SUBJECTIVE NESCIENCE TOP 156 PITCHING PROSPECT RANKINGS OF 2026

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The sun sat low, catching the dew on the emerald blades of the Latitude 36 Bermudagrass. The grounds of the complex on Douglas Avenue sat hollow in the kind of stillness that usually belongs to a cathedral rather than a diamond. In the shadows of the awning above the bullpen, a lanky southpaw waged a private war with the nylon net 60 feet, 6 inches away. He wasn’t just throwing; he was lashing his arm with controlled violence. 

The silence held until the wet, muffled brush of footsteps approached from the outfield. The silhouette that emerged through the haze looked like a living glitch, moving with a slow-rolling gait toward the southpaw. As the figure drew closer, the midnight-blue puffer and dazzle-knit shorts sharpened into focus, along with oversized sunglasses that masked his eyes and fused with a thick, copper beard that anchored his face. His right hand remained pressed to a cellphone at his ear as he closed the distance toward the lanky lefty, who was lost in his own intensity.

“Yeah, Ross. I found him. And yeah, Shane signed the contract so it’s a go.” the man said, cupping the mouthpiece as he spoke in a muted, gravelly tone. “Don’t worry. I’ll get him to come…. and I’ll take twenty of his First Bowman Sparkle Refractors for payment,” He thumbed the screen and slid the phone into the deep pocket of his coat. Now within earshot of the southpaw, he watched with a grin as he saw the two-plane spin of the ball make its way to the net.

 You have a hell of an arm, kid. 

Thanks, sir. The young lefty couldn’t hide the confusion across his face as he snapped out of his follow-through and turned his attention to the stranger. His glove hand hung loose, eyeing the man’s bizarre getup.

Don’t call me sir. My name is Bob. He lets out a snicker. Actually, my friends call me Big Bob. The lefty gave an uneasy look and flashed a half hearted smile. Good to meet you, Bob. The kid grabbed a ball from the bucket and got back on the bump. 

You know kid… you’re from my hometown. I’ve been following you since you’ve been an Eagle. I had a feeling about you. 

Appreciate it. He dug his cleats into the dirt around the mound to show his frustration because of the interuption to his training.

BIG BOB – Kid, can I talk to you?

The young pitcher sized Big Bob up for a moment. Without a word, he turned his shoulder into a cross-body stretch, pressing his right arm hard against his chest while his gaze remained fixed on the stranger. “I can give you an autograph after I’m finished,” he said, his voice flat. “Just give me an hour.”

Big Bob didn’t flinch. “That would be great, but it’s not that. Listen, I want to let you in on a great opportunity.”

The kid had finally had enough. He popped the ball into his mitt. Who are you? An agent… huh? You people have all kinds of tactics. I know you are only doing your job but I really got to get back to my training.

Big Bob drops the “fan” act. He straightens his posture and deepens his voice.

BIG BOB – I’m sure you heard of Scout the Statline before. We are putting together a series of games that only the best pitching prospects are invited to. I think you have what it takes to make it to the end. 

-To the end?

BIG BOB – As in winning every game. We play five games and the final game is something like an All-Star game at the end to determine the winner. 

–Thanks for the invite but…

BIG BOB – I’m telling you, kid! This is one hell of an opportunity.  Ask your agent… Shane… Hell. Ask his old man, Scott! They will tell you! I have both of their private numbers on my phone. I’ll call them right now! If you want.

-No, that’s alright.

BIG BOB – I’m telling you kid… We already have over a hundred guys committed. And just so you know… we will take care of all your expenses….  Travel, food, a place to stay… everything! What do you say? 

–Sounds great but I already told Coach Meinhold that I’ll be here to train with him and the other coaches… 

BIG BOB – Kid, entertain me… Would you like to play a game with me?

–If I do, will you leave me alone? 

Bob let out a sharp bellow in amusement, his fingers danced through his beard. Yeah, I promise I will, kid. So, I heard you’ve been working on your change.  He unzips his coat and puts his hand inside his shirt to pull out a necklace with a baseball card in a magnetic card holder. This is the Ohtani 2024 Topps 50/50 Dynasty Black MLB Logoman patch autographed card, 1/1 version commemorating his historic 50-homer, 50-steal season. I can put it up for auction tomorrow and get a million for it. He quickly puts it away and looks directly into the brown eyes of the young man. I see there is a portable B1 Trackman tracking your pitches. I’ll give you three chances. If you can throw one change-up with at least a 5.1 inch drop and an 8.9 inch fade. The card is yours. But, if you don’t. Then you have to come with me right now and play in the games. 

