The tragedies that shaped Michael Conlan
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Mark KriegelESPN
Editor’s note: This story was originally published in March 2019 ahead of Conlan’s fight against Ruben Garcia.
BELFAST, Northern Ireland — Everybody wants to be Irish on St. Patrick’s Day.
Unless you’re a fighter. Then you always want to be Irish.
It’s good business, after all. Freddie Roach — who’s, in fact, of French-Canadian ancestry — will be the first to tell you, he sold a lot more tickets as “Irish” Freddie Roach.
This isn’t new, either. Perhaps you don’t recall Mushy Callahan, one of the first 140-pound champions, but you’ll admit it’s a better nom de guerre than Moishe Scheer, as he was born on the Lower East Side of New York City.
Boxing is a sport of immigrants. So maybe there’s some misguided romanticization for a time when they sprang forth from the steerage class, that holy trinity of white ethnics. Still, we don’t dwell on Jewish fighters. Or Italian ones. But the idea of the Irish fighter endures.
The Fighting Irish. Before they were a football team, they were a famous regiment — memorialized by Joyce Kilmer, himself a poet killed in battle.
Perhaps, then, it speaks to something ancestral.
So here comes Michael Conlan, 27, just 10-0, but already headlining his third consecutive St. Patrick’s Day card at the Garden (yes, albeit the small Garden) when he will fight Ruben Garcia (25-3-1). You’ve probably heard the story by now: having won bronze at the London Olympics, he was favored to win gold in Rio. Instead, following an epically bad decision, Conlan identifies the Olympic judges with his middle finger, and tweets at Vladimir Putin. Looking back, those acts were as profitable as they were profane. Seven months hence, Conor McGregor famously attends his debut, the first of his consecutive sellouts at the Hulu Theater.
Would it have all fallen into place if he were, say, from Azerbaijan?
No.
But you don’t have to love Conlan because he’s Irish. There are other reasons.
What catches the eye in and around 93 Cavendish Street — a neat, narrow row home where the Conlan boys came of age — are those splashes of fluorescence every few blocks: the murals. Most of them remain as they were during The Troubles — the last iteration of a centuries-old conflict between Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland. This being a Catholic neighborhood, those memorialized were Republicans: the hunger striker Bobby Sands, the Gibraltar Three, IRA soldiers shot by British special forces and the so-called blanket protesters, who refused to wear the prison garb of common criminals.
Protestant neighborhoods on the other side of the “peace wall” have their own murals, their own fallen heroes. To an outsider, it’s difficult to keep score, to know the martyred from the murdered, the victims from the villains. But taken together the murals tell a single story: a history of the dead.
While the Good Friday peace accords were signed in 1998, when Conlan was only 7, the family had already seen its share of trouble. Michael’s mother, Teresa, was hit by a rubber bullet. Her husband, John, who hails from Dublin, was regularly brought in for questioning. A British Army barracks on the corner of Cavendish and Violet streets didn’t leave the Conlans feeling very protected. What Michael recalls most vividly, however, was the petrol bomb.
“Seen someone going on fire,” he says. “I was probably about 9.”
Aside from murals, what Belfast had in abundance were boxing gyms. “In a five-mile radius,” Michael says, “there’s like between 18 and 20 clubs.”
Jamie, the eldest Conlan brother who is also a professional boxer, says “we’re a nation born into fighting, especially in the north of Ireland.
“A boxing club was a way to express what we felt inside,” Jamie said. “You don’t understand where you’re getting this aggression — this kind of raw, animalistic wanting to let your hands go. You don’t understand why you’re throwing punches.”
John Conlan, who had been an amateur fighter in Dublin and is now coach of the esteemed Irish national team, had his own take.
“I don’t think we’re an aggressive race,” he said. “I just think we understand that piece in the ring: that little piece, man-to-man, face-to-face.”
