Early in his career, Adam Cimber relied on the sinker too much.
Opponents adjusted and he was getting hit hard, so Cimber tried something different. The righty’s father suggested attacking hitters up in the zone a few times, but he quickly brushed off the prompt — most guys that throw like him live down low.
But with hard contact still rising, Cimber finally tested up top. No long home runs, no more sitting on the sinker/slider, just outs — it worked. There was no “I told you so,” text from dad, Cimber said, that’s what he’s there for.
When things aren’t going well, Cimber can’t lean on teammates' advice or go to coaches for specific tweaks like most over-the-top hurlers. The submariner (or sidearmer, he doesn’t care what you call him) sometimes asks other members of the funky tossing fraternity, he watches back tape from when “things were going well,” or he takes advice from his dad and part-time personal pitching coach — Russ.
“He's seen me when I'm good, he's seen me when I'm bad,” Cimber said. “He knows the difference.”
While coaches like Pete Walker and Matt Buschmann can help Cimber with generalities — timing, hips, legs — Russ has watched every game of his son’s life, Cimber said. It was Russ who first suggested Cimber try submarining in high school, mimicking the sidewinding ways of Brad Ziegler, and he still shoots over suggestions to his son in the big leagues.
Cimber’s wrinkle, his willingness to attack the top of the zone and mix in the four-seamer, is part of what has made him so successful. In his first season in the MLB, lefties hit .329 with a 1.062 OPS off Cimber. Now, with the refined pitch mix and willingness to attack all parts of the zone, southpaws own a dismal .506 OPS against the submariner.
“Usually, a submarine guy is just going to be a sinker and a slider,” teammate Marcus Semien, who has faced Cimber as an opponent, said, “But he has a four-seam up as well, and it kinda has some rise to it. It’s just something you don’t see every day.”
Cimber still mainly faces righties, with 125 of his 201 plate appearances coming against that side of the platoon in 2021. But with a three-batter minimum, Cimber’s forced to tackle both sides of the plate and he’s succeeding in all situations.
With just one career save on his resume, Cimber found himself a strike away from doubling that total in early August. Staring in from the mound against his former team with socks pulled above his knees, Cimber’s excitement was stolen by first base umpire Larry Vanover spreading his arms wide — no swing.
After Oscar Mercado’s two-strike half swing, Cimber reset, tucking one foot in front of the other and turning his left toe back towards the rubber. He’s tweaked and developed the uncomfortable contortion over the last eight years, ditching a windup for quickness to the plate but retaining the same torque of a leg kick.
Slide stepping into his delivery, Cimber punched air as Mercado whiffed on a painted sinker. The righty spun on the mound, kicking up his left leg and releasing a clear “Let’s Go” as his arms clapped and flailed in celebration of his second career save.
Like his celebrations, a Cimber pitch is a jumble of limbs — torso plummets, leg shoots out and up, his arm skims the mound, and the ball hurtles toward the plate from eight o’clock. Regardless of what you call it, it’s a look hitters struggle to pick up.
This season, Cimber has a 2.1 ERA, a .974 WHIP, and hasn't allowed a single home run. With the Blue Jays, he's let up only one earned run and walked just one batter in 17 innings pitched, earning a spot in the back of Charlie Montoyo’s bullpen.
Cimber isn’t the closer, but Montoyo didn’t rule out more save opportunities going forward. The righty tries not to think about his title, calling Jordan Romano “the dude,” and mentioning how many experienced closers the Blue Jay pen now owns.
But none, not even Romano, match Cimber’s minuscule ERA and ability to keep the ball in front of the outfield walls. Title or not, Cimber is a late-inning weapon — he just does it a little differently.
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