-Seriously? 

BIG BOB – I don’t joke about my hobby. He smiles ear to ear. So what do you say, kid? The southpaw tosses the baseball he had in his glove, a number of times in the air. Fuck it. Why not? 

Big Bob smacks his hands together and screams, “This is why I told my boss about you, kid. Let’s see what you got.” 

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A spirited sonata of a majestic blared through the vast space, the operatic notes of the trumpet echoing off the stark, pale walls. The hovering fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across the countless faces waking up from their induced slumber, their expressions marked by a shared, silent bewilderment. Someone yells. 

-Does anyone know how we got here? 

Another.

–What is going on? 

One by one, the young men in identical robin blue tracksuits climbed down and threaded their way through the labyrinth of metal beds, arranged in mirror-image fashion at each end of the warehouse. Each moved toward the foray with limbs still heavy.

One of the farmhands made his way down from one of the higher banks and noticed a weathered-looking soul sitting upright at the far end, muttering to himself from his bed. The babyfaced Hams rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand and peeled away from the procession as he made his way to the man as if pulled by a familiarity, settling to the side of him.

OLD MAN – Fifty … Fifty-two

HAMS – Sir.

OLD MAN – Fifty-Five, Fifty-six

HAMS – Excuse me, sir!

OLD MAN – And there are two over there

HAMS – What are you doing? 

OLD MAN – Stop talking to me or I lose count. And so I was at fifty, that’s uh… 

HAMS – Ah. You must be trying to count how many of us there are, is that right? 

OLD MAN –That’s right. So could you stop talking to me please? And then.. Huh? Hold on. Where was I again? 

HAMS – Up on the screen above the platform, sir. There are 156 here. 

The babyfaced Hams shifted his attention from the board to the older-looking chap and noticed what appeared to be a red apple tattoo on the man’s left forearm, though the sleeve obscured enough of it to leave him uncertain. His gaze lingered for a second before dropping to the number stitched on the right side of the tracksuit jacket Oh! Look, you were given the number one. He then looks down at his jacket. And I’m. Ohhh I’m last.

001 – Yeah, I know. I’m just counting the numbers. My doctor said counting the numbers is good because it prevents lapses in my focus and concentration. I’m only twenty-five years old but I believe my team feel my time is already up and there are whispers that I will get traded. I need to prove them wrong so I have no choice but to be part of these games. 

156 – Games? That’s right. That guy! The guy that was eating hard boiled eggs with the scraggly mustache, and one of those cheeseheads on his head… you know the ones that Packers’ fans wear.  He told me about some games? And he bet me that I couldn’t throw three strikes in a row without using my four-seamer or Vulcan… and uhhh.. there was… um.. there was a white van and it filled with smoke? And uh…  

001 – Ha!!!! Yes!! That smoke gave me the best sleep I’ve had since I was a kid. 

156 – You’re right! The smoke must have knocked me out! The babyface’s eyes snapped to the old man in bewilderment. Around them, a crowd eavesdrop to the exchange. Old man! Did the same guy bring you here? 

The old chap’s mind stirred for a moment before he closed his eyes, hoping the darkness would help him concentrate. I ummm-I remember it was a man in a tailor-made black suit… He had an accent and I umm remember that his tie and the handkerchief matched. Uh… I-I remember now…. They were both black, red, and yellow.  And I remember he made me chuckle because he’d yell BRILLIANT after everything I said.” The old fellow open his eyes and let out a light hearted giggle as he grinned at his comrade. 

156 – Old man! Don’t you get it? We were kidnapped! 

104 – I’m sorry but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. I had something similar happen to me but the guy I made a bet with wore a cowboy hat and was smoking a cigar. He freaked me out because he kept telling me he was completely inebriated on the holy spirit.

046 – Hmph… the guy I dealt with wore coke bottle eyeglasses and he-ee uh… sounded like one of those Slow Jam DJs you’d hear on the radio. 