If Jamie had a crazy kind of courage, Michael — five years his junior — had something else: innate, unusual, a sense of the ever-changing distance in the ring, the calculus of combat. He had a head for it, too.
“He knew instantly how to evade punches,” Jamie recalls. “He understood it’s not about who’s the hardest or the strongest or the most aggressive … it’s about knowing how to twist, how to mentally open you up, and then I’ll hit you.
“I remember Michael sticking his tongue out at a kid. They were only 10. … There was a wee crowd, and Michael understood he had to get him wound up, [to] embarrass him. … Soon as the guy lost his cool, Michael knew he’d won. The guy tried to headbutt him, and by then Michael was just playing with him. You don’t see that every day.”
By early adolescence, Conlan was on his way to establishing himself as Ireland’s best-ever male amateur fighter. The wins and losses would eventually tally 248-14, by his own account, and include gold medals at the World Championships, the European Championships and the Commonwealth Games, not to mention the two Olympic appearances. It was a storied journey that took him from India to Ankara to Azerbaijan, but it was back in Belfast where he took most of his losses.
He wasn’t alone. Conlan came of age with a generation that exchanged one set of troubles for another, drugs and booze.
“When the conflict was on, there were very, very little drugs in the neighborhood,” John recalls. “People got executed very quickly if they were antisocial. But when the conflict stopped, it seemed to quickly spiral out of control. … Young lads in the club would talk about being on four-, five-day benders.”
From age 13, Michael was doing cocaine, ecstasy and popping prescription pills. He’d often work out drunk, on vodka and Red Bull. It was a double life, carefully concealed from his parents and Jamie, or else they might cause him grievous bodily harm.
He won’t, however, concede that any of this had anything to do with seeing a man set on fire. “I just wanted to do what everybody else was doing,” he says. “I thought I was missing out.”
Maybe it was drug testing at the Commonwealth Games that started him toward sobriety. Certainly, it had something to do with Jamie, who recalls a night when Michael was out suspiciously late. A friend had spotted him drinking and let Jamie know.
The big brother got in his car, caught Michael at the aforementioned location, and began to unload.
“I gave him a slap. Actually more than a slap,” Jamie says. “I had to do it in front of his friends. To let them know, you can’t f— around.”
Then he drove his kid brother back to Cavendish Street and “beat him up and down the house.”
It wasn’t merely drugs and alcohol, though. There were other perils for kids from the north in the new millennium.
In the spring of 2008, Irish and English teams were set to meet at the Balmoral Hotel in Belfast. Kieran Farrell, a rough and aggressive fighter out of Manchester, seemed perfectly suited for Michael’s style.
“I was confident Michael was going to outbox him,” John says. As it happened, Michael didn’t outbox Farrell. In fact, he didn’t box at all. “He seemed to take punches willingly.”
Between rounds, he told his son he would stop the fight unless Michael began returning fire. He did, for a while, in a listless sort of way. Then he resumed taking punches. Suddenly, it dawned on the horrified father: “Michael wanted to feel pain.”
Afterward, Michael contemplated one of his rare losses and claimed not to care. Still, he wept as he said it. Turned out a friend of his had committed suicide.
“This was how he expressed his sorrow for the passing,” John says. “By letting somebody hit him.”
The way Michael heard, it had to do with drug money: “He didn’t know how to get out of paying these debts. Then, the only way he thought he could was killing himself.”
Chances are, if it weren’t drugs, it would’ve been something else. There have been more deaths by suicide in Northern Ireland since 1998, than there were from all the killings, assassinations and bombings during The Troubles. For all the horrors of that era, says Teresa Conlan, “There was a sense of community, a sense of belonging. And I think now that that’s gone. … There’s this loneliness. Depression sets in. The aftermath of what actually happened. … OK, you’re just supposed to be normal now?”
Michael stopped counting the number of friends he lost by suicide: “About 10…15…maybe more.” Wakes. Cemeteries. Funerals. After a while, he stopped going. He’d already spent enough time in the kingdom of the dead.
