LOS ANGELES — Rawboned and gangling, he peered peek-a-boo over his glove, rocked and curled the ball behind his head. Sucking his lips hard against his teeth, he spun toward the plate, his right leg kicking up behind him, his hair a whirling dervish mop of locks.
All evening Friday, Jacob deGrom executed this delivery, tossing that most intriguing pitch: the seemingly effortless 97-98 miles per hour fastball. Some skidded sideways, others slithered downward. When for punctuation he tossed a couple of 3-2 changeups, the effect on the batters was almost unfair.
He completed seven innings, striking out 13 and walking just one.