Anderson and Ryan Sloan dominate the future-rotation discussions. Yet the most fascinating thing about Hugus isnât what he is â itâs what he hasnât been yet.
He transitioned to starting full-time only in 2025, accounting for over 60% of his collegiate workload in just one season. That alone suggests thereâs untapped physical and developmental runway. He hasnât maxed out. He hasnât plateaued. He hasnât even had the chance to fully settle into a starterâs rhythm.
For an organization obsessed with optimizing spin rates, vertical approach angles, and pitch tunneling, that blank space is gold.
And hereâs the subtle tension: if Anderson fulfills expectations, heâll be celebrated as the obvious win of the draft. But if Hugus takes a developmental leap â if his fastball shape changes, if the slider sharpens, if the changeup becomes viable â then suddenly the narrative shifts.
Because third-round arms arenât supposed to become foundational pieces.
Yet in Seattle, that possibility doesnât feel far-fetched.
The Mariners continue stockpiling arms late into spring, creating an ecosystem where competition is constant and opportunity is earned. Not every prospect will reach the majors. Fewer still will matter when they do.
But sometimes the loudest name isnât the one that changes everything.
Sometimes itâs the pitcher with the forgettable stat line, the modest velocity, the understated scouting report â the one who arrives without hype and leaves with leverage.
Kade Anderson may be the face of the 2025 draft class.
But if Griffin Hugus evolves the way Seattle believes he can, the real story of this draft might not be who stole the spotlight â
It might be who developed in the shadows.
And if that happens, the question wonât be why the Mariners drafted him.
Itâll be why everyone else overlooked him.
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