At 17, he came home with a tattoo: rosary beads and a crucifix around his neck, clearly intended to be seen. It was a religious marking, but it wasn’t political. It was an affirmation of who he was. And where he was going.
His father, recalling how difficult it was for Catholics in Northern Ireland to get work under the best of circumstances, was inconsolable. “You’ve destroyed your body,” he said. “You’ll never get a job.”
“I don’t need a job,” Michael said. “I’m going to be a fighter.”
So, what saved Michael Conlan?
That beating from his brother Jamie certainly helped. And the one from Kieran Farrell, too.
“Losing helped,” Michael says. “Losing brought me back to reality.”
So did the love of his parents.
The idea that boxing saved him is only partially true. As any fighter knows, no one can really save you but yourself. Outside of that, the best you can do is set a decent example.
Toward that end, Michael recalls the summer of 2012. He couldn’t have known what would lie ahead: the Garden, the bad decision in Rio, an American promoter cutting him a check. He’d just returned from London, 20 years old and despondent. The bronze medal seemed a great victory for everyone except Michael himself. It wasn’t gold, he thought. And then he saw something from the car: a burst of color on the corner of Violet and Cavendish streets, where the British Army barracks used to be.
It’s not a perfect likeness. But that’s not the point. Here was a fighter, but not a soldier. In West Belfast, Michael Conlan’s was the first mural its kind. In a kingdom of the dead, he was alive, full of ambition and possibility.
There’s reason enough to root for Michael Conlan.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day.
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Bradford Doolittle
The 3,000-strikeout club has grown by one, with Clayton Kershaw of the Los Angeles Dodgers whiffing the Chicago White Sox‘s Vinny Capra in the sixth inning Wednesday at Dodger Stadium, becoming the 20th pitcher in baseball history to reach that milestone.
The 3K pitching club doesn’t generate as much hullabaloo as its hitting counterpart, but it is more exclusive: Thirty-three players have reached 3,000 hits.
When you look at the list of pitchers with 3,000 strikeouts, and Kershaw’s place on it, a few things jump out.
• None of them pitched at Ebbets Field, at least not in a regular-season game. I frame it like that to illustrate that this level of whiffery is a fairly recent phenomenon. The Dodgers bolted Brooklyn after the 1957 season, and at that point, Walter Johnson was the only member of the 3,000-strikeout club. A career Washington Senator, he never pitched against the Dodgers. Every other 3K member made his big league debut in 1959 or later. Half of them debuted in 1984 or later. Three of them (Kershaw, Max Scherzer and Justin Verlander) are active.
• For now, Kershaw has thrown the fewest career innings of any 3K member, though he’s likely to eventually end up with more frames than Pedro Martinez.
• Kershaw has the highest winning percentage of the 20 (.697) and the best ERA+ (155), though his edges over Martinez (.685 and 154) are razor thin.
• Kershaw tops the list in average game score (61.9) and is tied for second (with Bob Gibson) for quality start percentage (68%), behind only Tom Seaver (70%).
• Kershaw lags behind in bWAR, at least among this group of current, future and should-be Hall of Famers with 77.1, ranking 16th.
So where does Kershaw really rank in the 3K club? I’m glad you asked.
First, what should be obvious from the above bullet points is that the response to the question will vary according to how you choose to answer it. The ranking below reflects not only how I chose to answer the question but how I’d like to see starting pitchers rated in general — even today, in the wildly different context from the days of Walter Johnson.
1. Roger Clemens
FWP: 568.8 | Strikeouts: 4,672 (3rd in MLB history)
Game score W-L: 477-230 (.675)
The top three pitchers on the list, including Rocket, match the modern-era top three for all pitchers, not just the 3K guys. (The string is broken by fourth-place Christy Mathewson.) Before running the numbers, I figured Walter Johnson, with his modern-era record of 417 career wins (the old-fashioned variety), would top the list. But Clemens actually started more games (relief appearances don’t factor in) and had a better game score win percentage.
