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  Martin’s art-combined-with-science, jazzlike approach would never be more important than on the day Liriano was to start the wild-card play-in game on October 1 at PNC Park versus the Reds. The pitch Liriano had the most conviction in and the pitch the Reds hitters were most vulnerable to was the slider, and Martin knew this.

  That Tuesday, fans began streaming early to Pittsburgh’s North Shore, the land adjacent to the city’s central business district north of the Allegheny River. The North Shore’s signature neighborhood, Mexican War Streets, its narrow roads lined with trees and 150-year-old, brick row homes, was designed by Alexander Hays on land owned by Mexican War veteran General William Robinson. The streets were named after generals and famous battle sites from the Mexican War. PNC Park’s main entrance rests at the intersection of General Robinson Street and Mazeroski Way. After years of neglect, the neighborhood was being revitalized, and so was its baseball club.

  Students from Duquesne and the University of Pittsburgh cut class and commuted down the city’s elevated east end toward the North Shore. Car traffic was shut off earlier than normal on the Roberto Clemente Bridge, which spans the glistening Allegheny River with its gold towers and cables, connecting downtown to the North Shore. In an outbreak of some undiagnosed ailment, scores of children and businessmen called in sick to school or work in western Pennsylvania. The previous night, the team, particularly backup catcher Michael McKenry, had taken to social media to rally support. On Twitter, McKenry called for a “blackout,” asking fans coming to the game to wear black T-shirts, jerseys, sweatshirts—anything black—to better promote unity, and perhaps intimidation. On the streets, tickets were going for hundreds of dollars above face value. A single baseball game is typically not a huge event. It’s not a football game or a scarce product in what is a long season with 162 games. But on this day, this was an event.

  Around two o’clock that afternoon, Neal Huntington approached the window of his front office to see what was causing a commotion on Federal Street, which borders the east end of PNC Park, beyond the left-field wall.

  “I was in my office.… I’m locked in as we are beginning prep for 2014,” Huntington said. “All of the sudden I hear a ‘Let’s go, Bucs’ chant out my window because my office overlooks Federal Street, and I remember thinking, ‘That’s awfully early, this is going to be crazy.’ I looked out of my office window unaware that the blackout is taking place and seeing eighty to ninety percent of people in black, and Federal Street is jammed. Everything else is kind of a blur.… I realized we were really in for something special that night.”

  Two hours before first pitch, Federal Street was swamped with fans, along with the sounds of music and revelry. Thirty minutes before the first pitch, Hurdle entered the dugout as was his custom. He likes to sit there alone, take in the soft light of the setting sun, and feel the energy of the crowd. He had never felt a pregame energy quite like this, and he had played and coached in the World Series.

  “I haven’t been to a World Cup soccer game, but I can only imagine that is what it is like,” Hurdle said. “For our guys to throw the blackout thing there. And the fan base to show up. You talk about hunger, passion, twenty years without … they let it all out.”

  It was crowded and loud in PNC Park, and alone in the center of that atmosphere were Liriano and Reds starting pitcher Johnny Cueto.

  Ten months earlier the majority of the league had given up on the enigmatic Liriano. In 2013, he had gone from baseball’s bargain bin to the National League Comeback Player of the Year. He was to start the club’s most important game in twenty-one years, given the most important assignment since Doug Drabek took the mound in Atlanta–Fulton County Stadium for Game 7 of the 1992 National League Championship Series. Interestingly, the now gray-haired Drabek would throw out the ceremonial pitch prior to the game.

  Hurdle was criticized at times throughout the season for some of his day-to-day management, such as continuing to bat Starling Marte in the leadoff spot despite his below-average walk rate and his struggles with right-handed pitching. But Hurdle and his staff had the foresight to align the rotation so Liriano would pitch in the one-game play-off game. He had allowed only two extra-base hits to left-handed hitters the entire season. Yes, two extra-base hits the entire season.

  The crowd was in lively spirits before the game, and Andrew McCutchen rose to the top step of the third-base dugout to appreciate it prior to the first pitch. McCutchen’s mother had sung the national anthem, further elevating the crowd’s electricity. Several hundred fans unable to get tickets stood on the Clemente Bridge over the Allegheny River, trying to get a peek at the action from behind center field, eager to be a part of the atmosphere, to say they were there. Flags waved and “Let’s go, Bucs” chants were sung.

