CHAPEL HILL, N.C. — It’s the top of the 11th inning of an early March baseball game at North Carolina. With a runner on first and two outs, a Coastal Carolina batter laces a single through the right side of the infield. The Tar Heels’ right fielder bobbles the ball, then slips. The runner barrels around third toward home, where catcher Luke Stevenson awaits.

The relay throw naturally takes Stevenson to the third base side of home plate, into the path of the runner diving headfirst. Stevenson slaps a tag between his shoulder blades, shows the umpire the mitted ball and erupts into a fist pump. The game remains tied. In the bottom half of the inning, UNC wins on a sacrifice fly.

The Tar Heels went on to claim an ACC title, where Stevenson was named MVP. They hosted and won an NCAA tournament regional, rose to No. 1 in Division I, then fell at home to Arizona in a super regional and missed returning to the Men’s College World Series for the second consecutive year. Days later, Stevenson, a draft-eligible sophomore, reported to Phoenix for the MLB combine. Depending on who you ask, Stevenson is the first or second-best pure catcher and a consensus mock top-35 pick for the 2025 MLB draft, which begins July 13 (6 p.m. ET on ESPN).

Stevenson and other catchers with MLB potential have long been evaluated on how well they manage pitchers, frame pitches and lead a team’s defense — including directing positioning and keeping runners from stealing and scoring. But MLB general managers and player personnel say dual-threat backstops such as Seattle’s Cal Raleigh, an AL MVP favorite, now rank as the standard bearers for players in the pipeline to baseball’s major leagues. The gap between a catcher with All-Star potential and one who could hold down the position at a replacement level is glaringly obvious.

What might not be so obvious, however, is just how much MLB’s 2023 rules changes are now influencing how the position is being taught, played, coached and scouted at all levels of the game — and just how much of a premium is being placed on the offensive abilities of catchers such as Stevenson or Coastal Carolina’s Caden Bodine, another likely early draft pick.

From high school and youth ball to college and the minor leagues, a shift has already begun. In fundamental ways, the value of the position itself is being reframed — and Stevenson is a fitting avatar for catchers joining the professional ranks at a time when their livelihoods are in flux, their success most likely dictated by their capacity to adapt to this new reality.

“I don’t want to say it’s a dying position, [but] the bar for a being a good catcher offensively is so low,” said one MLB director of amateur scouting. “You could be an everyday catcher if you hit .210 with 10 home runs. [But] if you hit .210 with 30 home runs and a Platinum Glove? You’re a superstar.”

Jim Koerner, USA Baseball’s director of player development, said it’s still imperative for catchers to wield “middle-infield hands” and a strong arm to be an MLB starter.

“[But] in five years,” he said, “once they institute robo umps, I think it’s going to be completely an offensive position.”

AHEAD OF THE 2023 MLB season, at the behest of on-field consultant and former Chicago Cubs and Boston Red Sox president Theo Epstein, the league instituted a slew of rule changes intended to energize a purportedly staling sport. Baseball banned defensive shifts, instituted a pitch clock, limited mound disengagements to two per plate appearance and widened the bases from 15 inches to 18 inches — all changes first tested in the minor leagues.

The dividends were immediate. In 2023, runners stole 3,503 bases and upped it to 3,617 last season, the most in 109 years and the third most in any MLB season. The average game time fell to 2 hours, 36 minutes in 2024, the quickest in 40 years. Attendance and television engagement records were set in 2023 and broken in 2024.

Just as quickly, it became harder for catchers to stop runners from stealing. Catchers faced an increase of nearly 12 and 14 more stolen base attempts a season in 2023 and 2024, respectively, than in 2022. Exchange times and pop times increased exponentially to compensate, as did the speed at which catchers throw on steal attempts. But runners are faster and — owed to new limited disengagements rules for pitchers — closer to their would-be stolen bases than ever.

From 2016 to 2022, the lowest average caught stealing percentage for a single season among qualified catchers was 22.28% in 2021. In 2023 it was 17.43% and, last season, it was 18.78%. Through July 7, MLB runners have stolen 1,947 bases, on pace to eclipse 2024’s total. The Minnesota Twins stole an MLB-low 65 bases in 2024; 14 teams already have more in 2025.

Jerry Weinstein, a Chicago Cubs catching consultant, said pitchers get the ball to the plate in the 1.3-second range, and catchers’ pop times are between 1.8 and 2.0 seconds.

“There’s nothing we can do to improve that, that’s a staple,” Weinstein said. “The average runner runs 3.35, one-tenth of a second for the tag … it’s a math problem. If the baserunner is perfect, and the catcher and pitcher are perfect based on those parameters, the guy’s going to be safe most of the time. Which is exactly what we’re seeing.”