2. Randy Johnson
FWP: 532.9 | Strikeouts: 4,875 (2nd)
Game score W-L: 421-182 (.698)
Since we’re lopping off pre-1901 performances, the method does Cy Young dirty. Only two pitchers — Young (511 wins) and Walter Johnson got to 400 career wins by the traditional method. By the game score method, the club grows to nine, including a bunch of players many of us actually got to see play. The Big Unit is one of the new 400-game winners, and of the nine, his game score winning percentage is the highest. The only thing keeping Johnson from No. 1 on this list is that he logged 104 fewer career starts than Clemens.
3. Walter Johnson
FWP: 494.7 | Strikeouts: 3,509 (9th)
Game score W-L: 437-229 (.656)
Don’t weep for the Big Train — even this revamping of his century-old performance record and the fixation on strikeouts can’t dim his greatness. That fact we mentioned in the introduction — that every 3K member except Walter Johnson debuted in 1959 or later — tells you a lot about just how much he was a man out of his time. Johnson retired after the 1927 season and surpassed 3,000 strikeouts by whiffing Cleveland’s Stan Coveleski on July 22, 1923. It was nearly 51 years before Gibson became 3K member No. 2 on July 17, 1974.
4. Greg Maddux
FWP: 443.3 | Strikeouts: 3,371 (12th)
Game score W-L: 453-287 (.612)
There is a stark contrast between pitcher No. 4 and pitcher No. 5 on this ranking. The wild thing about Maddux ranking above Nolan Ryan in a group selected for strikeouts is that no one thinks of Maddux as a strikeout pitcher. He never led a league in whiffs and topped 200 just once (204 in 1998). He was just an amazingly good pitcher for a really long time.
5. Nolan Ryan
FWP: 443.1 | Strikeouts: 5,714 (1st)
Game score W-L: 467-306 (.604)
Ryan is without a doubt the greatest strikeout pitcher who ever lived, and it’s really hard to imagine someone surpassing him. This is a guy who struck out his first six batters in 1966, when Lyndon Johnson was in the White House, and his last 46 in 1993, when Bill Clinton was there. Ryan was often criticized during his heyday for his win-loss record, but the game score method clears that right up. Ryan’s revised winning percentage (.604) is markedly higher than his actual percentage (.526).
6. Max Scherzer
FWP: 385.7 | Strikeouts: 3,419 (11th)
Game score W-L: 315-145 (.685)
Here’s another club Mad Max is in: .680 or better game score winning percentage, minimum 100 career starts. He’s one of just eight members, along with Kershaw. The list is topped by Smoky Joe Wood, who dominated the AL during the 1910s before hurting his arm and converting into a full-time outfielder. The full list: Wood, Martinez, Randy Johnson, Lefty Grove, Mathewson, Kershaw, Stephen Strasburg and Scherzer.
7. Justin Verlander
FWP: 385.0 | Strikeouts: 3,471 (10th)
Game score W-L: 349-190 (.647)
Like Scherzer, Verlander is fresh off the injured list. Thus, the two active leaders in our version of FWP have resumed their tight battle for permanent supremacy. Both also resume their quests to become the 10th and 11th pitchers to reach 3,500 strikeouts. Verlander, who hasn’t earned a traditional win in 13 starts, is 4-9 this season by the game score method.
8. Pedro Martinez
FWP: 383.5 | Strikeouts: 3,154 (15th)
Game score W-L: 292-117 (.714)
By so many measures, Martinez is one of the greatest of all time, even if his career volume didn’t reach the same levels as those of the others on the list. His 409 career starts are easily the fewest of the 3K club. But he has the highest game score winning percentage and, likewise, the highest score for FWP per start (.938).
