Why are Padres players wearing brown shirts that depict the Grim Reaper clutching a baseball?
Because teammate Mason Miller was known as “The Reaper” during his Oakland A’s tenure, and the closer with a triple-digit fastball has become even more dominant with the Padres.
Miller, 27, appreciates the team spirit.
But he wouldn’t be caught dead or alive wearing the shirt he inspired.
“I’ll let everyone else wear it,” he said when the season began. “It seems a little conceited for me to wear it.”
The Reaper schtick, as it turned out, wasn’t overkill.
At a rate seldom seen since men were first paid to chuck baseballs, the big leaguers who face Miller are dead men walking.
“We’re watching greatness out there on the mound every day,” Padres manager Craig Stammen said before Saturday’s game against the Rockies at Petco Park.
Miller’s A+ fastball and A+ slider led A.J. Preller to trade the Padres’ top prospect, shortstop Leo De Vries, for the 6-foot-3 closer last summer.
In his second game after the trade, Miller gave up a two-run home run to the Diamondbacks in Phoenix.
Somehow, Diamondbacks righty Lourdes Gurriel squared up a 103.9 mph fastball — the fastest pitch ever hit for a home run in the Statcast era.
Miller responded by improving his accuracy and becoming less predictable to hitters.
The results are staggering.
Miller allowed no runs over the 21 1/3 innings after Gurriel’s home run … plus the 2 2/’3 playoff innings against the Cubs in which he struck out all eight hitters … and the four innings in the World Baseball Classic last month … and the 7 1/3 frames to begin this season entering Saturday.
Thirty-five innings. Zero runs.
Even more impressive than the scoreless streak is the degree to which Miller is stamping out even the threat of allowing a run.
Across the 35 innings, he has 79 strikeouts with five hits allowed. He has walked just 10 batters.
“He’s definitely on a little bit of a heater now,” said Stammen, adhering to the ballplayer creed of understating a hot streak, lest one jinx it. “He’s pitching as good as anybody can pitch.”
Mason Miller #22 of the San Diego Padres celebrates during the ninth inning against the Colorado Rockies at Petco Park on Friday, April 10, 2026 in San Diego, California. (Meg McLaughlin / The San Diego Union-Tribune)
Miller has found a higher level this year.
Forcing hitters to respect his accuracy, he has issued just one walk in the 7 1/3 innings against Padres opponents after allowing no walks in the four WBC innings.
“I’m happy with how I’ve come out of the gate, just dominating the strike zone and putting hitters in counts where they’re gonna chase, too,” Miller said.
Miller said he is “breaking home plate into thirds” visually. He aims at either the plate’s inner third or outer third, rather than trying to shave the corners.
“My stuff’s good enough that I can be there and get outs,” he said. “I don’t have to go, ‘I have to put this on the outside corner, or it’s going to get hit 400 feet.’ I can say, ‘OK, break the plate into thirds.’ ’’
Nor can hitters assume the fastball is coming.
He has thrown the slider more often — 48 times — and the only hit he has allowed was off a fastball.
“We always talk about his velocity,” Stammen said, “but his slider is really what the separator is.”
It’s never surprising when the Padres employ a terrific closer.
The alums include Hall of Famers in Goose Gossage and Trevor Hoffman, a Cy Young winner in Mark Davis and a formidable finisher in Heath Bell, the closer of the 2006 club that stands as the franchise’s most recent NL West champion.
For surreal delight created by a Padres closer, we must respect Rod Beck saving all 20 save tries in 2023, while doing voodoo with a fastball that ranged from 84 to 86 mph.
Such is Miller’s astounding streak that Carlos Hernandez, the main catcher on the World Series Padres of 1998, said he desperately wishes he could catch Miller.
Even in the bullpen.
“I want to know what it’s like to catch 104 miles per hour,” said Hernandez, 58, a longtime color analyst on Padres Spanish-language broadcasts.
When hitters stepped in to face Hoffman, Hernandez liked to play mind games with them. He would tell them Hoffman’s killer changeup would be coming during the at-bat.
And if he caught Miller, what would he tell hitters?
“I’d just laugh,” he said. “And say, ‘Good luck.’”