But one MLB director of player development said even with the rise in stolen bases’ effect on strategy, the best batteries still control how efficiently they get outs.

“From an analytic standpoint, swinging the count in your favor is more valuable than defending the stolen base,” the player development director said. “Ninety feet matters in certain situations, [but] some teams don’t even care. They’d rather have a guy execute his stuff: High leg kick, deliver the stuff, go for the punch out.”

Behind the plate, he said, there’s a different catching archetype than there was 25 years ago. They’re now bigger, taller and can get under the ball with a one-knee-down stance behind the plate. But, unlike the days when an offensive juggernaut catcher was a rarity — Mike Piazza and Carlton Fisk, or dual-threats like Johnny Bench, Ivan Rodriguez and Yogi Berra — now an adept offensive catcher can separate himself from a logjam.

“If you can’t hit,” he said, “you’re going to have a hard time sticking around.”

From both 1991-1998 and 1999-2007, there were eight MLB catchers (at least 50% of games at catcher) with three or more .800 OPS, 10-home run, 50-RBI seasons. From 2008-2015, that number fell to five. From 2016 through 2024, there were three.

“The offensive product is incredibly low, the physical demands very high, and what we value in catching has changed so much and is on the precipice of changing again,” said a director of amateur scouting. “We put so much value on catchers being able to frame pitches and get extra strikes … and the minute that goes away, that drastically changes how we evaluate amateur and professional catchers.”

When organizations find offensive-minded catchers who are capable behind the plate, they tend to hold onto them.

“It’s getting harder and harder to find those guys that are really offensive, they’re few and far between,” a director of amateur scouting said. “You name one, then I’ll name one. I guarantee it’s going to be a short list.”

Another director of amateur scouting said part of what makes some catchers in this year’s draft so valuable is that they can catch and potentially be a standout offensive performer.

“You don’t want [a catcher you draft in the first round] to have a position change a year and a half down the road,” the scout said. “You’re going to move him to first base or left field, and now the offensive bar is so much higher there.”

Which is why some MLB scouts are high on Stevenson and think he can handle the adjustments the position now requires. He was steady behind home plate for North Carolina, a great blocker but below-average receiver. But it’s what the 6-foot-1, 210-pound, left-handed hitting All-America catcher did with his bat that has drawn the attention of MLB scouts: Among Division I catchers who have caught 90 games since 2024, Stevenson ranked second in home runs (33), third in runs (104) and sixth in OPS (.960). He drew 29 more walks (107) than any other catcher while having the second-best chase rate (17.2%) and second-most pitches per plate appearance (4.09).

Although some MLB scouts and player development personnel have raised questions about Stevenson’s glove and whether he could thrive behind the plate at the sport’s top level, others say his power and discerning eye come at such a premium that defensive concerns are secondary and correctable. One director of amateur scouting said Stevenson’s floor is backup catcher at the MLB level.

One executive of a team with a top-10 draft pick said Stevenson is in the mix that high because his defensive technique is easily adjustable, but an eye and bat like that at a position such as catcher is too rare to pass up.

“You could be an outstanding defensive catcher, but if you can’t hit a lick, it’s hard to make a roster as an everyday player,” he said.

“Hardest position to evaluate,” another director of amateur scouting said, “amateur catcher.”

He compared the predraft evaluation to college quarterbacks trying to play in the NFL: “Can you transition? With edge rushers, you have less than three seconds to get rid of the ball — same for a catcher, you want him to be better than two and to be able to throw it on the bag. Guys that are 1.78, 1.83, 1.85? They can get away with a higher throw, but the 2.0 guys have to be perfect. It takes a special human being to do it and do it for many years.”

Steve Rodriguez, Stanford University’s catching coach, was Trevor Bauer and Gerritt Cole’s catcher at UCLA before spending six seasons in the Atlanta Braves and Arizona Diamondbacks organizations. He lauded Stevenson’s prowess with a bat and said he is underrated behind the plate.

“[With] his ability and size to be light on his feet and his knees … I watch him and he can scrape the dirt with that knee down so easily: That means his balance and flexibility is at a high level,” Rodriguez said. “When you’re able to do that with the skill set he has with his hands, you have a pretty phenomenal player.”

Stevenson said UNC catching coach Jesse Wierzbicki, a former UNC starting catcher who played in the Houston Astros minor league system, hammered receiving and blocking drills all season — footwork, transfers to second base, stealing strikes. He also had inspiration at home.

“You’ve got eight guys staring at you, being a leader on that field, directing traffic,” Stevenson said. “I was probably 8 years old — my mom caught, so I was always wearing the gear — when I fell in love with it. It’s what I wanted to do.”

