It started out pretty well.
Joe Kelly allowed the Phillies to tie the game, but he retired J.T. Realmuto, and what had looked like a disaster of an inning when Kelly inherited it was starting to appear half-manageable.
It got better.
Joe Kelly did walk Nick Castellanos, but he got Bryson Stott to fly out to right field, and Stott hit the ball shallowly enough that Brandon Marsh stayed on second. Two outs, two on, game tied. Johan Rojas coming to the plate. The bottom of the order.
This is where it got bad.
Joe Kelly is wild sometimes. It’s part of the Joe Kelly concept. Were Joe Kelly not wild, it would be stolen valor for him to wear number 99. Were Joe Kelly not wild, he would not be supported by such a massive international fanbase.
The problem with being wild, though—and this is the only problem, to be clear—is that sometimes, it leads a pitcher to walk Johan Rojas, bringing up Kyle Schwarber with the bases loaded.
We don’t need to say what happened. It was not a grand slam, but it was functionally the same. (Ok we’ll say it: Wild pitch then a home run.) I don’t know how you pitch to Kyle Schwarber when he’s hot. I don’t think anybody knows how to do that. Frankly, I don’t want them to figure it out. Anybody smart enough to know how to pitch to a scorching Kyle Schwarber should be spending their time figuring out how to build a market-ready nuclear fusion reactor, or bringing peace to the Middle East, or persuading Georgia football players to stop getting behind the wheel.
Our working theory of Joe Kelly has long been that he’s immortal. (Evidence: He beats up people bigger than him, there are a near-infinite number of people named “Joe Kelly,” and he throws gas.) Does this challenge that theory? I don’t think so. This is Kyle Schwarber we’re talking about. It’s not like Joe Kelly was pitching to Aaron Judge.
