Michael Harris II froze for half a beat.
The call was strike three. His at-bat appeared finished. Then Harris tapped his helmet. Around Dodger Stadium, the noise shifted. Fans stopped reacting to the strikeout and started waiting for the verdict as Harris stood near the plate, watching a computerized strike zone review the pitch that had just sent him toward the dugout.
Seconds later, the call changed.
Ball. The at-bat lived.
That sequence captured something new about October baseball. The home-plate umpire still makes the first decision, but he no longer always gets the last word. One pitch can now move from judgment to appeal before the crowd has finished reacting.
For the Dodgers and Braves, that change has already become part of the series. Los Angeles won Game 1, 5-3, before Atlanta answered with a 3-2 victory in Game 2. Beneath those scores ran another competition: which team could best understand the difference between the umpire’s zone and the automated one.
Through two games, that gap has appeared often enough to matter.
Baseball spent generations treating the strike zone as something players had to learn rather than something they could challenge. Hitters adjusted to the umpire, catchers searched for extra strikes, and pitchers figured out which corner they could steal. Arguments changed almost nothing.
The Automated Ball-Strike Challenge System changes that relationship without removing the umpire from it. MLB still lets the plate umpire call every pitch. Teams begin with a limited number of challenges, and only the batter, pitcher or catcher can initiate one. A successful challenge stays available.
That last detail changes everything because a challenge is not simply a protest. It becomes a resource. Use one recklessly and a team can lose it. Save one too long and an obvious mistake may survive. Players have only a few seconds to decide whether irritation matches reality.
The automated zone measures 17 inches across the plate, while the top and bottom adjust to each hitter’s height. Nobody standing in the box thinks about those dimensions as a geometry problem. The calculation feels much simpler: Was that pitch really a strike, and how certain are you?
Game 1 quickly turned those abstract rules into something much more immediate.
The Dodgers handed the ball to Tarik Skubal, their blockbuster deadline acquisition from Detroit, on an afternoon when the temperature at Dodger Stadium pushed toward 100 degrees.
Skubal attacked Atlanta aggressively. Home-plate umpire Roberto Ortiz did the same with the edges.
Ortiz handled 154 tracked pitches and finished with a 90.3 percent overall accuracy rate, according to TapToChallenge, an independent site that tracks ABS decisions using publicly available MLB pitch data. His called-strike accuracy fell much lower, to 75.6 percent.
That gap matters. A missed ball can give a hitter another pitch, but a missed strike can shrink an at-bat, force a hitter to protect against pitches farther off the plate or end the plate appearance entirely.
Harris saw that firsthand in the second inning. Facing an 0-2 count, he took a pitch Ortiz called strike three and challenged immediately. He won. Instead of walking back to the dugout, he remained alive.
One reversal did not decide a 5-3 playoff game, but it showed how quickly the challenge system can move from curiosity to survival. Atlanta understood that better than Los Angeles.
The Braves challenged six calls in Game 1 and won five of them. The Dodgers went one-for-three. Atlanta kept recovering pitches it believed the umpire had taken away, while Los Angeles spent challenges without getting the same return.
For Andy Pages, the system became personal.
Pages challenged a 2-2 call in the second inning and lost. The pitch remained a strike. Under normal circumstances, a failed argument disappears almost immediately. A player complains, the game moves on, and everyone forgets it by the next inning.
A failed ABS challenge follows you.
Dodgers manager Dave Roberts later made clear that the club had spoken with Pages about his challenge decisions and wanted more restraint from him. That creates an uncomfortable dynamic for any hitter, especially a young one.
At the plate, instinct matters. Players spend their entire careers learning the edges of the zone and trusting what they see. Now that instinct carries a tactical price because Pages did not simply disagree with an umpire. He spent one of his team’s limited opportunities to correct a mistake.
That distinction grows sharper in October. The Dodgers could not afford to challenge every pitch that felt wrong, and Pages could no longer treat conviction alone as enough reason to ask for a review.
The series shifted a day later. So did the umpire.
Chris Guccione took over behind the plate for Game 2 and produced a cleaner overall performance. His accuracy reached 92.7 percent, with 13 missed calls across 179 tracked pitches.
Still, the called-strike number left room for conflict. Guccione finished at 81.8 percent accuracy on called strikes, according to TapToChallenge. Eight pitches went into the book as strikes even though the automated zone judged them balls.
Atlanta pounced, challenging three calls and winning all three. Los Angeles went one-for-two.
Through two games, the Braves had converted eight of nine challenges. The Dodgers had converted only two of five. Those reversals did not put runs on the scoreboard by themselves, but they changed counts, extended plate appearances and forced pitchers to throw again when an at-bat otherwise might have tilted against the hitter.
Sometimes, they simply handed a hitter first base.
That happened to Mookie Betts in Game 2.
Betts stepped in during the fifth inning and worked the count to 3-1. Guccione called the next pitch a strike. Betts did not hesitate. He tapped for the challenge.