ON A FRIGID Tuesday morning in March, more than 50 high school boys in full uniform took the field at the USA Baseball Complex in Cary, North Carolina, with Jim Koerner in the stands. Koerner develops on-field programming and curriculum for USA Baseball’s 13- to 17-year-old teams and is one of amateur American baseball’s most important barometers. His son, Sam, 18, catches for Pro5 Academy’s Premier team, an elite developmental academy.

Scattered around the diamond were players committed to Old Dominion and NC State, Virginia Tech and UNC, Ohio State and Tulane. Haven Fielder, the San Diego State-bound son of Prince Fielder, is Pro5’s designated hitter. Sam committed to Division I Radford University in Virginia. Almost all of them take remote classes and rarely, if ever, attend high school in-person.

The elder Koerner said it’s a moment of extreme change, both for the beloved sport that has long been his livelihood and the position his son fell in love with. From a young age, Sam showed a natural lean toward catching, but Jim said he urged Sam toward the position he thought would provide the best chance of a prosperous baseball life.

Now he’s not so sure.

Twenty years ago, Jim Koerner said, catchers were as still as possible; now, framing and throwing are more important than blocking, and passed balls are skyrocketing.

His son, like Stevenson, is a left-hitting catcher. Sam is just shy of 6 feet and defensively gifted with a plus-arm. He also hits well for contact. He situationally adapts his catching stance: one knee down if the bases are empty, traditional with runners on. Sam said, even with the position under siege, it’s easier to throw out of that. Anything to tip the scales.

“[Sam] has aspirations, like a lot of young kids,” Jim Koerner said. “It’s hard to tell young kids, ‘Hey, man, you’re a really good receiver … but in five years, that might not matter. Just focus on your arm and hitting.'”

Sammy Serrano, Sam’s catching coach and a second-round draft pick in the 1998 MLB draft, said he isn’t worried about Sam or how he’ll adapt to rule changes. Serrano said Sam has an extremely high baseball IQ and he “just happens to be the catcher.”

During a game this spring, Sam Koerner took a relay from right field, swiped his mitt across the plate and waited: Runner out. Seconds later, he was in the dugout asking Serrano, what he could do to improve his timing and technique. It was a good play, but Sam isn’t interested in only good.

“He always wanted to [be a catcher],” his father said. “Two or three years old, he’d squat down in front of the TV and I’d be like, ‘Hey Sam … whatcha doin’?’

“He’d just point at the catcher on TV.”

DAVID ROSS’S WARM laugh spilled through a cellphone speaker when asked how well he would fare as a catcher in today’s MLB.

“I probably wouldn’t have a job,” he said. “I hit .180 my last year in Boston and I laughed: I got a two-year deal. I had a couple of deals on the table. That would’ve never happened early in my career when framing wasn’t a thing.”

Ross’s career was extended by his proclivity in the margins.

“When I was coming up, you had holds, hold pick, pitchouts, slide steps, four or five different signs from coaches that would help you manage the running game,” he said. “Well, that turned into nobody wanted to run anymore because the percentages didn’t match up. Now you see all these teams building with legit base stealers and athletes.”

After retiring following their 2016 World Series victory, Ross became a special assistant with the Cubs, then worked as an ESPN analyst before becoming the Cubs’ manager from 2020 to 2023, the first season under the rule changes. He is torn on some elements of the changes and changes that still might come, such as the Automated Ball-Strike system already implemented in MiLB that MLB tested this spring training.

“As a player, it’s a hard job, mistakes cost games, so, I love the challenge system because you’re going to keep the beauty of the game,” Ross said. “I don’t think we’ll get away from — you’re still going to be teaching kids about receiving, blocking, throwing, calling the game, the little intricacies of baseball. I don’t think that’s going to go away. Even with all the analytics, you still need a sense of feel back there.

“But offense has won out.”

Two-time All-Star catcher Jonathan Lucroy was an offense-first catcher out of college who became an analytic darling of the mid-2010s for his ability to frame pitches.

A mid-2000s ESPN feature on Lucroy pointed to then-Cubs general manager Epstein’s savvy in being an early adopter to the framing movement, which included the signing of Ross. Ironically, it’s the same aspect of the game Epstein might undo if an ABS system is implemented.

“Framing will be so devalued because of the advent of the ABS system and they’ll be prioritizing the offensive side of the position even more,” Lucroy said. “I’m biased, but I’ve experienced it firsthand.”

Lucroy predicted that the bedrocks of the position will remain.

“The most important part of the position is the game management and leadership,” he said. “There’s a lot of psychology that goes into it: How different guys communicate, how they receive information, take it in, apply [it]. You can’t take a paint brush and swipe it across and everyone does it the same way.”

Lucroy got to know his pitchers, learn about their families, how they respond to constructive criticism.

