ATLANTA — An engine revs over and over every time Louis Varland descends the home bullpen steps. As the Toronto Blue Jays reliever exits a door in left field, smoke billowing over his head, Varland’s warm-up song begins: “Animal I Have Become,” by Three Days Grace.
“I’m still caged inside,” the lyrics go. “I can’t control myself.”
And so, for an inning or two, Varland becomes an animal.
The revving engine is new for Varland, kicking off the sort of pre-appearance hype video usually reserved for closers. He hasn’t formally been named Toronto’s ninth-inning man — the club still utilizes a committee of relievers to handle saves — but Varland leads the team in saves and save opportunities since April 21. Regardless of role, he has become one of the best relievers in baseball.
In 29 appearances, Varland owns a 0.28 ERA, the lowest among all relievers with at least 10 outings. His ERA+, adjusted for park factors, was 1,587 percentage points above league average after a multi-inning save in Thursday’s 7-2 win over the Atlanta Braves. His win probability added (2.81) was third among all players, behind only Shohei Ohtani and Nick Kurtz. Varland’s always been competitive. He’s possessed an electric arm for years. Now he’s brought that fire to the back of Toronto’s bullpen.
“He’s just easygoing and about as nice and carefree as you can be in the clubhouse,” manager John Schneider said. “On the mound, it’s a whole different animal for him.”
Blue Jays bullpen coach Graham Johnson had heard of Varland but hadn’t seen him pitch before a 2022 minor-league outing. Johnson, the Yankees’ Triple-A pitching coach at the time, was standing in the outfield watching Varland prepare for a start.
“It was pure electricity,” Johnson said.
The right-hander, ramping up for his second Triple-A start, zipped long tosses to his catcher’s glove and worked his way to the outfield bullpen. When the throwing program was complete, Varland got about 20 feet from the outfield wall and jumped into a crow hop, unleashing a final throw at the padded wall.
The ball pierced the padding, creating a cavernous hole in the foam. The ball was stuck.
“That was probably 102 miles per hour,” Johnson said. “He was kind of just standing there, laughing about it.”
Varland didn’t always bring the heat. His fastball regularly sat under 90 mph before his draft year. It was only in the cancelled 2020 minor-league season that Varland gained weight, got stronger, lowered his arm slot and increased his velocity. A move to the bullpen in 2025 pushed that velocity even higher. But the competitor has always been there.
Varland was invited to attend a 2019 pre-draft workout hosted by the Los Angeles Angels in Illinois. They put Varland and other prospects through various physical tests — vertical jump, flexibility and more. Before the broad jump, Varland turned to an Angels team official.
“What’s the record?” Varland asked. “Who had the best jump?”
The question, Varland said, came out of curiosity. He doesn’t remember if he broke the record, but that wasn’t the point. The mere question demonstrated that he was looking for a bar to clear, an opponent to defeat. While the Minnesota Twins, not the Angels, ended up drafting Varland in the 15th round that year, the question stuck with that Los Angeles team official. Who has the guts to ask that?
Varland claims he’s no more or less competitive than any other professional athlete. Everybody, Varland said, wants to win. But his locker neighbour, Myles Straw, said Varland despises defeat. He hasn’t faced many losses on the mound this year, but Straw has seen the indignation in other venues.
Early in Toronto’s 2026 season, Varland and Straw met up to play pickleball. It was supposed to be casual fun until Straw won seven straight games against Varland — or at least that’s what the outfielder claims. Eventually, Straw said, the reliever shut things down. Enough was enough.
“Louis has probably won just about everything he’s ever done in his life,” Straw said. “So I know I got him that day. I could tell he wasn’t used to that.”
There’s a switch, Johnson said, that Varland flips between the clubhouse and his innings on the mound. He begins to lock in, fellow reliever Braydon Fisher said, in the third inning. It’s then he leaves the other relievers watching the game and begins to warm up on his own. You can still talk to him at that point, but Varland begins to get fidgety as the game wears on.
“It’s almost like, ‘Dude, sit down,’” Fisher said.
Toronto Blue Jays reliever Louis Varland embraces Brandon Valenzuela after a win against the Pittsburgh Pirates at Rogers Centre in May. (Vaughn Ridley / Getty Images)
Then he’s on the bullpen mound, snapping warmup fastballs into a catcher’s glove. Varland’s entrance is sparked by a two-handed slap on the reliever’s back from Johnson, firing him up before an outing. Then the engine starts to rev.
There was no revving on Thursday, when Varland entered in the eighth inning to the roar of Atlanta’s home crowd. He retired Ozzie Albies on two pitches to end the inning, preserving Toronto’s one-run lead, then stomped back to the dugout. After the Jays added four insurance runs, Varland jogged back out and retired the next three Braves in order. Even as the Jays expanded their lead and other relievers got up in Toronto’s bullpen, Schneider left Varland alone.
“We just don’t say anything until he’s done,” Schneider said.
That ability to lock in, Schneider said, is particularly important for high-leverage relievers. After a Jays victory in May, Varland was in the clubhouse with a hockey helmet on, joking through a post-win celebration. Not much earlier, he stalked around the mound in the eighth inning, staring in at his catcher and snagging throws back to the mound as if personally offended by the baseball.
It’s a pretty simple distinction, Straw said. Varland isn’t locked in while in the clubhouse, but he is on the field. It’s the sort of compartmentalization every athlete strives for. Hours before games, Varland is calm. Minutes after outings, he’s laughing. But on the field, in the most pressure-packed situations, Varland can become the animal.
“Basically, he’s my son in the clubhouse,” Straw said. “And out there, he likes to be dad. He’s just got that dad mentality.”