022 – The guy that showed up to Tampa looked like he was fifteen and kept screaming Hoo Hoo Hoo Hoosiers at the top of his lungs.

026 – Weird. My guy didn’t say much but when he did it just a bunch of numbers and what sounded like formulas. He kept offering me bread filled with rice porridge.

105 – You think that’s weird? The guy I dealt with started every sentence with a knock, knock joke. 

156 – What the hell!?!  The baby-faced Ham’s head whirled frantically as his eyes collided with blank walls that matched the faces of his cohorts. How many of them are there?

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Without warning, the sea of robin blue in the foray, rippled violently as two figures burst from within it.

101 – Hey! You fucking bitch! Wow. It really is a small world. Look at this bitch’s mustache. Ha. I haven’t seen you since Peoria. How is the dead arm? 

039 –  At least I can throw more than two pitches. 

101 – Fuck you and your dead arm.

039 – Says the guy who has reliever written all over him. We both know you don’t have what it takes to be a starter.

101 – Ha! Okay. If that’s true at least The Madman didn’t give up on me and throw me away for some middle reliever. 

039 – Says the guy who the Madman got rid of too. Maybe it’s because you barely can throw four innings a game without hurting yourself? 

101 – Haaaa-ah-ahhh-ah!! *sighs* This is going to be fun. 

Number 101 bum rushed 039 as they tumbled to the concrete floor, the collision jolting through both of them. With a decent size advantage, 101 quickly asserted control, pinning 039 beneath him and shoving the man’s jacket over his head to blind him. Once 039 was trapped, 101 drove down short, punishing blows.

The tide turned when two onlookers, 010 and 088, burst onto the scene. They swarmed the mammoth of a man, clinging to his back and shoulders until their combined weight finally dragged him off 039, tearing 101’s jacket off in the struggle. They slammed 101 to the ground and immediately rained punches down on him. Number 071 had been watching from the crowd until his eyes caught the flash of something on 101’s left bicep. At the sight of it, he rushed in, trying his best to pull the men apart. He grabbed blindly, wedging himself into the fray to break the momentum. From behind, however, 039 surged back into the pile and flung 071 aside, sending him to land awkwardly on his right arm.

071 – Fuuuck! My arm!!!! 

​More jumped into the fracas, Numbers 058, 080, and 019 tore 010 and 088 off of 101. “071’s scream froze 039 in his tracks. A sudden pull of humanity dragged him away from the confrontation, sending him rushing toward 071’s side as he knelt beside him. “Hey… man, I’m sorry. I was just trying to help my fellow SoBes,” he muttered, hands hovering, unsure what to do and afraid to make it worse. ​

101 looked up and saw Number 039 hovering over his newly formed ally. Misinterpreting the gesture, 101 darted at them, slamming into 039 with enough force to send him crashing into several bystanders. They hit the metal bed frames with a heavy thud, setting off a chorus of winded grunts and the sharp clang of rattling steel. ​Only then did the fight abruptly stop. Numbers 058 and 080 hurried over to help 101 and 071 get back on their feet while the others gathered around 039 to do the same. Both groups of combatants stare a hole into each other. 

The tension snapped as a voice bombarded the room. 156 clambered onto one of the top bunks, towering over the throng and screamed, “STOP! Just fuckin’ stop! Damn it! Take a look around!” He pointed wildly at the room, the walls, the locked reality of it all. “We were kidnapped and now we are trapped!! We need to figure a way to get out of here…. NOW!”

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The words hung heavy, impossible to ignore. As they looked at one another, the young men’s faces couldn’t hide the fear of the predicament they realized they were in. Before anyone can respond a robotic percussion played over speakers, pierced by an off-key wail of a recorder. The armor-plated door at the front of the warehouse groaned open. Through the eerie din, twenty masked figures in canary-yellow jumpsuits marched in lockstep, their movements synchronized with the beat. Each clutched a machine gun across their chest, their faces hidden behind black masks. Most were marked with either an embroidered white circle or triangle, three stood apart, bearing a bold yellow diamond that stretched from chin to crown. As the small army stood at attention on the platform, one of the diamond-marked figures stepped forward. The music vanished as if on cue, leaving an uneasy silence for the militant officer to address the masses.