“How do you go out and speak to them properly to reel them in? Get them to change stuff up, change their thought process?” Lucroy said. “Are they a hand-hold guy? Do you have to tell them everything’s good, breathe, slow it down? The majority of guys are like that. On the flip side, a guy like Max Scherzer you can go out and yell at him, insult him a bit, and he responds positively.”

Lucroy said Jason Kendall once told him that the best catchers were also the best communicators, that their job is to make the pitcher look as good as possible.

‘”Make them more important than you,'” Lucroy recalled. “You want them to trust you and believe in you, like any other relationship. ‘Cause 99% of the time, guys don’t feel the best when they go out and play.”

Lucroy said catchers will adapt to the rule changes, because they always do. Lucroy said he thinks once an ABS system is instituted, catchers will go back into a more traditional stance, which means they’ll block balls better and throw out more runners.

But having experienced an analytics revolution himself, he worries about coming into an MLB transitioning between eras.

“The game is always shifting, always evolving,” Lucroy said. “If you go back and look at 2016, remember how the Cubs had Willson Contreras back there? And they put in David Ross. Why? Because David Ross is a veteran who ended up being a future manager who knows what the heck he’s doing and how to handle guys in big situations.”

Lucroy said he doesn’t think that’s an accident.

“Framing is important, to a certain extent,” he said, “but the best framers in the world aren’t catching in the World Series — the better offensive guys are. Even the years when I was one of the top framers in the league, I think I made the playoffs once.”

SAM KOERNER’S PRO5 TEAM took on a Canadian baseball academy at a minor league stadium in Holly Springs, North Carolina. The bases were wider — Sam called them “pizza boxes” — than those at the USA Baseball complex, so they stole more often here.

Sam was one of three catchers on the roster that day, and the only one committed to a college. He didn’t play until the eighth inning, and when he finally got to bat, he cranked the first pitch over the right field wall. It nearly hit a car on the adjacent NC 55 roadway.

His dad rushed to pull the video — it was Sam’s third in-game home run ever — but the camera was off.

In the press box afterward, Sam said he’s taking a gap year. He’ll enroll at Radford in the fall of 2026 and play with Pro5 until then, maximizing his growth literally and technically.

Sam doesn’t have to contend with new MLB-type rules yet, but if aspiration meets opportunity, he soon will.

“It’s already a challenge trying to hold runners on [even] though the rule changes aren’t affecting me,” Sam said. “I don’t know what else [catchers] could do. I’m just tryin’ to be as fast as I can to second base, on the bag.”

In working with thousands of players and coaches across the U.S., Jim Koerner said MLB’s rules changes haven’t been adopted at the youth levels, which means they haven’t directly altered how youth ball is played — yet. But for Sam and his peers, and even younger players, making it to an NCAA baseball team and eventually to MLB are the goals.

“The way pro evaluators are going to look at the catching position is going to start to change now,” Koerner said. “But on the flip side, when you value the guy on the mound as much as he’s valued now at the professional level, they still need to trust the guy catching. There’s still a confidence, a comfort, a leadership aspect.”

It’s the aspect Sam prides himself on most and what Lucroy said was invaluable.

“Building good relationships with my pitchers, always having their back,” Sam said. “It makes them perform better knowing they have a guy behind the plate where they can, even as simple as 0-2, they can spike a brick in the dirt and know I’m going to pick ’em up and block it and throw the guy out at first.”

At lunch in between his game and a weightlifting session, Sam inhaled a Philly cheesesteak. He buzzed while breaking down the catching techniques of Cincinnati’s Jose Trevino and San Francisco’s Patrick Bailey. He also acknowledged that during a game earlier, his middle finger got caught asking for a curveball and he took a 90-mile-per-hour fastball in the chest plate.

Jim said it’s just how Sam is; there is no version of him absent of catching.

“When he was 7 or 8, he’d get back there and see these big guys come to hit and … he’d be excited but he’d look at me like…” Jim said, his eyes going wide.

“I was scared to death,” Sam said.

“But he eventually warmed up to it,” Jim said, smiling.

They fell into a cadence, starting and finishing each other’s anecdotes. They’ve chosen a baseball life, devoid of free time. Jim wishes he were home more often, and Sam might as well live in catching gear. Recently, they tried to game-plan on a rare, shared day off. They couldn’t decide what to do. Eventually, Jim pitched batting practice to Sam.

“[At a] concert the other day, one of the guys was tellin’ a story about fishing, being out there with his daughter and she’s thinking, ‘We’re going fishing?’ The guy says, ‘It’s not … just fishing,'” Jim said.

“When I ask Sam, ‘Hey, do you wanna hit? You wanna go lift?’ For him, it might be just baseball.”

Suddenly, a knock came on the press box door to vacate. Sam and Jim turned in their chairs and shared a glance.

“Well, for me,” Jim said, packing up, “it’s not just baseball.”