Why do those two clash? Inside the legendary Gerrit Cole-Trevor Bauer rivalry at UCLA

As the baseball bounded into foul territory, tracking toward the left-field corner at Jackie Robinson Stadium in Los Angeles, the two competitors would bolt from the home dugout. They’d sprint on the dirt track, past the bullpen, and beeline for the ball. They were the top college pitchers in the country, chasing records, chasing greatness, chasing each other. Their parents would watch the footrace from the bleachers and wince.

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An injury could cost their sons millions in the MLB draft and doom UCLA’s dreams of a College World Series title. But Gerrit Cole and Trevor Bauer couldn’t bear losing to the other.

“Those are two very competitive dudes,” says former UCLA pitcher Zack Weiss.

They were just college kids then, all potential and everything still to prove. They were UCLA’s pair of aces. They spit fire. They threw gas. They frustrated and fueled each other. This was before Cole and Bauer were drafted first and third overall in the 2011 Draft, before the big leagues, before the sticky-substances speculation, before they joined the Yankees and Dodgers, before they were the highest-paid pitchers in the game, before they were Cy Young candidates on World Series contenders in baseball’s biggest markets. Back then, they were starting back to back for the Bruins and battling for foul balls, side by side in the tinderbox of college baseball.

Former UCLA assistant coach Steve Pearse remembers watching an ESPN documentary a few years ago called “Best of Enemies,” about the Celtics and Lakers, about Larry Bird and Magic Johnson. Pearse was struck by how much the Bird-Magic dynamic reminded him of Cole-Bauer.

“You can’t say one name without the other,” Pearse says. “It’s sort of a weird deal. It’s Cole-Bauer. It’s Mantle-Maris. It’s McGwire-Sosa. It’s Bird-Magic. They’ll always sort of be connected that way.”

Their three years together feels like a box no one wants to crack open.

Over MLB’s most recent offseason, almost as many former UCLA teammates declined interviews as accepted them. Bruins head coach John Savage turned one down, too. Cole considered The Athletic’s request for a few weeks then said he preferred to focus on the present. Bauer’s agent, Rachel Luba, said a publicist would be in touch. A follow-up received no reply.

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None of that is terribly surprising. The story that is told about their time at UCLA, the one that has generated buzz in Major League clubhouses and press boxes, is about their rivalry and how they butted heads. Everyone has a theory about how it started. No one really knows for sure. Cole never addresses it. Bauer hasn’t held back, exactly — he once told reporters he and Cole spoke only once in their first six years after school — but he has tried smoothing things over. In May 2018, former UCLA assistant Rick Vanderhook told USA Today the odds of Cole and Bauer ending their feud were worse than “the odds of the earth burning up.” In the same story, an anonymous Astros starter said the rift was “all jealousy” on Bauer’s part. So, later that day, Bauer joked that Cleveland’s TV crew should Photoshop his face to be green with envy. Bauer claimed that at UCLA Cole had insulted his work ethic and said he didn’t have a future in baseball.

“I didn’t appreciate it,” Bauer said at the time, “so we had a rocky relationship. But those feelings have long since faded. I’m happy he’s having success. … I’d love nothing more than to trade Cy Youngs with him for the next 10 years.”

And yet, after all that, Bauer now calls that narrative a “fictitious beef,” a “fake news story,” a media creation. He’s tired of it, true or untrue as it may be.

So, the box has been shut. For more than a decade now, former teammates and coaches and others close to the UCLA baseball program have been asked, over drinks or dinner, what it was like when Bauer and Cole were in college. When they do open up, they talk about the pitchers like human beings, not warring baseball gods. They tell stories about road trips, rap tracks and Bauer’s favorite faded cap. They say the rift is overstated, more bickering than throwing blows. “It makes for great storytelling, right?” first baseman Cody Decker says. “There’s a feud there, for sure, but it’s not a blood feud.” Weiss echoes him. “Maybe they’re not going to hang out and go have a beer together after the game is over,” Weiss says. “But when the lights are on, it’s business. Those two made each other better.”

