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The Giants are pitching Logan Webb for the whole enchilada tonight against the Dodgers, and without knowing the ending of that story as we type it, let’s shift our attention to the fact that…well, that the Giants are pitching Logan Webb for the whole enchilada against the Dodgers tonight.
Webb is a revelation. You’ll probably hear that said during the broadcast. Or perhaps you’ll hear that he came out of nowhere, or that or that he is the surprise star of a surprise season in San Francisco. I wouldn’t disagree with any of that, except for the parts about “revelation,” “surprise” and “out of nowhere.” In reality, this is the story of a pitcher who stayed with an organization and an organization that stayed with a pitcher. That fact is so, so much weightier than it might appear.
Put it another way: Logan Webb was selected by the Giants in the fourth round of the 2014 MLB Draft, pick number 118 overall. That was, let’s see here, I was told there’d be no math…seven years ago. Logan Webb is 24 years old. So for about 30 percent of his life, he’s been trying to get from draft day to Overnight Sensation.
This isn’t a new story in sports, but baseball in particular seems to derive some special pleasure from the ritual of torture that constitutes its minor league process. You’ve undoubtedly seen a little bit this year of the coverage of the minor league “lifestyle,” which is code for players getting paid less than the federal minimum and often sleeping on an air mattress in the kitchen of a two-bedroom apartment being shared by five or six other professional athletes.
“Well, it’s their choice,” some fool somewhere chimes in. Listen, it’s not a choice. The minor leaguers have no union; they have no bargaining power. Major league teams down through history have made the decision over and over again to institute a thrive-or-perish policy on the basics — things like food and shelter — with their own hired talent and future MLB roster candidates, an almost unbelievably idiotic procedural blunder. (Disclosure: I have a kid in the minors. Generally speaking, he has been treated well.) But that’s what baseball players do — they climb through it or else they quit the sport, driven out either because they run out of money or because an injury changes everything or, let’s face it, because teams and favorites change, too.
That’s part of what makes Webb’s story so worthwhile. He was a high school kid when drafted by San Francisco, and prep draftees usually progress like he did, one agonizing rung at a time up the ladder, with slips here and there. While Webb was trying to learn the pro game (and also how to actually pitch), the Giants were winning, losing, turning over their front office, turning it over again, and eventually saying goodbye to their rock-of-stability manager, Bruce Bochy. By the time Webb was really a candidate to have a future, it was the Zaidi-Kapler-analytics power axis calling the shots.
Webb pitched at every single level: Low-A, High-A, AA, AAA (for a cup of coffee). He played Short Season A his second year — but then again two years later, a rough pushback for someone already in his fourth season of pro ball. That league, Short-A, doesn’t even exist anymore.
He was on the cusp of something good in 2019, then got popped for an 80-game PED suspension, the origin of which he still says he has little idea. The Giants waited out the suspension and then carried on. But this thing could have gone any number of ways.
People who follow baseball organizations — not just the big-league team, but the whole body of players and coaches and instructors and analysts and evaluators who populate these companies — understand the odds Webb has beaten. As a fourth-rounder, he was always at least a fair prospect to pitch at the MLB level. But for whom? And when? And for that matter, how long? Players at the lower levels get cut, traded, non-tendered and released so often it’d make your head spin it if you actually paid close attention, which nobody is asking you to. But it’s mind-bending, it really is. Take it from someone who has spent the past couple of years completely immersed in every facet of one single organization. Stuff changes fast.
So here’s to Logan Webb, the seven-year overnight sensation. He’s pitching for the same organization that drafted him, with a whole season on the line and a considerable amount of personal and professional history already behind him. It all may sound like pressure. It’s really the most massive success story.
Awesome back-story perspective of the scratching and clawing, up-hill battle that MLB overnight sensations navigate on their way to "the show." And now, Logan Webb is on one of the highest profile "loser go home" stages...between the two best records in MLB. "No pressure, kid..." All the best, tonight!