  Following pregame introductions, during which the Reds were viciously booed, PNC Park pulsated. Anticipation welled up as if the more than forty thousand people were waiting for the main act at a concert to take the stage. The field was empty for a moment in a brief calm before the Pirates emerged from their dugout in black jerseys and white pants. The first of many roars erupted from a crowd that had twenty years of pent-up baseball frustration to vent, that had endured twenty years of baseball misery before hosting a play-off game. Liriano jogged to the mound and picked up the first ball of the evening, as chants of “Let’s go, Bucs” began around him.

  As he went through his warm-up pitches, he knew the game plan well, it was simple. Liriano was to get ahead with his fastball and bury the lefty Reds sluggers with his slider. Liriano’s first two pitches of the evening were 93 mph, two-seam fastballs, one for a ball, one for a strike, against the normally patient Reds leadoff hitter, Shin-Soo Choo. Martin then called for the game’s first slider. Liriano unleashed a wicked one that broke sharply away from the left-handed Choo. Choo swung violently over the top of the ball. From his crouched position Martin looked up at Choo briefly, surprised to see the normally calculating Choo swing so aggressively and miss so badly. Martin called for another slider. Liriano again snapped off a slider and buried it deep below the strike zone. Choo again swung and missed. The black-clad crowd roared. Choo headed back to the dugout as the ball was thrown around the horn, from Martin to third baseman Pedro Alvarez to second baseman Neil Walker to shortstop Clint Barmes and back to Liriano.

  Martin started Reds number two hitter Ryan Ludwick with a slider, which sailed out of the zone for a ball, then called for the game’s first changeup, which Ludwick swung over the top of for a strike. Liriano next threw a slider, which tempted Ludwick into another swinging strike. Ludwick pounded yet another slider into the turf bounding toward shortstop Barmes, who threw across the infield for a putout.

  The Reds had two of the game’s most patient, selective hitters in Choo and their number thee hitter, Joey Votto. That season Choo had seen 4.23 pitches per plate appearances, the eighth most in baseball. Votto was thirteenth, at 4.18. Votto stepped into the left-hander’s batter’s box and twisted his cleats into the dirt to develop a more stable base. He then did something he rarely ever did: he swung at the first pitch. His swing was atypically aggressive and out of control. His front foot came uprooted from the ground and he nearly stumbled out of the box as he grounded weakly to Pirates first baseman Justin Morneau, who flipped to Liriano for the final out of the inning.

  As Martin made his way into the dugout between innings and consulted with Liriano and pitching coach Ray Searage, he noted the Reds were being uncharacteristically aggressive. The energy in the ballpark was palpable, everyone felt it. Heck, Votto was thought to be an emotionless, baseball-smashing robot, and even he looked to be caught up in the moment. Martin thought the energy combined with the stakes of the situation—win or go home—had changed the approach of the normally patient Reds stars. Martin felt Choo and Votto were trying to do too much. The Reds were looking for fastballs early in counts they could drive, and Martin knew this made them susceptible to off-speed pitches. The game plan was for Liriano to get a
head in the count with his fastball and then bury the Reds lefties with his slider. Martin decided Liriano wasn’t going to go to the slider just as a strikeout pitch; it would be his everything pitch. He would throw it early and often until the Reds adjusted.

  After the Pirates went scoreless in the bottom of the first, Liriano got right-handed Reds second baseman Brandon Phillips to ground out on two pitches. The best Reds power hitter, another lefty, then came to bat. Jay Bruce had the most power in the lineup, and like Choo, Bruce was one of the more selective hitters in the game. He saw 3.96 pitches per plate appearance that season, which ranked forty-fourth in baseball. Against Bruce, Martin went away from a typical pitch-sequencing pattern and did something unorthodox. Bruce did not swing at the first pitch, a slider from Liriano, which went for a ball. Bruce swung at and missed the next two pitches, both sliders, which broke down and away from Bruce’s swing. After three straight sliders, Martin quickly glanced up at Bruce to make sure he wasn’t trying to steal a sign. Martin again gave Liriano the sign for a slider, putting down two fingers, burying the sign close to his body. Liriano nodded in agreement, then twisted and fired off another sweeping slider, which Bruce missed badly with a swing for another strikeout. The next batter, Todd Frazier, grounded out on a changeup to end the inning.