They consider Bauer and Cole a case study in getting similar, spectacular results from two pitchers with wildly different processes, physiques and personalities.

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“At the end of the day, why do those two clash? It’s because of that,” says Rob Rasmussen, who shared the rotation with Cole and Bauer at UCLA. “They just ultimately believed they could take two different roads to reach the same destination. And they each wanted to prove that their road was the best one.”

When Cole showed up to UCLA workouts in the summer before his freshman year in 2008, even those who didn’t know him knew of him. “That’s what happens when you throw 100 mph in high school and get drafted in the first round by the Yankees,” Rasmussen says. The Yankees had taken Cole 28th overall out of Orange Lutheran High. They had from June 5 until Aug. 15 to sign him. Bruins players were certain Cole’s training with them was a tactic Scott Boras, his advisor, was using to squeeze the Yankees for a bigger signing bonus.

“You thought, ‘OK, it sounded nice. Gerrit could come here and be the Friday night starter. But now he can go take $4 million as an 18-year-old. How can he turn that down?’” says Danny Lee, a former UCLA broadcaster.

On campus the day before the signing deadline, Cole asked Decker, the team’s senior captain, “Hey, Cody, you think I’m going to be here tomorrow?”

“I looked at him and said, ‘No. If you are, I’m going to kill you,’” Decker recalls. “He asked why. I’m like, ‘Because you’re being offered so much money. … If you turn down your money, I’m going to lose my mind.’

“He looked me dead in the eye and, without even an ounce of (sarcasm), says, ‘Or I’ll just play here for three years, go first overall and sign for $10 million.’

“I’m like, ‘Oh my God, I hate you.’ I just remember how irate I was that this cocky kid had the balls to say that to me. I’m like, you idiot, you have no idea how this business works. Turns out, he knew way more than me.”

If Cole walked in with an air of supreme confidence, Bauer arrived a lone wolf.

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Bauer graduated from Hart High in Santa Clarita, Calif., a semester early, with a 4.8 GPA, and enrolled at UCLA in 2009, after the holidays. He was there to study mechanical engineering and make hitters look silly. He did both. But Bauer wasn’t one to bend over backward to fit in, especially at 17, and his aloofness and independence irritated teammates. Bauer had honed his workout routine and his arm-care program in high school, focusing on flexibility and mobility rather than on adding muscle in the weight room. Savage signed off on Bauer working out alone, so long as he pitched well.

A few weeks after Bauer arrived at UCLA, Cole, who had bonded and built trust with teammates throughout the summer and fall, ripped Bauer in front of everyone in the weight room for not following the same strength-and-conditioning program as them. That, Bauer told Sports Illustrated, was when Cole told him he had no future in baseball. “I was like, ‘F— you, Gerrit,’” Bauer said.

“As I look back on it, 10 years later, there were certainly things that Trevor could have done — and I think he would admit the same thing — that would have ingratiated himself to the team a little bit more,” Rasmussen says. “But there were certainly things that we could have done as 18- to 21-year-old punks to treat him better and welcome him more.”

“He was 17. He didn’t really know the nuances of the team. He was just thrust into it,” Decker adds. “At the time, I think it was all of our faults, including mine, that we didn’t recognize that.”

Once, around 10 p.m. on a weeknight, Pearse was sitting in the coaches’ office at Jackie Robinson Stadium when he started hearing noises.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“I’m going, what the heck?” Pearse says. “I thought it was possums playing handball.”

Puzzled, Pearse walked out of the office and around to the back of the stadium. It was almost completely dark outside. Thump. Pearse flipped on a floodlight and saw Bauer throwing weighted balls against a cinder-block wall.

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“What the hell are you doing here?” Pearse asked.

“Just getting my workout in, Coach,” Bauer replied.

For three years at UCLA, Bauer was true to his routine. Weiss remembers driving in for a 6 a.m. session in the weight room and seeing Bauer already in the parking lot with medicine balls and resistance bands. “He was 100 percent busting his ass.” Weiss says. After Bauer backed up his training methods with results on the mound, the workouts caused less friction, though no one forgot the initial strain between Bauer and the rest of the Bruins.