9. Steve Carlton
FWP: 379.8 | Strikeouts: 4,136 (4th)
Game score W-L: 420-289 (.592)
When you think of Lefty, you think of his 1972 season, when he went 27-10 (traditional method) for a Phillies team that went 59-97. What does the game score method think of that season? It hates it. Kidding! No, Carlton, as you’d expect, dominated, going 32-9. So think of it like this: There were 32 times in 1972 that Carlton outpitched his starting counterpart despite the lethargic offense behind him.
10. Tom Seaver
FWP: 371.3 | Strikeouts: 3,640 (6th)
Game score W-L: 391-256 (.604)
Perhaps no other pitcher of his time demonstrated a more lethal combination of dominance and consistency than Seaver. The consistency is his historical differentiator. As mentioned, his career quality start percentage (70%) is tops among this group. Among all pitchers with at least 100 career starts, he ranks fifth. Dead ball era pitchers get a leg up in this stat, so the leader is the fairly anonymous Jeff Tesreau (72%), a standout for John McGraw’s New York Giants during the 1910s. The others ahead of Seaver are a fascinating bunch. One is Babe Ruth, and another is Ernie Shore, who in 1917 relieved Ruth when The Babe was ejected after walking a batter to start a game. Shore replaced him, picked off the batter who walked, then went on to retire all 26 batters he faced. The other ahead of Seaver: Jacob deGrom.
11. Clayton Kershaw
FWP: 370.9 | Strikeouts: 3,000 (20th)
Game score W-L: 301-137 (.687)
And here’s the guest of honor, our reason for doing this ranking exercise. As you can see, Kershaw joined the 300-game-score win club in his last start before Wednesday’s milestone game, becoming the 38th member. In so many measures of dominance, consistency and efficiency, Kershaw ranks as one of the very best pitchers of all time. When you think that he, Verlander and Scherzer are all in the waning years of Hall of Fame careers, you can’t help but wonder who, if anyone, is going to join some of the elite starting pitching statistical clubs in the future.
12. Don Sutton
FWP: 370.6 | Strikeouts: 3,574 (7th)
Game score W-L: 437-319 (.578)
For a post-dead ball pitcher, Sutton was a model of durability. He ranks third in career starts (756) and seventh in innings (5,283⅓). During the first 15 seasons of his career, Sutton started 31 or more games 14 times and threw at least 207 innings for the Dodgers in every season.
13. Ferguson Jenkins
FWP: 353.8 | Strikeouts: 3,192 (14th)
Game score W-L: 363-231 (.611)
Jenkins is in the Hall of Fame, so we can’t exactly say he was overlooked. Still, it does feel like he’s a bit underrated on the historical scale. His FWP score ranks 17th among all pitchers, and the game score method gives him a significant win-loss boost. That .611 percentage you see here is a good bit higher than his actual .557 career winning percentage. He just didn’t play for very many good teams and, in fact, never appeared in the postseason. He’s not the only Hall of Famer associated with the Chicago Cubs who suffered that fate.
14. Gaylord Perry
FWP: 335.6 | Strikeouts: 3,534 (8th)
Game score W-L: 398-292 (.577)
Perry, famous for doing, uh, whatever it takes to win a game, famously hung around past his expiration date to get to 300 wins, and he ended up with 314. Poor Perry: If my game score method had been in effect, he’d have quit two wins shy of 400. Would someone have given him a shot at getting there in 1984, when he was 45? One of history’s great what-if questions.
15. Phil Niekro
FWP: 332.5 | Strikeouts: 3,342 (13th)
Game score W-L: 408-308 (.570)
Knucksie won 318 games, and lost 274, the type of career exemplified by his 1979 season, when he went 21-20. We aren’t likely to see anyone again pair a 20-win season with a 20-loss season. His .537 traditional winning percentage improves with the game score method, but he’s still the low man in the 3K club in that column. Niekro joins Ryan and Sutton on the list of those with 300 game score losses. Sutton, at 319, is the leader. The others: Tommy John, Tom Glavine and Jamie Moyer. Of course, they were all safely over the 300-game-score win threshold as well.
