Tarik Skubal isn't the scariest matchup for Mariners' George Kirby in ALDS Game 5

There’s no pretending the stage isn’t massive. Game 5 is a referendum on everything Seattle has built, run prevention, star power, the belief that this group is more than the sum of its streaks. Tarik Skubal is the headline act on the other side, a lefty with a blowtorch fastball and a ruthless plan, and A.J. Hinch has been here enough times to script many different paths to 27 outs. 

Dan Wilson, in his first year with the big chair, doesn’t have that postseason mileage. What he does have is a staff built for moments that hinge on execution, sequencing, and refusing to give an inch over the heart of the plate. That’s why the Mariners can look Skubal dead-on and say: tough draw, not a death sentence.

The hidden Game 5 threat for George Kirby vs. the Tigers

The real boogeyman isn’t the ace — it’s the matchup inside the matchup. George Kirby is as precise as they come, a strike-throwing metronome who bullies lineups with pace and command. But every metronome has a song that throws it off-beat, and in this series that tune belongs to Kerry Carpenter.

If you’ve watched these games, or checked the receipts, you know exactly why Mariners fans tense up when No. 30 steps in. Carpenter is 5-for-11 with five home runs off Kirby, and that’s not a fluke fueled by cheapies. The damage has stacked up in the same neighborhood: center-cut, belt-high, pitches that live too long in the middle of the zone. If Hinch wants to set an early tone, don’t be surprised if Carpenter is penciled in at the top of the order to maximize those looks.

So let’s say it plainly: the plan for Carpenter can’t be North–South. Kirby’s comfort zone is challenging ladders and kneecaps, toggling between four-seamers and two-seamers at the letters. Followed by splitters that fall through a trapdoor. Against Carpenter, the vertical game has fed too many barrels. The approach should be East–West: carve the edges with two-seamers and sliders that look like strikes until they don’t. Think lanes, not levels — keep him reaching across the plate or jamming himself, never letting him extend through something flat and firm.

That doesn’t mean timid. It means intentional. First-pitch strikes still matter, but first-pitch cookies will end the season. Expand off the plate when you’re ahead, steal a strike away rather than up, and be willing to stack same-side looks if Carpenter shows he’s hunting timing over shape. If Kirby gets to two strikes, the chase pitch should trace the outer third like a paintbrush. 

And if the moment is leverage-on-fire? There’s no shame in the Barry Bonds treatment. Put him on, reset the inning, and make the next Tiger prove he can flip the math.

None of this works without complementary defense and dugout discipline. Seattle’s infield needs to be ready for the contact Kirby will invite on the margins. Wilson’s bullpen hook has to be proactive, not punitive: if Carpenter’s spot is looming and Kirby’s life in the corners starts shrinking, have the lefty ready before the horns blare. And on the other side of the inning, yes, the Mariners have to make Skubal throw stress pitches — lengthen at-bats, foul off the turbo heater, and be patient on his changeup. But the game flips not on Skubal, rather on refusing Carpenter his pitch.

That’s the thesis, really. The Mariners don’t need Kirby to be perfect; they need him to be stubborn about location and ruthless about avoidance. Take the middle away from Carpenter. Live on the edges. Trade a walk for a heartbeat. If Seattle does that, Skubal becomes just another great pitcher in a coin-flip game, not the narrative’s final boss.