🔶 – I would like to extend a heartfelt welcome to you all. Everyone here will participate in six different games in over six different days. Those who win all six games will receive a handsome prize. 

118 – And why should we believe that? Yo-uuuh took all our stuff and put us to sleep coming here. And then you brought us to this strange warehouse. Now you’re saying you’re going to pay us if we play some games? You really expect us to buy that? 

🔶 – We reluctantly took all of those measures to maintain confidentiality as we brought you here. We’ll return everything after the games are over. 

005 – You’ll…  you all have masks. Why are you wearing those things? 

🔶 – We do not disclose the faces and personal information of our staff to any of the participants. It’s a measure we take to ensure fair games and confidentiality. Please understand. 

020– I don’t trust anything you just said. You tricked us, kidnapped us, imprisoned us. And now you are going to keep making excuses not to show your faces to us. So give us one reason why we should believe anything you say. 

Without a word, the officer brandished a remote and ignited a massive screen on the wall behind him. The glow washed over the room as the display began cycling through disparaging footage of the very men standing in the room. He began listing names. 

🔶 – Prospect 020 – Inability to work his pitches east and west.

🔶 – Prospect 005 – Lack of a third pitch and questionable command. 

🔶 – Prospect 134 – No out pitch due to lack of quality breaking pitches. 

🔶 – Prospect 056 – Pitching repertoire lacks a swing and miss pitch.  

🔶 – Prospect 047 – Hitters had a .323 BABIP against last season. 

🔶 – Prospect 011 – Inconsistent change-up limits upside. 

The once lively bunch drew silent.

🔶 – Every person standing in this room is at the cusp of stardom, yet each of you carries your own shortcomings. Thus making your ranking at the top feel precipitous… vulnerable to a single unflattering report from us. When we scouted the statline and first mentioned each of you, not a single one of you was ranked by any major publication. But as you all know, today you are all recognized as promising fantasy pitching prospects. We gave you credibility and validity. And suddenly every analyst praises you.  Your teams and agents that represent you called us on your behalf and agreed to the parameters of the games because of our reputation in the industry. So this is it, I will give you one last chance to choose. Will you go back to toiling in the minors living a mundane and tedious life with the hopes that you will get called up in several weeks, months, years… if ever at all? Or will you act and seize this opportunity to make a name for yourself.

The array of young pitching talent began to buzz as they contemplated those what was just said. 

PROSPECT 099 – Hey! Which games are we playing here? 

🔶 – In order to play fair, we cannot disclose any information about the game ahead of time. 

PROSPECT 156 – One question. If we win, just what do we get?

With a flick of his thumb, the officer triggered the remote. The tension in the room snapped as an immense blinking LED display board lowered from the rafters, accompanied by what sounded like an Atari video game sound effect that echoed through.

🔶 – Your prize is the coveted top spot of the Subjective Nescience Rankings. Your rankings will be updated on the board up there after every game. We will disclose our analysis to everyone after the final game is over. If you do not wish to participate then please let us know at this time.

PROSPECT 005 – Subjective what-ttt? What is that! 

PROSPECT 134 – Yeah, I never heard of them! 

PROSPECT 056 – Who cares! No one has ever heard of those rankings anyway! 

PROSPECT 111 – We want out!! 

The grumbling grew. Sensing the shift, one of the other militant officers shouldered past the first officer to take the lead. Without hesitation he aimed his gun to the rafters and let off several deafening bursts of fire.

🔶🔶 – Listen! By being at the top of these rankings not only will you be renowned across the fantasy world but you will also be on the fast track to being a starting pitcher on a major league rotation and fulfill your dreams. 

The prospects’ groans grew louder in disbelief from what was just said. The small army of soldiers raised their guns in anticipation of a rebellion, but the figure now standing at the forefront calmly motioned for them to lower their weapons.

🔶🔶 – I understand all of your reluctance. Fine… I will divulge a bit of information that was originally meant to be revealed to those of you who win… Whoever reaches the end will also receive a cash prize. For every demoted prospect, one hundred thousand dollars will be added to a pot… meaning the winner stands to claim $15,500,000.

The room erupted in euphoria. Meanwhile, the two other yellow-diamond officers turned to one another. Beneath their masks they exchanged a moment of silent perplexity.

