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This story is featured in the August issue of Sports Illustrated.
The shape of water.
The swirl of an artists paintbrush.
The finely woven tapestry of words in a poem.
The 104 mph fastball from Jacob Misiorowski.
The purest form of power comes not from exertion but the seeming absence of it.
No starting pitcher in the 133 years since the distance between the pitching rubber and the tip of home plate was set at 60 feet, six inches has shortened that distance more than Misiorowski, the 24-year-old spaghetti strand of a pitcher for the Milwaukee Brewers.
At a lanky 6' 7", with a long stride and a low release point, Misiorowski lets go of the baseball 7 1/2 feet in front of the rubber at 2,611 rpms (faster spin than all but one other starting pitcher this season and about the same as your car engine as you exceed the highway speed limit) and at velocities never seen from a starter in recorded history.
Distance is time, and hitters have never had less of it to react than they do when Misiorowski is pitching.
He is a da Vinci flying machine, the embodiment of the physics of propulsion as nearly perfect as has been measured on a baseball field.
Its like he was built in a lab, says fellow Brewers starter Brandon Woodruff.
Only Misiorowski knows what it feels like to have a baseball come out of your hand at 104.5 mph 7 1/2 feet in front of the rubber.
To hear him describe the sensation is to hear the echoes of ancient Taoist philosophers who spoke of wu wei, the concept that roughly translates literally into not doing and philosophically into effortless action.
The baseball slips from his hand like water over river rocks.
The best way to describe it is easy, Misiorowski says.
I think its just plain and simple.
Its just ..
it feels easy.
And it feels like everything is just lining up and just kind of coming out.
I mean, I dont really throw max effort.
Every pitch is like 85, 90%.
Like, theres always a little bit more I can grab.
It just feels effortless.
Its just trying to keep that same thought of staying whippy and just put it where I want.
And where is that? Throw it down the middle and pray, he says.
Im literally just thinking about throwing every pitch down the middle.
If they hit it, they hit it.
Theres not much to figure out.
Thats my thing.
Thats what Im doing.
The performance of The Miz is as singular as the physics.
Starting May 1, Misiorowski posted the greatest eight-start span in baseball history (openers excluded) as measured by ERA, which was adopted in 1912: one earned run over 54 1/3 innings for a 0.17 ERA.
The eighth of those outings was one of the most dominant games ever pitched.
On June 12 in Milwaukee against the Phillies, he became the first pitcher to face the minimum 27 batters in a complete game with 15 strikeouts and one hit allowed.
He did it with just 95 pitches, 69 of which were fastballs.
The Phillies were 0 for 17 against his fastball, missing it 23 of the 40 times they tried to hit it.
Their only hit was a single by Kyle Schwarber on a low slider.
The next day Schwarber sought out Brewers hitting coach Daniel Vogelbach.
Tell Miz, Schwarber said, thanks for throwing me the breaking ball.
In the ninth inning, Misiorowski averaged 102.6 mph with his fastball, including a 103.1 mph Bell X-1 of a rocket past Justin Crawford for the last out.
No starting pitcher in recorded history ever had a higher average velocity in the ninth inning.
That night, Phillies pitcher Aaron Nola texted Woodruff.
Miz is going to wind up getting us in trouble, Nola wrote.
Hell have them move the mound back.
Woodruff had enjoyed the night as much as anyone.
Like Misiorowski, he is a fastball-first, country-hardball pitcher.
As the only veteran in the Milwaukee rotation, he has become his mentor and close friend.
Im seeing this all unfold and its like a proud uncle or father moment, says Woodruff, 33, because I see the work in between and just see him go out and attack.
But Nolas text gave Woodruff a moment of pause.
You know what? I never thought about that.
Youre exactly right.
He could be the reason the mound gets moved back.
Says Woodruff, He truly could because his extension is out of this world.
Im still trying to hang on here for however long Im going to throw, and I dont need him to ruin it.
Its too soon to know if Misiorowski could change the very dimensions of the game the way George Mikan and Wilt Chamberlain did the NBA lane or Tiger Woods did to golf course yardages.
That Nola, a 12-year veteran, would be so moved by his dominance to even suggest it is astonishingbut not as astonishing as The Miz himself.