  “In those types of the games the energy is [high], guys are going to swing the bat. You think they are going to take pitches and work the count? Are you kidding me? It’s a freaking play-off game,” Martin said. “Everyone is feeling like me. They are really amped. They want to swing the bat. You know what? They are going to get a crap ton of sliders, and we are going to see what happens.”

  While Martin’s pitch sequencing and Liriano’s execution was critical, the most unforgettable memory of the game would be tied to something Cueto did with a ball and what Martin would do with his bat. “Let’s go, Bucs” chants had begun in the first inning, and in the second they had grown in volume. Dozens were waving the Jolly Roger; forty thousand were clad in black. Through the unifying color and the noise the fans had taken on an intimidating oneness. The environment, no doubt aided by Yuengling and Iron City beer, was reminiscent of that of an English Premier League soccer match.

  In the bottom of the second inning, Cueto made the first mistake of the game. He left a pitch out over the plate that late-season acquisition Marlon Byrd belted for a home run. The crowd noise picked up in ferocity as the ball was swallowed by the crowd and Byrd began his trot around the bases. A new chant originated at some ground zero somewhere in PNC Park and grew in volume to a tidal wave. In a taunting, haunting crescendo forty thousand chanted, “Kwaaaayyyyy-toe … Kwaaaayyyyy-toe,” toward the center of the diamond. Under this avalanche of noise, with the misfortune of having a two-syllable, perfect-for-chanting surname, Cueto was thrown a new game ball by the home-plate umpire. Cueto literally dropped the ball. Seeing this, the crowd went into a frenzy, believing the dropped ball signaled that they had got inside the head of the Reds starting pitcher. On the very next pitch, Cueto allowed a fastball to leak out over the plate. Waiting for it was Martin, who smashed the ball into the left-field bleachers for another homer. The crowd was euphoric. Twenty years of pent-up misery was released on this night, manifesting itself in a sound that felt like being at the bottom of a waterfall.

  “I think as the legend grows,” said Martin to reporters afterward, “it will be like the sound waves of the people making all that noise grabbed the baseball out of his hand and made it drop and messed with his rhythm.”

  The Pirates held a 2–0 lead after two innings. Liriano buzzed through the bottom of the Reds lineup in the third inning. During the Pirates at bat in the third inning, McCutchen reached on a single and later scored on a sacrifice fly by Pedro Alvarez.

  In the top of the fourth inning the Pirates led 3–0 as Liriano faced the vaunted top third of the Reds lineup for the second time. Martin was even more aggressive with his game-calling, but it did not begin well. After starting the inning with a slider to Choo, Liriano let a fastball get away and hit the Reds leadoff man, placing him on first. Martin called for another slider against the right-handed Ludwick. The pitch caught too much of the plate, and Ludwick singled sharply into left field. With two Reds on base and none out in the inning, the crowd quieted for the first time since the game began. Coming to the plate was Votto, one of the most feared and disciplined hitters in the game. If Liriano made another mistake, the game could be tied with one swing.

  On the first pitch to Votto, Martin called for a slider, which was fouled away. On the second offering, Liriano buried a slider in the dirt, which Votto chased for another strike. Martin dove to his knees and blocked the ball with his chest protector to prevent the runners from advancing. To Martin’s bewilderment, Votto was continuing to be ultra-aggressive, so Martin made the unorthodox decision to go with yet another slider. Unlike in the first inning, Votto choked up on the bat slightly and made a more controlled swing. But he again swung over the top of the breaking pitch for a strikeout. Several thousand people in the stands jumped to their feet, thrusting fists into the air and waving towels.

  Against the following batter, Brandon Phillips, Martin called for a changeup with no balls and two strikes, which Phillips popped to Walker for the second out. The left-handed Bruce followed and saw his fifth and sixth pitches of the night, all of which were sliders. Bruce swung and missed at the second slider to even the count at 1-1. Martin finally called for a fastball, which Bruce connected with, beating the shift with a single to the left to cut the Pirates lead to 3–1. To Martin’s amazement the Reds were still hunting fastballs, continuing to be overly aggressive in their approach, even though Liriano had thrown 12 sliders to lefties in the first 4 innings, and 8 were swung at and missed.

