Orion Kerkering and J.T. Realmuto were talking the other day after working out at the Phillies’ spring-training complex.
“You know,” Kerkering said, “technically it wasn’t my fault.”
He tried to keep a straight face.
“Your hands were up … so, I’m going to throw it home.”
Kerkering smiled. They had a good laugh.
And the healing continued.
How do you live down a mistake that will stick with you for, well, probably forever? Laughing at yourself isn’t a bad place to start, at least after all the initial feelings and impulses — anger, disappointment, self-flagellation — washed over you.
When Phillies pitchers and catchers hold their first official workout Wednesday in Clearwater, Fla., it will have been 125 days since Kerkering bobbled a comebacker at his feet, tried to get an out at home instead of at first base, and lobbed it over Realmuto’s outstretched mitt, ending the Phillies’ season in the 11th inning of the fourth game of the division series.
It wasn’t the reason they lost to the Dodgers. It probably wasn’t even among the top 10 reasons. But it was only the second time ever that a playoff series ended on an error, and in the age of social media, clips of Kerkering’s blunder were everywhere.
“No matter what you do, whether it’s the internet, just basic browsing — even looking up a recipe or something — it’s going to be there. It’s like the first thing,” Kerkering said this week on The Inquirer’s Phillies Extra podcast. “It’s going to always be brought up. You can’t get around it. It’s always going to be stuck there.
“But I don’t want it to like define who I am as a ballplayer in the future.”
It shouldn’t define Kerkering, who has already made 136 appearances in the majors despite not turning 25 until April. But relievers, like football kickers, tend to be remembered for their missteps. Ask Mitch Williams. Brad Lidge, too.
Kerkering faced his head-on. After the game, he stood before a wall of cameras and, with red and swollen eyes, broke down what happened. Then, rather than jetting off to an island in the middle of the ocean to get a respite from seeing his errant throw over and over, he stayed in South Jersey until the week before Thanksgiving.
“I thought it was just important to kind of embrace what happened a little bit and just try to be in the area and not run away from your problems,” Kerkering said. “Just trying to understand why everything happened and try to digest everything in that moment.”
Kerkering didn’t know how people who recognized him in Wawa or at the gym would react. He found it to be quite the opposite of Williams, who received death threats after the Joe Carter homer in 1993, and recently deposed Eagles offensive coordinator Kevin Patullo, whose South Jersey house was egged in the midst of a December losing streak.
“It was just like, ‘Hey, you’re all good; we believe in you,’ and stuff like that,” Kerkering said. “What kind of took me off-guard is how many people, they know you messed up, they know you can do better next time, but how kind of supportive they are.”
Support came from other sources. Dave Dombrowski said the Phillies would offer the pitcher “whatever assistance he needs,” and Kerkering said the team’s mental health staff checked in on him. He heard from friends and former teammates and coaches.
At first, Kerkering avoided looking at his phone. But his dad, a sniper for 20 years in the Marines before becoming the emergency manager for the police department in Sarasota, Fla., has a saying that resonated.
“You’ve got to rip the Band-Aid off,’” Kerkering said. “It’s going to hurt, obviously. But the slower you do it, the more it’s going to be painful.”
After a week, Kerkering rewatched the play. He realizes now that he had more time than he thought after bobbling the ball and should’ve taken the easier out at first base. He has been told that he tends to rush things on the mound. It’s a flaw. It’s also correctable.
Lidge reached out, too, almost immediately. Although he and Kerkering hadn’t previously met, Lidge could relate. Three years before throwing the clinching pitch of the 2008 World Series for the Phillies, while with the Astros he gave up a crushing playoff homer to Albert Pujols. In 2009, he blew a save in the World Series against the Yankees.
“We had a good conversation, just kind of him explaining his experiences,” Kerkering said. “Everyone takes their time of getting over that hump. Some days are good, some days are bad. It’s how you get over that hump, even just in regular day-to-day life where it’s like, ‘What can you do to get over it?’
“Because it’s going to linger no matter what. But how can you internally fix it or fix that mindset moving forward?”
The Phillies brought back the core of the roster, including free agents Kyle Schwarber and Realmuto. But they gave the bullpen a makeover, notably signing free-agent right-hander Brad Keller and trading away veteran lefty Matt Strahm.
But Kerkering remains. He dominated in May and June, looking like a future closer. But the Phillies traded for star closer Jhoan Duran at the deadline in July, and Kerkering struggled through the summer. He regained his mojo late in the season and appeared in all four playoff games against the Dodgers.
“I don’t think I really had that good of a year,” said Kerkering, who finished with a 3.30 ERA in 60 innings. “It’s like, be more consistent with the heater, be more consistent with the sinker, get the sweeper back to what it was in ’23, ’24, how dominant it was, and kind of get more guys to swing.”
Team officials believe in Kerkering’s stuff. As important, they believe in his head.
Kerkering is aware of his reputation within the clubhouse as “a goofy kind of kid.” Former Phillies reliever Jeff Hoffman once described him as having “no filter” and keeping everyone on their toes with what comes out of his mouth next.
Teammates say Kerkering takes his job seriously, but not himself. So, rather than dwelling on a season-ending mistake, he’s intent on learning from it — and occasionally making light of it.
“You just kind of live and forget with it,” Kerkering said. “We’ve all made mistakes. Mine just so happened to be in front of whatever, 10 million people, between watching it, hearing about it around the whole country. However you want to look at it, it [stinks].
“But I think, just overall, it’s like, if that’s how someone wants to define you, then let them. But I’m not going to let it define me.”