16. CC Sabathia
FWP: 323.2 | Strikeouts: 3,093 (18th)
Game score W-L: 339-221 (.605)
Sabathia will be inducted into the Hall of Fame next month, and his place in this group only underscores how deserving he is of that honor. Sabathia debuted in 2001, and to reach the 250 traditional-win level (he won 251) in this era is an amazing feat. The only pitcher in that club who debuted later is Verlander, stuck at 262 wins after debuting in 2005. Right now, it’s hard to imagine who, if anyone, will be next. Of course, if we just went with game score wins, that would be different.
17. Bob Gibson
FWP: 321.0 | Strikeouts: 3,117 (16th)
Game score W-L: 305-177 (.633)
Gibson, incidentally, also won 251 games — and also gets enough boost from the game score method to climb over 300. His revised percentage is better than his traditional mark of .591. His average game score ranks third in this group, a reflection of his steady dominance but also of the era in which he pitched. Gibson is tied for eighth in quality start percentage among all pitchers. In 1968, when Gibson owned the baseball world with a 1.12 ERA, he went 22-9 by the traditional method. The game score method: 26-8. You’d think it would be even better, but it was, after all, the Year of the Pitcher.
18. Bert Blyleven
FWP: 320.2 | Strikeouts: 3,701 (5th)
Game score W-L: 391-294 (.571)
It took a prolonged campaign by statheads to raise awareness about Blyleven’s greatness and aid his eventual Cooperstown induction. He finished with 287 traditional wins, short of the historical benchmark. Here he would fall short of the 400-win benchmark, but, nevertheless, he is tied with John and Seaver for 11th on the game score wins list. His actual winning percentage was .534.
19. Curt Schilling
FWP: 307.1 | Strikeouts: 3,116 (17th)
Game score W-L: 281-155 (.644)
There are 31 pitchers who have broken the 300 FWP level, and it’s hard for me to imagine how anyone in that group could be left out of Cooperstown. You can sort this out for yourself in terms of baseball and not baseball reasons for this, but the group not there is Clemens, Schilling, John and Andy Pettitte, plus the greats (Kershaw, Verlander, Scherzer) who are still active.
20. John Smoltz
FWP: 273.8 | Strikeouts: 3,084 (19th)
Game score W-L: 290-191 (.603)
Smoltz won 213 games the traditional way, and he falls just short of 300 by the revised method. But all of this is about starting pitching, and with Smoltz, that overlooks a lot. After missing the 2000 season because of injury, he returned as a reliever, and for four seasons he was one of the best, logging 154 saves during that time. He’s the only member of the 200-win, 100-save club.
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Alden Gonzalez
LOS ANGELES — Clayton Kershaw‘s 3,000th career strikeout was preceded by a scary, dispiriting moment, when Los Angeles Dodgers third baseman Max Muncy injured his left knee and had to be helped off the field Wednesday night.
Muncy is set to undergo an MRI on Thursday, but Dodgers manager Dave Roberts said initial tests have them feeling “optimistic” and that the “hope” is Muncy only sustained a sprain.
With one out in the sixth inning, Muncy jumped to catch a throw from Dodgers catcher Will Smith, then tagged out Chicago White Sox center fielder Michael A. Taylor on an attempted steal and immediately clutched his left knee, prompting a visit from Roberts and head trainer Thomas Albert.
Muncy wrapped his left arm around Albert and walked toward the third-base dugout, replaced by Enrique Hernandez. His injury, caused by Taylor’s helmet slamming into the side of his left knee on a headfirst slide, was so gruesome that the team’s broadcast opted not to show a replay.
Taylor also exited the game with what initially was diagnosed as a left trap contusion.
The Dodgers went on to win 5-4 on Freddie Freeman‘s walk-off single that scored Shohei Ohtani.