  With runners on first and second and two outs, Martin called for four straight off-speed pitches to Todd Frazier, including an 88 mph slider that broke below his flailing bat for a strikeout. Liriano had limited the damage to one run.

  The Pirates scored two more runs in the bottom of the fourth with Walker scoring Marte with a double and then later coming around to score on a fielder’s-choice groundout, giving the Pirates a 5–1 lead after four innings. The noise was changing now as the fans’ nervousness dissipated and confidence grew that the Pirates would advance. Those that were there swear that PNC Park’s upper deck vibrated like a rickety set of bleachers in a high school gymnasium.

  Liriano went through the top of the Reds lineup for a final time in the sixth inning. Choo tapped out weakly to first base. Votto once again swung over the top of a slider for a strikeout, then slowly walked back to the visitors’ dugout with his head low. Against Liriano and with the crowd on the side of the Pirates, the Reds seemed to realize that they had no chance. Reds manager Dusty Baker looked blankly out to the field as the television camera panned the crowd and then the Reds dugout, creating a striking juxtaposition. In the seventh, with two outs and a runner on, Liriano induced Reds catcher Ryan Hanigan to ground out to third. It was the last batter of the night for Liriano, who allowed four hits and one run over seven innings, walking one and striking out five.

  The Pirates’ analytics department had identified Liriano as a strong bounce-back candidate, but rebuilding Liriano was a team effort. It took Ray Searage’s being something of a pitcher whisperer. Rather than trying to make a multitude of changes, he focused on several critical tweaks, raising Liriano’s arm slot to cut down on east-west misses of the strike zone. Liriano was aided in getting strike one called more often by Martin’s pitch framing, setting up Liriano’s wipeout slider, and Martin’s game planning and pitch sequencing was also valuable. Crucially, Martin was able to connect with pitchers and earn their trust. It all came together on this night. Liriano’s slider and Martin’s game-calling and pitch framing was another example of new-age and traditional baseball blending to form a powerful result for the Pirates in 2013.

  In a the bottom of the seventh inning a victory seemed certain as Martin struc
k again, sending a 96 mph fastball from Logan Ondrusek over the left-field wall to give the Pirates a 6–1 lead. The “blackout” crowd rose again as one; black towels were twirled, fists were raised, and high fives were exchanged as Martin clapped his hands together as he touched first and rounded the bases. Victory seemed inevitable as Jason Grilli came out from the left-center-field bull pen and jogged to the center of the diamond in the top of the ninth inning. The roar was becoming hoarse now after forty thousand fans had sustained an incredible volume for more than three hours. With two outs, the crowd rose to its feet in anticipation of a final, joyful release.

  When the Reds’ Zack Cozart slammed a Grilli fastball into the infield, Grilli bounded from the mound with both arms raised in anticipation of the final out. Walker scooped up the ground ball and threw to first baseman Justin Morneau to complete the 6–2 victory. A mosh pit formed in the center of the field, while in the stands strangers hugged and high-fived each other, and fans at the bars along Federal Street poured into the street. One overzealous fan jumped from the Roberto Clemente Bridge into the Allegheny River and lived to tell the tale.

  The victory was in large part credited to Liriano’s brilliance. He was at the top of his game, showing at times what scouts would label a plus-plus slider with two-plane break. In English, it meant that the slider was breaking late and hard with significant movement down and away from left-handed hitters, and it was difficult to distinguish the pitch from his fastball. But Martin also deserved credit for not only framing pitches, but for correctly diagnosing the Reds’ strategy and calling an ultra-aggressive game plan. Against the lefty trio of Reds stars—Choo, Bruce, and Votto—Liriano threw his slider on 20 of 27 pitches. Against Liriano, the three went 1 for 8 with 4 strikeouts. Overall, Liriano’s arm nearly came off as he threw the slider a whopping 44 times versus 23 fastballs and 23 changeups. Of the 44 sliders, 34 went for strikes—13 of which went for swing-and-miss strikes. It was a rare rate of whiff-producing pitches. Liriano recorded only 4 swing–and-misses with his fastball and changeup combined.