We’ve hit a point in Zach Plesac’s career where we can almost perfectly cut it into two distinct segments.
There’s the 2019-20 stretch of 171 innings that told us he was the next product of the Cleveland Pitching Machine. Sure, he didn’t have the velocity of Carrasco or Bauer, nor the breaking pitch of Kluber or Bieber, but he seemed — or at least some of us convinced ourselves — that he was more than the sum of his parts. The world of pitch tunneling, of hiding one inside another, was where he would live and find success, baffling the major league hitters he would face for the next fifteen years.