Hey, it's Zack.
The All-Star break is over. The second half is starting. For most fans it is a natural pause in the season. A chance to reset before the playoff push begins.
For players it is something different. Some guys rest. They go home, spend time with their families and recharge. But for a lot of players the break is something closer to a work session with better scenery. A few days to address something that has been bothering you for months without the pressure of a game that night.
In 2019 the All-Star break was one of the most important weeks of my career. And I spent most of it in my gym throwing by myself.
THE ENTRANCE
From 2014 through 2016 I was one of the best closers in baseball. In 2016 I went 47 for 47 in save opportunities with a 0.54 ERA. That season is still one of the most statistically dominant years any relief pitcher has ever had. I had found something. A routine. A repeatable delivery. A mental approach that let me walk into the ninth inning of a one run game and feel completely in control.
Then the Achilles happened.
I ruptured my Achilles tendon in September 2017. I missed almost the entire 2018 season recovering. When I came back I was not the same pitcher. My mechanics felt off. My body felt off. The thing about an Achilles injury for a pitcher is that so much of what you do on the mound is driven by your legs. Your drive. Your landing. Your follow through. Your overall balance. When that foundation changes even slightly, everything built on top of it shifts.
I was fighting myself every time I took the mound in 2018. And I was still fighting myself going into 2019.
That offseason I had made a decision. I was going to give up the closer role and become a setup man. Aroldis Chapman was the Yankees closer. There was no changing that. I had options. Teams that would have wanted me to close. But I wanted to win. I believed the Yankees were my best chance at a World Series ring. So I made the choice.
What I did not appreciate until I was living it was how much giving up the closer role would mess with my head.
THE DELIVERY
Being a closer is not just a job description. It is a routine. A preparation. A way of organizing your entire day around one specific situation.
When you are the closer you know what your role is from the moment you wake up. You know your warm up routine. You know when you are pitching. You know the situations you will face. A good closer builds his entire existence around that ninth inning save situation. From 2014 through 2016 I had built one of the best routines in baseball around exactly that. The results were not an accident. They were the product of repetition and refinement.
As a setup man in 2019 that all changed. Now I was pitching based on the lineup. On matchups. On the situation the manager needed me for that particular night. Sometimes as early as the seventh inning. Sometimes I did not pitch at all. The unpredictability was something I had never had to manage before at that level and it threw everything off.
My mechanics were still compromised from the Achilles. My routine was disrupted by the new role. And the data was telling me things I did not feel. The numbers said one thing. My body said another. I kept looking at video of previous years trying to find what I had lost. Trying to recreate the version of myself that had been nearly unhittable.
I had talked to Scott Boras about it. He understood. But he also knew I had made my decision. I had chosen the Yankees. I had chosen the ring over the closer role. That was not something I regretted intellectually. But emotionally it was one of the hardest adjustments I ever had to make.
I was chasing a ghost. The version of myself from 2016. And that ghost was making it impossible to become whoever I needed to be in 2019.
By the All-Star break my ERA was 2.43. For most relievers that is a fine number. For me it felt like failure. I had been one of the best in baseball not long ago. I was not close to that in the first half of 2019 and I knew it.
THE SAVE
I went home during the break and I threw every day in my gym. Alone. I knew that is what it was going to take.
My wife and kids were there. But I was not really there. I was in the gym. I was in my head. The break that is supposed to be family time became something else entirely. That is not easy to admit and it was not easy to live with. That kind of distance takes a toll on everyone around you. My wife understood though. She wanted me to figure it out as much as I did. That support meant everything even when I was not able to fully show up for her the way she deserved.
But it was not about mechanics anymore. I had spent months looking at video and chasing data and trying to reverse engineer what I used to do. None of it worked. Because the problem was not in the data. The problem was in my head.
What I finally understood during those days in my gym was that I had been trying to get back to something that no longer existed. The 2016 version of me was gone. The Achilles had changed my body. The role change had changed my routine. I could not go backwards. I had to go forward.
The day before I flew back to New York something shifted. I stopped trying to be the old version of myself and made a commitment to become whoever the new version of me was capable of being. I was going to compete. I was going to trust my stuff. I was going to stop watching old video and start building something new.
It was not a dramatic moment. No lightning bolt. No single breakthrough pitch in the gym. Just a decision. A commitment to stop looking backwards.
My second half ERA was 1.11. My strikeout rate went from 6.3 per nine innings in the first half to 10.0 per nine in the second half. The work in the gym mattered. But the mental reset mattered more.
2019 was the hardest year I ever had mentally until I tried to come back from Tommy John surgery years later. The physical challenges were real. But the mental battle of letting go of who I used to be and accepting who I was becoming was something nobody prepares you for.
The All-Star break did not save my season. I did. But the break gave me the time and the space to figure out how.
That is what the break is actually for. Not vacation. Work. The kind of work you hope will show up in a box score.
Every player on a major league roster used this break for something. Some went to the All-Star Game. Some rested. Some rehabbed. Some went home and worked the way I did in 2019. You will not know which ones did the work until you see them in the second half.
A few names worth watching. Gunnar Henderson in Baltimore is one of the most talented players in baseball and has had a first half well below what anyone expected from him. He hit 37 home runs and finished fourth in AL MVP voting in 2024. This year he has been a different player. The Orioles moved him to the leadoff spot before the break trying to find a spark. Henderson is exactly the kind of player who uses a break like this to reset. Watch him in the second half. Jordan Walker just won the Home Run Derby and has been one of the best stories in baseball all season. The second half is where good players become great ones. And Dylan Crews in Washington was the number four overall pick not long ago and has yet to put it all together at the big league level. The underlying numbers suggest he is closer than the surface stats show.
The work happened during the break. The proof shows up in the second half.
Talk soon, Z
The Save is a personal newsletter based on my own experiences, opinions, and recollections. The opinions expressed here are mine alone and do not represent any team, organization, union or employer past or present. When discussing players, contracts or organizational decisions I am sharing my perspective as a former player — not making legal or financial claims. When I share stories involving others I am telling them from my point of view. When I share tips or lessons I am sharing what worked for me. Always do your own research and consult professionals when making important decisions.