The pitcher who is bending the once-immutable physics of baseball is a late bloomer who was passed in the draft by every team at least twice, is built like Ichabod Crane, has the impish charm of Tom Sawyer, presents such naivete that his manager calls him Forrest Gump, recently got engaged to his longtime girlfriend, and spends much of his free time collecting Pokemon and baseball cards.
Hes an interesting cat, man, Woodruff says.
Hes a beautiful person.
Hes happy all the time.
When he shows up at the yard you dont see a guy whos stressing about his next outing.
You see a guy whos over there watching Pokemon videos and then he just goes out and destroys you with 104.
I remind him every day: Dude, youve got an absolute superpower.
Were starting to see that.
And its wildly impressive.
Welcomed southerly winds pushed the late winter temperature in Manhattan toward 40 on March 7, 1893, as National League owners, players and managers in their suits and starched white collar shirts made their way to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, a posh five-story monument to luxury resplendent with its imported white marble facade and featuring the first passenger hotel elevator in America, or vertical screw railway as Otis Tufts called his creation.
It was here previously that colleges codified their rules for football, the U.S.
Tennis Association was established and Republicans in smoke-filled rooms blessed deals (or not) with such frequency one wing was known as Amen Corner.
On this day the baseball men piled into Parlor F to hear a recommendation from the Rules Committee, comprised of John Brush of Cincinnati, the chairman with the beak-like nose; Charlie Byrne of Brooklyn, giving away nothing behind his push-broom mustache; and Harry Von der Horst, the Baltimore beer baron in the Van Dyke.
The men called for the pitching distance to be moved back for the third time in 12 years.
It went from 45 to 50 feet in 1881, to 55 feet, six inches in 1887 and now, they recommended, it should move to 60 feet, six inches.
The rule change passed because owners feared pitching had become too good.
In an editorial that echoed prevailing sentiment, the New York Sun opined: The evolution of the pitcher, who after inconceivable delays, tortures, circumspections, witchcraft, and damphoolery multitudinous, finally delivered a ball seen principally by an umpire, has destroyed the gayety of the [fans].
In baseball, people want motion, not rest.
If setting the pitcher back will contribute to the poetry of the motion, back let him go.
He cant go too far back.
The pitcher has asserted himself too much.
Sixty feet, six inches is not a sacred founding principle of baseball.
It only seems that way because it has remained unchanged since that Tuesday afternoon in Parlor F in 1893.
The independent Atlantic League, under a partnership with MLB, did experiment in 2021 with moving the mound back one foot.
It was dropped the next year, the same year the Brewers sweated through 62 picks before they drafted a hard-throwing, if scattershot, beanpole from Crowder College in Missouri who struck out 16 batters every nine innings but also walked five per nine.
I think we were holding our breath with the hope that he would get there, says Milwaukee president of baseball operations Matt Arnold.
I heard there were teams right behind us that were on him.
But there were a lot of people who thought he was a reliever.
There were some risks in his profile, but our guys really stuck their necks out on this one.
Drew Anderson, an area scouting supervisor, and Randy Bandelow, an area scout, had seen Misiorowski improve over the years and knew more was in store.
As a 165-pound Grain Valley (Mo.) High pitcher who threw 9195 mph and, by his own admission, might hit six or seven batters in a game, Misiorowski went undrafted before enrolling at Crowder.
By the fall of 2020 he was 190 pounds and hitting 98 mph.
At the 2022 Junior College World Series, he hit 100 mph for the first time.
The scoreboard in the outfield doesnt have triple digits, he says.
It just popped up 00.
You questioned if it was just an error.
And then the whole dugout is freaking out because they heard from the scouts in the stands that it was 100.
So, it was fun.
As a junior college pitcher who had trouble throwing strikes, and with a commitment to LSU, where he would have joined Paul Skenes on the roster, Misiorowski was seen by some clubs as a draft risk.
Finally, midway through the second round, a team called his agent and indicated it was prepared to take him.
All of a sudden, that fell through, says Misiorowski, who declined to name the team.
The Brewers called next.
A handful of picks remained before their turn.
A Milwaukee official told Misiorowski, Hey, dont pick up the phone if anybody else calls.
He lasted until the Brewers pick.
To keep him from going to LSU, Milwaukee signed him for $2.35 million, $1,218,500 above slot.
To afford such an overpay, the team signed its first-rounder and its next seven picks after Misiorowski all under slot.
