 There's only so many that Correa can take before he tells you, yeah, I'm good to play tomorrow. You don't want to see that. This one came way inside. Had to make himself skinny. Stood up on the tiptoes. Out of the way of that one. One ball, two strikes. He count on Correa. Loser delivers and again up and in. Fastball at 96. Correa's like, what did I do to you?