The replay showed the pitch outside the automated zone. The call flipped from strike to ball, and Betts walked.
That correction captured the strategic value of the system better than a table full of accuracy percentages. Without the challenge, Betts faces another pitch at 3-2. With it, he reaches first base.
The difference between those outcomes fits inside the width of a baseball, which explains why missed calls cannot be measured only by totals. An incorrect strike in the second inning with nobody on carries one kind of cost. A missed 3-1 call with runners moving, a rally forming or the game hanging in the balance carries another.
Context turns inches into leverage.
Atlanta added another wrinkle between Games 1 and 2.
Sean Murphy caught Game 1 while Drake Baldwin served as the designated hitter. In Game 2, the Braves switched them, putting Baldwin behind the plate and Murphy at DH.
That rotation matters in a series built partly around receiving and challenging. Catchers have always tried to win borderline pitches. A steady glove can make a low fastball look cleaner, while strong body positioning can help an umpire see a breaking ball differently.
ABS does not eliminate that skill because most calls still belong entirely to the umpire. Instead, the system adds another responsibility.
A catcher now has to receive the pitch, read the call and immediately decide whether his own view of the location justifies a challenge. Baldwin handled that job well.
Late in Game 2, he overturned calls in both the eighth and ninth innings. One came on a 2-2 count, exactly the kind of situation where a single strike can dramatically alter an at-bat.
Catchers used to frame pitches for one audience. Now they receive for the umpire while silently comparing his zone with the machine’s.
That is a different kind of pressure.
The most interesting effect of the new system may occur on pitches that never get reviewed.
Through the first two games, TapToChallenge logged 19 pitches called strikes that the automated zone judged balls. Not every one triggered a challenge, and they did not need to.
Hitters watch what the umpire rewards. Pitchers notice it too. Catchers remember where the edge moved during the previous inning.
If the umpire gives a pitcher a fastball half an inch off the outside corner early, the next hitter has to account for it. With two strikes, he may protect farther off the plate. That opens the door for a slider beginning on the black before sweeping beyond his reach.
Pitchers adjust from the other direction. If an umpire repeatedly rewards a particular edge, they attack it until someone forces the issue.
That creates the central contradiction of the challenge era. The automated system exists to correct mistakes, yet the human zone still shapes behavior on every pitch that goes unchallenged.
The machine may define the official boundary.
The umpire still defines the working one.
Atlanta’s eight-for-nine challenge record through two games looks almost absurdly efficient.
Some of that comes from pitch recognition. Some comes from catcher awareness. Much of it comes from discipline. The Braves have rarely challenged simply because a player disliked a call. Their decisions have repeatedly matched what the automated zone later showed.
Los Angeles has been less precise.
That does not mean Atlanta has solved ABS or discovered some hidden edge that guarantees a series win. Nine challenges remain a tiny sample, but October has always turned tiny samples into important ones.
A team may only get a handful of chances to correct an umpire over the course of a game. One careless decision with that resource can leave the dugout helpless when a bigger call arrives later.
That is why the Pages episode matters. It is also why the Betts challenge matters.
One player trusted the wrong pitch. Another trusted the right one.
Tied 1-1, the Dodgers and Braves head deeper into a series where the strike zone has already become part of the strategy.
The next home-plate umpire will bring his own tendencies, and both teams will start studying them almost immediately. Pitchers will test the edges early, looking for the extra inch every staff wants in October. Catchers will learn which pitches earn strikes. Hitters with two strikes will decide how much of the plate they really need to protect.
Then somebody will take a borderline pitch.
The umpire will make his call.
For most of baseball history, that ended the conversation. Now a batter may tap his helmet or a catcher may challenge from his crouch. The stadium will wait while the computerized zone measures a pitch that missed, or caught, the plate by the smallest possible margin.
That tension gives October baseball another layer. The umpire still controls the moment first, but the player now has a choice.
In a postseason series where one pitch can rescue an at-bat, erase a strikeout or put a runner on base, the hardest part may no longer be recognizing a bad call.
It may be knowing when to trust yourself enough to challenge it.
READ MORE: The Wild Card Hangover: Do the Braves Have Enough Bullpen Depth Left for the Dodgers?
FAQs
What is MLB’s automated strike zone challenge system?
MLB still lets umpires call balls and strikes. Hitters, pitchers and catchers can challenge selected calls and ask the automated system to review them.
How many ABS challenges does an MLB team get?
Each team starts with two challenges. A successful challenge stays available, so accurate decisions can preserve a team’s supply.
Did Michael Harris II overturn a strikeout against the Dodgers?
Yes. Harris challenged a called third strike in Game 1, and the automated system overturned it to keep his at-bat alive.
What happened with Andy Pages’ ABS challenge?
Pages lost a Game 1 challenge on a called strike. Dave Roberts later instructed him not to initiate more challenges during the postseason.
Did Mookie Betts win an ABS challenge in Game 2?
Yes. Betts challenged a 3-1 strike, won the review and received ball four for a walk.