🔶🔶 – So with the parameters in place. We will ask again. If you do not wish to participate then please let us know at this time. Otherwise, from here on now your participation is mandatory till you are demoted or the sixth game is completed.

A charged hush fell over the crowd as they leaned forward waiting for the next words. 

🔶🔶 – Good. We will move forward then. Now, unfortunately it has come to our attention that some of you were not cleared by our scouts earlier today. This is due to either an undisclosed injury, prospect fatigue, or a discrepancy with prospect eligibility. So, those of you who fall into any of these categories will have a red cross on the inside pocket of your jacket.

Everyone in the mass of robin blue frantically looked in their jackets.

🔶🔶 – When I call your number please come up and stand at the other end of the platform. I will then reveal your name, the reason you were demoted, and your 2026 Subjective Nescience Ranking.  

• PROSPECT 144 – Alejandro Rosario – Washington Nationals – Ineligible due to injury – Ranking #66 
• PROSPECT 027 – River Ryan – Los Angeles Dodgers – Ineligible due to injury – Ranking #72 
• PROSPECT 024 – Daniel Espino – Cleveland Guardians – Ineligible due to prospect fatigue – Ranking #148
• PROSPECT 063 – Tink Hence – St. Louis Cardinals – Ineligible due to injury and prospect fatigue – Ranking #156
• PROSPECT 075 – Didier Fuentes – Atlanta Braves – Ineligible due to injury – Ranking #154
• PROSPECT 028 – Humberto Cruz – San Diego Padres – Ineligible due to injury – Ranking #153 
• PROSPECT 023 – Chase Burns – Cincinnati Reds – Ineligible due to discrepancy in prospect eligibility – Ranking #3 and StS Peak Projections #1 Overall Ranked Prospect
• PROSPECT 001 – Brandon Sproat – Milwaukee Brewers – Ineligible due to prospect fatigue – Ranking #150

Prospect 001 (Sproat) shoulders slump and he looks down. He couldn’t hide how dejected he felt. Prospect 156 puts up a half hearted smile and playfully slaps him on the shoulder.

PROSPECT 156 – Hey! Old man, Sproat! Now you have a head start on all of us in making the majors. You don’t need the help from these rankings. I’m sure I’ll see you in the starting rotation for the Brew Crew when the season starts.

PROSPECT 001 BRANDON SPROAT – Thank you, friend. That’s strange I had no clue I was now on Milwaukee. I guess I’ll have a better chance of making the rotationh. My team have several quality starters on their roster and in the minors. Sproat slowly pulled up his left sleeve to reveal the red apple tattoo with the Mets Logo inside it. I guess I will have to find a good tattoo artist to change this to the Brewer logo. The babyfaced 156 looked at the tattoo in disbelief but only moments later a smile flashed across his face. He took off his jacket to show the exact same tattoo on his left bicep. The old chap couldn’t help but smile as he whispered, “I guess it really is a small world. I’ll see you in the show, kid.” They dap each other up while their allies pat Sproat on the back and gave him words of encouragement. Sproat drudges his way up to the platform with the other demoted pitching prospects. 

🔶🔶 – I would like to thank all of you that are up here right now. You are all very talented and deserve your ranking but because of unfortunate circumstances that are outside of your control. We have no choice but to demote you. Each of you are now ineligible to be the top ranked pitching prospect in the 2026 Subjective Nescience Ranking and also ineligible to win the $15,500,000 pot. Now before we proceed, are there any other prospects who believes they are physically unable to participate in the games? Please, speak up now. 

Silence was the only reply as ​Prospect 039 gazed at 071, waiting for a response, but 071 only winced, tucking his chin into his chest as he kept his eyes to the floor.

🔶🔶 – Fine. 

The officer turned his back to the prospects and gave a quick nod to his troops. In perfect unison, the guards raised their rifles and unleashed hell upon the group. The air shattered with the roar of gunfire. The prospects watched in paralyzed horror.

🔶🔶 – The games will begin later today.

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Please understand that this is a parody of the Netflix series Squid Game. The “demoting” of these characters, who are based on real people, is intended purely as satire. In no way do I condone violence; this is simply my personal creative interpretation. It does not reflect the views or opinions of anyone associated with Scout the Statline or the website besides myself.

Thank you,

RFF