Blue Jays are learning the hard way they can't simply avoid Mariners' Cal Raleigh

There’s a certain irony in building your entire run-prevention plan around not letting one hitter beat you, only to watch the inning detonate because everyone else does. That’s where the Toronto Blue Jays are with Seattle Mariners catcher Cal Raleigh right now.

They don’t want any part of him, and you can’t blame them: he’s the rare switch-hitting catcher who changes at-bats just by stepping into the box. But baseball’s math is cruel when you start handing out baserunners to dodge a fight. You turn solo threats into crooked numbers, and the Mariners — more specifically, Julio Rodríguez and Jorge Polanco — are happily cashing those checks.

Cal Raleigh’s presence is warping the Blue Jays’ entire pitching plan

What’s wild is how quickly the tone has flipped since 2023. Back then, John Schneider fired off the now-famous take that Raleigh was "not very tough to pitch to when you execute your pitches," a sound bite that didn’t age well the second Raleigh kept punishing mistakes. 

Two years later, Schneider is playing a very different chorus. He’s admitted he shouldn’t have said it, praised Raleigh’s growth, and, most telling, conceded that every time Cal walks to the plate he’s considering putting him on. That’s not trash talk; that’s survival talk.

And yet the survival plan keeps feeding the fire. The Jays tried the soft-avoid in the first inning of Game 2. Trey Yesavage nibbled and gave Raleigh nothing to hit. Then they went full send on the intentional walk in the fifth. Both choices set the table for three-run thunder: first Julio Rodríguez, then Jorge Polanco. That’s the trap with the “avoid the monster” strategy against a lineup that stacks damage behind him. You’re not closing the valve; you’re opening the floodgates for the next hitter.

Seattle knows it, too. Raleigh’s presence warps the Blue Jays’ pitch maps before the first strike is thrown, and the Mariners have leaned into that gravity. Julio has been a menace with traffic (.880 OPS with men on), and Polanco has been even sharper in those states (.936 OPS). These aren’t comfortable baton-pass hitters; they’re middle-order closers who turn “smart” avoidance into scoreboard confetti.

If you’re Toronto, you either take your medicine with Raleigh or you accept that the allergic reaction might be worse.

This is also what growth looks like for Raleigh. Schneider’s “.200 hitter if you execute” line belonged to a version of Cal that opponents thought they already solved: expand down, live at the edges, dare him to chase. The modern Raleigh punishes missed spots, spoils the borderline pitch, and maybe, most importantly forces game-theory choices you don’t want to make in October. You can still beat him with perfect execution, sure. But perfect is a fickle business model.

Which brings us to the heart of it: pick your poison, don’t spill the vial. If the Jays challenge Raleigh, there’s a chance they walk back to the dugout with a baseball lodged somewhere in the flight path of the upper deck. If they don’t, they invite Julio and Polanco into run-producing leverage where they’ve thrived all year.

Schneider’s mea culpa about 2023 matters, but it won’t rescue 2025. The only way out is through.