Meland, who has trained Irvin since 2020, saw a lesson there: Irvin could move the same way if he stopped using the furniture in his home. Irvin largely obliged. Lying on the floor was “free mobility,” Meland said. Irvin could cycle through positions as necessary. His body wouldn’t tighten up, and he could work through movement patterns without taxing his nervous system and muscles. His muscles started to move more efficiently, which helped him throw harder and pitch longer into games. What would be a non-starter for most athletes became just another edge for Irvin.
“He’s so willing to do the things that so many people would be like, ‘That’s not going to make enough of a difference,’ ” Meland said. “He’s so willing to do something that might make a little bit of a difference. And that, to me, is the biggest thing that sets Irv apart from everyone else that I work with that’s even close to his level. If there’s a minute chance that it will make some sort of positive impact, you don’t need to sell him on it anymore. He’s all in.”
It has become evident that the 27-year-old Irvin will do whatever it takes to stick around. Although his training sessions with Meland are originally scheduled for 90 minutes, he often will stay at the Burnsville facility from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. He has rigorously tracked his diet and his sleep since his college days at Oklahoma. He practices his breathwork when he has free time in the car. Half of his regimen doesn’t involve pitching-specific movements at all, rather leaning into his multisport background.
Individually, each habit wouldn’t turn Irvin into a big leaguer. Together, they make up a routine that cuts into his social life. But they work. So he greets the process with a big Midwestern smile.
“He just kind of opened my brain to the potential that I had stored in my body,” Irvin said. “And we try to tap into that and access that.”
Trusting that process has worked. After his MLB debut last May, Irvin transformed from an unheralded prospect to a key cog in the rotation of Washington’s future. He was the Nationals’ most reliable pitcher in the second half last season, and this season’s metrics say his curveball is sharper and his location is better, leading to fewer walks and weaker hits. His fastball has more horizontal break. A cutter, which he added in the offseason, is progressing, too. Through four starts, he sports a 3.13 ERA and 1.00 walks and hits per inning pitched.
He also feels more like an athlete. His legs and core are stronger. His workouts, designed to prepare himself for the violent movements that pitching requires, and his daily habits, designed to raise his body’s capabilities, helped him grow more accustomed to throwing deeper into games. His ankles and hips don’t get as sore as they once did.
“We took the stuff that these guys have given me with the Nationals and brought it over to what [Meland] is doing and blend those two to create a perfect storm,” Irvin said.
Irvin was never supposed to be a pitcher. He was a late bloomer growing up in Bloomington, Minn., never the first pick in hockey, baseball, basketball or football or the best at skiing or snowboarding. But he was pretty good at all of them, and he loved them all. He eventually sprouted to 6-foot-6. As he transitioned from shortstop to the mound, he could feel that his diverse athletic background helped but didn’t quite know why.
He can now explain it neatly: the natural, explosive motions that he’s capable of, the ones they work on in his Minnesota facility, translate seamlessly to the tremendous coordination, timing and body control that pitching necessitates.
“If you’ve ever seen Jake move, it’s clear he’s an athlete first,” Meland said.
Still, it has been a long process for Irvin to learn how to get his athleticism and grit under control. It helped that he picked things up quicker than other pitchers, said Skip Johnson, his coach at Oklahoma, where Irvin had a GPA near 4.0. He would need to watch video of opposing hitters only once to know how he would attack them. He learned to throw strikes by running a sprint after bullpen sessions for every pitch that missed the target. Johnson saw potential for Irvin to be Oklahoma’s ace, but he had to overhaul his mechanics and control his emotions to do so.
“He had a lot to learn really fast if he was going to be the Friday night starter,” Johnson said. “And that’s what he was.”
He was always smart and disciplined, but on the mound in college he was, at times, overaggressive, the coach said. Johnson taught him how to breathe between pitches and find himself at neutral, rather than hype himself up. His routine, Johnson said, became “his lifeline.”
“When [Johnson] came in, I was very emotion-driven,” Irvin said. “He was able to rein that in. . . . For me, it was just trying to pick up all the little things that he was trying to teach. Taking one pitch at a time, use your breath. Just do whatever you can to basically come back to the moment. Don’t make the moment too big and try and stay levelheaded.”
In his first college playoff start, Johnson had a new plan for Irvin: He wasn’t allowed to look at the scoreboard. Between innings, Johnson and a trainer ushered Irvin to the tunnel behind the dugout so he couldn’t see the display. The idea, Johnson said, was to make Irvin understand that his preparation and routine mattered more than the results.
It was his best start as a Sooner.
When he walks back to the dugout now, he doesn’t even sneak a peek at the scoreboard.
“He’s been unbelievable. He really has,” Nationals Manager Dave Martinez said after Irvin’s most recent performance, a six-inning scoreless effort against the Los Angeles Dodgers. “He’s been outstanding, actually. He just keeps getting better and better. The confidence keeps growing.”
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