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Alden Gonzalez
LOS ANGELES — His start prolonged, the whiffs remained elusive, and the Dodger Stadium crowd became increasingly concerned that Clayton Kershaw might not reach a hallowed milestone in front of them Wednesday. Finally, with two outs in the sixth inning, on his 100th pitch of the night, it happened — an outside-corner slider to freeze Chicago White Sox third baseman Vinny Capra and make Kershaw the 20th member of the 3,000-strikeout club.
Kershaw came off the mound and waved his cap to a sold-out crowd that had risen in appreciation. His teammates then greeted him on the field, dispersing hugs before a tribute video played on the scoreboard, after which Kershaw spilled out of the dugout to greet the fans once more.
Kershaw, the Los Angeles Dodgers‘ longtime ace, is just the fourth lefty to reach 3,000 strikeouts, joining Randy Johnson, Steve Carlton and CC Sabathia. He is one of just five pitchers to accumulate that many with one team, along with Walter Johnson, Bob Gibson, Steve Carlton and John Smoltz. The only other active pitchers who reached 3,000 strikeouts are the two who have often been lumped with Kershaw among the greatest pitchers of this era: Justin Verlander and Max Scherzer, the latter of whom reached the milestone as a member of the Dodgers in September 2021.
Kershaw’s first strikeout accounted for the first out of the third inning — immediately after Austin Slater’s two-run homer gave the White Sox a 3-2 lead. Former Dodger Miguel Vargas fell behind in the count 0-2, becoming the ninth batter to get to two strikes against Kershaw, then swung through a curveball low and away. The next strikeout, No. 2,999 of his career, came on his season-high-tying 92nd pitch of the night, a curveball that landed well in front of home plate and induced a swing-and-miss from Lenyn Sosa to end the fifth inning.
Dodgers manager Dave Roberts did not even look at Kershaw as he made his way back into the dugout, a clear sign that Kershaw would not be taken out. The crowd erupted as Kershaw took the mound for the start of the sixth inning. Mike Tauchman grounded out and Michael A. Taylor hit a double, then was caught stealing on a play that prompted Dodgers third baseman Max Muncy to come down hard on his left knee, forcing him to be helped off the field.
The mood suddenly turned somber at Dodger Stadium. Then, four pitches later, came elation.
Kershaw reached 3,000 strikeouts in 2,787⅓ innings, making him the fourth-fastest player to reach the mark, according to research from the Elias Sports Bureau. The only ones who got there with fewer innings were Johnson (2,470⅔), Scherzer (2,516) and Pedro Martinez (2,647⅔).
The Dodgers came back to win 5-4, capping their rally with three runs in the bottom of the ninth.
Before the game, Roberts called the 3,000-strikeout milestone “the last box” of a Hall of Fame career — one whose spot in Cooperstown had already been cemented by three Cy Young Awards, 10 All-Star Games, an MVP, five ERA titles and more than 200 wins.
Kershaw’s 2.51 ERA is the lowest in the Live Ball era (since 1920) among those with at least 1,500 innings, even though Kershaw has nearly doubled that. He was a force early, averaging 200 innings and 218 strikeouts per season from 2010 to 2019. And he was a wonder late, finding ways to continually keep opposing lineups in check with his body aching and his fastball down into the high 80s.
Kershaw went on the injured list at least once every year from 2016 to 2024. A foot injury made him a spectator last October, when the Dodgers claimed their second championship in five years. The following month, Kershaw underwent surgery to repair a torn meniscus in his left knee and a ruptured plantar plate in his left big toe, then re-signed with the Dodgers and joined the rotation in mid-May. He allowed five runs in four innings in his debut but went 4-0 with a 2.08 ERA in his next seven starts, stabilizing a shorthanded rotation that remains without Blake Snell, Tyler Glasnow, Roki Sasaki and Tony Gonsolin.
Since the start of 2021, Kershaw has somehow managed to put up the sixth-lowest ERA among those with at least 400 innings.
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