Blowouts, Bullpens and the Arm Strength Hardly Anybody Notices

[Sam Charles]

Early injuries have turned April into a test of endurance, pushing the Blue Jays to treat position player pitching not as a novelty, but as a necessary strategy built on velocity control, strike throwing and protecting pitching arms. While some were surprised by the team's signing of so many pitchers this offseason, it should have started to make a bit more sense. With injuries mounting, Toronto might have to search for answers from within.

This season has barely found its rhythm, and the Jays already feel like a team playing emergency baseball. Pitching injuries arrived early. Depth has been tested almost nightly. John Schneider has managed more than a few games with one eye on the scoreboard and the other on who might still be physically capable of throwing tomorrow.

In that environment, blowouts have a ripple effect. Starters exit early, and the bullpen gets stretched. Game one against the Dodgers on Monday was no exception.

Position player pitching, once viewed as a quirky sideshow or an act of surrender, is quietly becoming a practical tool. When innings threaten to avalanche, and the bullpen cannot afford another high‑stress appearance in April, using a position player becomes less about optics and more about survival.

That door is already open.

Tyler Heineman covered two innings in a lopsided loss on March 31 and again against the Dodgers on April 6. It likely won’t be the last time Toronto makes that call. Using Heineman means the Jays are protecting arms rather than preserving the box score.

Innings when a position player is on the mound exist to save pitchers, not to impress hitters or fans. Baseball has talked about a mercy rule, but I don’t think we are there yet.

Since 2018, position players have typically carried ERAs between 8.00 and 10.00. Opponents slug well over .600. Strikeout rates dip below 10 percent. Hitters rarely miss, and everyone involved knows it. The calculation isn’t about preventing damage, but containing it. One spared elbow in April can ripple through a season in ways a single blowout never will.

Toronto understands that math, even if fans understandably prefer not to see a catcher lofting 78‑mph fastballs in a loss.

Heineman’s appearance wasn’t random. Catchers on the mound make sense because they already throw in games, understand sequencing and aren’t overwhelmed by the environment. The downside is that many catchers throw at max effort by instinct. Heineman doesn’t. His delivery is compact, his intent clearly dialed back, and his velocity plays down by design. More importantly, he throws strikes. In these situations, command matters far more than velocity. A walk does more damage than a single when the entire goal is getting through the inning without turning it into a 30‑pitch ordeal.

Yet, even catchers get tired, so here is a list of other Blue Jays who could, realistically or not, be asked to wear this role.

Addison Barger sits near the top (at least when it comes to how fun it would be to see him get the call). First off, his wavy hair matches Dylan Cease and Kevin Gausman. While his arm strength jumps out even during routine defensive plays, what stands out more is how easily he throws. There’s little violence in the motion. Position player pitching isn’t about lighting up the gun; it’s about repeatability. Barger could likely live in the low‑to‑mid‑80s without straining, and his calm mechanics suggest he could find the zone often enough to let hitters put early swings on the ball. That’s exactly what teams want in these spots.

Ernie Clement may be the sneakiest name on the list. His defensive versatility is paired with a compact, repeatable throwing motion that doesn’t scream maximum effort. Clement’s arm strength isn’t flashy, but in this role, that’s often an advantage. A steady stream of strikes at 78 to 82 mph is often enough when hitters are swinging early.

Nathan Lukes and Myles Straw fall into the category of outfielders that teams quietly trust more than fans realize. Both are capable, accurate throwers with experience making long, controlled throws from the gaps. Lukes, in particular, has shown a calm, measured throwing style that would translate cleanly to pitching at reduced intent. Straw doesn’t have elite velocity, but his athleticism and body control suggest he could handle the mechanics without panic. For a one‑inning bridge to the final out, that matters more than raw power.

Then there’s Davis Schneider, who, much like Clement, has played several positions when called upon. Schneider’s arm strength is better than most casual observers expect, and he throws with a compact, catch‑and‑fire motion that minimizes stress. He likely wouldn’t light up the gun, but he wouldn’t need to. He could throw around 80 mph, filling the zone, trusting hitters to make contact.

Outfielders and utility players have quietly become the backbone of these contingency plans across baseball. With bullpens under constant strain from velocity spikes, heavier workloads and injuries, teams now view non‑pitcher innings as a form of load management. Relatively new league rules limit position player pitchers to clearly non‑competitive situations, like late innings with large run differentials, or extra‑inning emergencies, so you just don't see it as much as you used to.

So, why don’t teams do this even more often? Health is the obvious answer. Every throw carries risk, even at reduced effort. Front offices know how quickly a meaningless inning can turn into a strained oblique or a jammed finger. Core stars remain untouchable. But there’s also a psychological layer. Not every player wants the job. Some treat it as fun. Others see it as humiliation. Trust and willingness matter more than teams ever admit publicly.

There’s also a hidden benefit to position players pitching that almost never gets discussed. When a manager hands the ball to a position player, it sends a signal to the bullpen: You’re protected. Relievers notice. Over a long season, that trust matters.

And yes, there’s still entertainment value. Toronto crowds engage with these moments in ways they don’t during grim blowouts. Laughter replaces frustration. An 83‑mph fastball from a second baseman draws a louder response than a standard mop‑up strikeout ever will. Baseball needs those pressure‑release moments, especially when a season (like this one) starts feeling heavy earlier than expected.

For the Blue Jays, this is no longer theoretical. Injuries have already pushed them into survival mode. Heineman’s three innings so far aren’t a punchline. They are a preview. There will be more nights where creativity matters more than pride. Maybe Barger absorbs an inning on a long road trip. Maybe Clement quietly pencils in a clean frame. Maybe Schneider or Lukes takes the ball because the coaching staff knows there will be no drama.

Seasons aren’t won on nights when everything goes right. They’re managed on nights when everything breaks. Position player pitching lives squarely in that space: an admission of limits, a bet on tomorrow and a reminder that baseball, even in its strangest moments, is a game built on endurance.

Unfortunately, this season, the Blue Jays already understand that.

They’re not laughing anymore. They’re planning.

Statistics updated prior to games on April 7.

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