Two years later, while pitching for Triple A Nashville, Misiorowski was in Norfolk, tired and wet from a rain-soaked trip, when his phone rang.
He didnt recognize the number and he declined to answer it.
The phone buzzed again.
Same number.
He declined again.
Upon the third call, he saw the caller left a voicemail.
He hit play.
This is Rick Sweet, the caller said.
It was his manager.
Pick up the damn phone! I was like, Oh, s----, Misiorowski says.
And so I called him back.
Sweet told him he was going to the big leagues.
In his first calendar year there, covering 29 games and 28 starts, Misiorowski struck out 218 batters in 153 innings.
His rate of 12.8 strikeouts per nine innings is the greatest in history through 29 games for a full-time starting pitcher, eclipsing the 12.3 rate of Kerry Wood.
Misiorowskis growth in velocity, command and body control continues.
Last season, for instance, he endured a five-start stretch with a 7.71 ERA.
Coming up last year I was thinking, Hey, I need to hit corners, he says.
I got bounced around for that month, two months, whatever it was.
And I kind of realized, I need to stop overthinking.
That was when I was just like, Lets simplify it.
Lets make everything simple, not big thoughts.
Says Woodruff, I was trying to kick into his brain last year, Dude, you dont realize what a superpower you have.
And its effortless for you.
If you want to look at somebody as a role model, go watch Jacob deGrom.
When he was in his 100102 range, he throws it to one spot.
And he throws just two pitches.
I said, If you can get to the point where you can command your heater, the world is absolutely yours.
You can do whatever you want.
I swear to you, buddy, if I had your stuff I might use less than 5% breaking balls.
Make these guys beat you, and never, ever let up.
Your extension, your spin, your velocity ..
all this stuff youve got going for you is too overpowering.
Misiorowski went home after the season and hit the gym.
He added nearly 30 pounds, almost all of it in his lower half.
Being lanky, Woodruff says, that was kind of his fault in the past: He ran out of gas.
That was what he worked on his offseason, getting his legs in shape.
All credit to him.
Says Brewers manager Pat Murphy, Hes got great strength in his lower half now, which stabilized him for his delivery.
And he can self-correct his delivery now if he loses focus.
On June 6 at Colorado, for instance, Misiorowski lost focus with a 51 lead with one out in the seventh inning.
He walked one batter and gave up a hit to the next.
Murphy stared daggers at him, ready to take him out.
Misiorowski stared back and mouthed, No! Murphy yelled back, Then f---ing kick it in! Misiorowski punched out the next two batters on seven pitches.
One day in June, Misiorowski was throwing a bullpen session when he stopped to ask one of the Brewers analysts, How many pitches have I thrown? The analyst, armed with pitch metrics on a tablet, began giving him spin rates and spin axis data.
Misiorowski cut him off.
I dont give a s--- about the metrics, The Miz said.
I just want to know how many pitches.
Woodruff, who was standing nearby, says, A tear almost dropped down from my face when I heard him say that.
Because analytics are a big part of our game now and there are a lot of decisions being made off it.
But man, when you get between the lines, when you hear the pitch called, its all about executing the pitch.
And I think that is what he is mainly focused on.
It is the beautiful irony of The Miz.
He is an analytics darling, with his extension, spin rate and velocity.
He is the science of throwing elevated to its highest form.
And yet he wants none of the modern information that turns many young pitchers into lab clinicians who talk more about process than competing.
Zero, he says.
None of it.
I hate it.
Why? I dont want any information.
Why? My brain moves so quick.
And if I have that stuff moving around in it, Im overthinking.
Oh, that pitch wasnt XYZ.
Im only worried about what the hitters reaction to my pitch is.
All that information is for someone else to help me later down the road.
I want absolutely none of that information.
I want to go out there and throw.
No one has ever thrown a baseball like Misiorowski.
With his length and flexibility, he moves through the air like Michael Phelps through water.
The numbers prove it.
The most telling of the measurements is perceived velocity, which accounts not just for raw velocity but also the distance the pitch travels.
The less distance the ball travels, the faster it appears to the hitter.
Because Misiorowski lets the ball go 13 inches closer to the plate than the average pitcher, his average fastball velocity of 100.2 mph translates to an unprecedented perceived velocity of 102.5.
Since pitch tracking began in 2008, no other starting pitcher has averaged a perceived velocity greater than the 100.3 mph by deGrom in 2021.
