Inside Baseball's Dangerous Obsession With the 100-MPH Fastball

It's baseball's deal: if a pitcher can throw 100MPH, he'll become an instant star - and then, almost certainly, he'll be destroyed.

- Hunter Atkins

When Bruce Rondon’s name was announced to the crowd, only 10 to 15 people clapped—a less-than-warm reception compared to the one that greeted his better-known teammates. But this was the largest stage on which he’d played—the 2012 All-Star Futures Game, an annual Minor League Baseball showcase that features the most promising players who have yet to make the majors—and he intended to stand out. When I go out to pitch, he thought, I know they will applaud for me.

The game was a blowout by the time Rondon entered, in the bottom of the 8th. Then the 6'3", 275-pound Venezuelan right-hander did his thing. His first pitch raced past the batter at a speed clocked at 102 mph. Fans perked up. He fired off three more that reached 101 mph, striking out two batters. As he swaggered off the field, the crowd rose for a standing ovation. Rondon’s takeaway: “When I don’t throw 100, the people are normal,” he says, speaking Spanish through a translator. “That gives me a little more motivation to throw harder.” A year later, he debuted with the Detroit Tigers, and a major league–leading 25.57 percent of his pitches were at triple-digit velocity. He topped out at 102.8 mph.

The speed made Rondon a star, because baseball lusts for the 100-mph arm. It is seductive. All pitchers want it. Scouts flock by the hundreds to small towns based on rumors of it. Coaches are willing to work with even the most undisciplined players who have it. Executives dream about developing it. And spectators and players alike lose their minds whenever they see it.

“A pitcher, you throw 100 miles per hour, you are the shit,” says Omar Vizquel, who played 24 years and now coaches with Detroit.