This story is part of Peak, The Athletic’s desk covering the mental side of sports. Sign up for Peak’s newsletter here.
Alex Avila caught for 13 years in Major League Baseball and made the 2011 All-Star Game with the Detroit Tigers.
I had the incredible opportunity during my 13-year MLB career to catch several Hall-of-Fame-caliber pitchers:
Justin Verlander (one MVP, three Cy Youngs).
Max Scherzer (three Cy Youngs, eight-time All-Star).
Chris Sale (one Cy Young, 10-time All-Star).
Zack Greinke (one Cy Young, six Gold Gloves).
They were all different in their own way, but they shared three similar traits when it came to their mentality:
1. A laser focus with routine
Each of them had a relentless preparation and a routine that was almost exact to the minute.
That routine reassured them that they were prepared, and that preparedness gave them the confidence to execute.
That’s what separated them: That drive, that motivation, that ability to hyper-focus on a routine.
Between spring training and the season, you’re basically playing baseball every day for eight months. It’s easy to slack off: On this particular day, I’m not going to do this. I’m not going to worry about this today.
The great ones didn’t do that. They knew exactly what they had to do, and they were relentless in doing it.
It was obviously physical: their bullpen sessions, in the gym. But it was also mental: game planning, meditation, visualization.
It was a different level than most guys.
Justin Verlander would put his headphones on, and it was almost like he had blinders on. He was that focused.
There was a distinct difference between those guys and some of the other pitchers I caught.
Spencer Strider tries to think objectively
Elise Devlin
2. Self-reliance
It’s not that they didn’t need their pitching coaches and catchers; they did. But each of them became their own coach.
They knew themselves so well that they could make their adjustments without anyone telling them.
That always comes to mind with Max Scherzer. It took him a while to understand his body, understand his mechanics. But once he figured that out, he knew exactly where he needed to go mentally and what mental cues he needed to give himself to adjust when things started to get out of whack.
That made him even more consistent, which propelled him to the next level.
I’ll give you an example.
He always had a very good fastball, a great changeup and a good slider. Those were his three pitches when I was catching him in Detroit.
There was a stretch when he was having a bit of a hard time getting left-handed hitters out. It was mainly because all of his pitches moved away from left-handed hitters.
He knew he needed to come up with a pitch that broke into a lefty batter. So he started working on a curveball.
He started throwing it in the bullpen, just trying to get comfortable with it. After a while, we were getting ready for a game, and he told me: Let’s try to work it in three or four times today.
We picked out a couple of different spots to try it, like the first pitch to a specific hitter.
As he got more comfortable, he went from throwing it three or four times a game to maybe six or seven times. Then he started to use it against right-handed hitters too.
All of a sudden, it became a real weapon for him.
He built his confidence over the whole process. I watched Max grow into that.
It was the same with the other greats I caught: They were able to adjust because they knew themselves so well.
It was something I witnessed every day. When they prepared for a start, they would break down the other team’s hitters. What was going to work to get them out? Sometimes analytics or the game plan said one thing, but they would know if their stuff that day matched up.
If it did, great. But if it didn’t, they knew how to adjust mentally. There was no one-size-fits-all with those guys.
3. Real confidence
This is the most important one to me. They all had almost a f— you mentality.
When they were on the mound, each of those guys believed that no one could touch them that day.
They prepared so well, and had enough success, that when they actually stepped on the mound, they felt invincible.
It wasn’t just talk. It was a real belief.
When Justin Verlander was rolling in his prime, he literally thought no one was going to get a hit off of him that day. Some pitchers think: I’m going to try to get through six innings today. If I’m pitching well, maybe I can get into the seventh.
Justin would think: I’m throwing nine innings. Nobody is getting a hit.
I only caught Chris Sale for one year with the Chicago White Sox. It was in 2016.
He had always been an incredible pitcher with awesome stuff. It was one of those things where he’d punch out 10 or 12 guys in a game, but only go five or six innings.
In spring training that year, we were talking after one of his bullpen sessions about going deeper into games. I casually mentioned to him: I want you to throw five complete games this year.
I just threw a number out there. I think he was being polite to a new teammate, but he seemed to take that as a challenge.
He ended up throwing six complete games that season.
He knew he had it in him; he had that confidence. I could see that coming out of him that whole year.
All the greats had that, and everyone’s confidence around them rose because of it.
— As told to Jayson Jenks