The Miz shortens time and distance like nothing ever seen.
It is simple beauty.
There is no damphoolery.
I dont think I ever have seen anything like it, says Phillies manager Don Mattingly.
I dont know who Id compare him to.
[Larry] Bowa was talking about J.R.
Richard in his time and Nolan [Ryan] when he was young.
I think Randy Johnson is probably in that category when he was in the middle of his extreme dominance with his fastball.
Says Murphy, You see the reaction of Schwarber [in the June 12 game] and one from Vlad [Guerrero Jr.] earlier [this season].
Their eyes get big and its like, You gotta be [kidding] me.
How am I gonna hit that? By mid-June Misiorowski had hit 103 mph or higher 49 times this year.
The rest of baseball had combined to do it 11 times.
He struck out Schwarber on a fastball clocked at 104.5 mph, the fastest pitch ever recorded from a starting pitcher.
And yet, The Miz says, there is more in him.
Yeah, of course, he says.
Theres always the thought of how far could I push this? But Im happy with where Im at and the fact that its working.
Says Woodruff, He keeps saying hes got more in the tank.
Ive seen him with his shirt off and Im like, I dont know how much more youve got in there ..
but maybe you do.
The traditional symbol of wu wei is water.
It has no fixed natural shape and can be considered submissive and weak, but with ease of movement it is powerful enough to gouge canyons out of rock.
The traditional sporting translation of such a state, appropriately, is called flow.
Misiorowski may achieve this state most obviously when, with ease of body and mind, he sends a baseball and its seams ripping violently through the air at 104 mph.
He is, however, also in this state of effortless action even when the baseball is not in his hands.
He surfs hobby shops to complement his shadowless Charizard or first-edition Neo Genesis Lugia (I could buy a pretty good truck with it, he says of its value) or the four first-edition color printing plates from his Bowman rookie card or the baseball cards of superstars he sends over to the visiting clubhouse manager at American Family Field in Milwaukee to get autographed.
Innocence.
Naivete.
Even, Woodruff says, gullibility.
I dont want this to sound bad, Woodruff says.
Its not that he doesnt care about baseball.
He cares about what he does.
But off the field, he does a good job not thinking about baseball, if that makes sense.
Hes still a kid.
Hes happy all the time, he comes to the field, goes in and foam rolls and comes out and throws 104.
Its a really cool thing.
Murphy calls him Forrest Gump in part because Misiorowski loves to run each day, the way old-school pitchers did.
But the name fits mostly, the manager says, because of his ability to break through and be brilliant, to do it his way.
There is some naivete in there.
Its just his ..
joy.
Its simple.
A great person who knows his place.
Theres no sales in him.
No sales at all.
On the night Misiorowski blew away the Phillies, Murphy watched as the kid left the ballpark.
It was late that night in the service tunnel outside the Brewers clubhouse.
Misiorowski left hand in hand with his fiance, Elle, accompanied by her parents and his mother, Crystal, who sees many of his games and who that morning, on a whim, drove eight hours from the Kansas City area to catch this historic one.
His father, Tom, was diagnosed with early-onset Parkinsons disease when Jacob was a boy.
Theyre all very close, Murphy says.
To see every day he leaves with his whole family, its just a beautiful thing.
It is the wonderful paradox of trying not to try.
The state of flow.
It is found not just in the ease of throwing a baseball wickedly fast.
But here, hand in hand, surrounded by love.
This, too, is the Tao of The Miz.
More MLB from Sports Illustrated Tom Verducci is a senior writer for Sports Illustrated who has covered Major League Baseball since 1981.
He also serves as an analyst for FOX Sports and the MLB Network; is a New York Times best-selling author; and cohosts The Book of Joe podcast with Joe Maddon.
A five-time Emmy Award winner across three categories (studio analyst, reporter, short form writing) and nominated in a fourth (game analyst), he is a three-time National Sportswriter of the Year winner, two-time National Magazine Award finalist, and a Penn State Distinguished Alumnus Award recipient.
Verducci is a member of the National Sports Media Hall of Fame, Baseball Writers Association of America (including past New York chapter chairman) and a Baseball Hall of Fame voter since 1993.
He also is the only writer to be a game analyst for World Series telecasts.
He lives in New Jersey with his wife, with whom he has two children.