“You essentially become a fraternity at that point in your life,” Rasmussen says. “If there’s one person who’s not including themselves in a lot of stuff, then, yeah. Especially if they’re having success, right? It’s easy to MF someone when they’re having success and not having to do the things that you have to do.

“But what’s not shown is the times that he was doing it when we weren’t.”

For all of the hype he carried as a freshman, Cole and his bravado fit well with the Bruins. He was boisterous, unafraid to speak up. He toed the line between confident and cocky. He worked hard. He was a good hang. One day, Savage told Rasmussen he’d be rooming with Cole on road trips. “Coach Savage said, ‘Hang out with Gerrit and show him the ropes,’” Rasmussen remembers. “I was like, ‘What do you want me to show this guy? I can tell him where the good food is in Eugene, Ore., but I’d like him to teach me that fastball.’”

At 6 feet 4 and 215 pounds — with three inches and 40 pounds on Bauer — Cole was “like the Create-a-Player you made on video games,” says outfielder Jeff Gelalich. Decker says, “You could close your eyes and hear his bullpens.”

In the second game of the 2009 season, UCLA got a glimpse of its future. Cole went six innings against UC Davis, allowing an unearned run, and Bauer pitched a perfect ninth for the save. Later, in a midseason sweep of Washington, Cole had a season-high 13 strikeouts. The next day, Bauer, who didn’t start regularly until the season’s second half, threw a complete-game one-hitter.

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They were oil and water, yet they were outstanding.

“If Gerrit pitched on Friday night and struck out 11,” Pearse says, “you’d better believe Trevor wanted to come back on Saturday and strike out 12. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

By the end of the season, Bauer led UCLA in wins (nine), ERA (2.99), innings pitched (105 1/3) and youth (newly 18 years old). He went 7-0 in Pac-10 play and was named the conference’s freshman of the year. Bauer was quieter than Cole in the clubhouse, but just as fiery on the field. “If he had an inning he didn’t like and you patted him on the back, he would snap at you and say, ‘That was terrible. Get away from me,’” Decker says. “I’d have to legitimately pull guys away from him to not fight him.” But, Decker adds, it wouldn’t be fair to focus only on the freshman season. “He was a kid, man.”

“I tell the baggage claim story a lot.”

Gelalich is thinking of a specific instance, but the truth is there’s a whole genre of stories about Bauer and baggage claims. See, one element in Bauer’s arm-care routine was a shoulder tube — a six-foot javelin-like pole with a handle in the middle and weights at the ends. Before picking up a baseball, Bauer would warm up by wiggling the tube around in the air. He took it everywhere. For road trips, he’d pack the tube in its protective case and check it at the airport.

One Sunday night, the Bruins were on a Southwest flight headed home to Los Angeles after an East Coast swing. A bus waited to take them to campus. The players and staff collected their equipment at baggage claim around midnight.

Everything was there except for Bauer’s shoulder tube.

“So, we waited,” Gelalich says. “And waited.”

“We were like, really?” outfielder Brett Krill says.

“We sat at LAX for an hour,” Weiss says, laughing, “because they lost his javelin.”

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The first time Bauer’s shoulder tube went missing in an airport was a week into his college career, when UCLA arrived in Houston for a six-team showcase at Minute Maid Park — a ballpark Cole would later call home. Bauer “basically told the whole team he refused to pitch” unless the tube was recovered, according to Decker, which further distanced Bauer from his teammates. To them, it was stubbornness. To him, a strict arm-care routine wasn’t optional.

Today, Bauer is seen as one of the pioneers of a pitching revolution. A few chapters of Ben Lindbergh and Travis Sawchik’s 2019 book “The MVP Machine” are devoted to Bauer’s unconventional climb and nonconformist approach. His training methods — weighted balls, shoulder tubes, resistance bands, max training, pulldowns and long toss — are now used at all levels. New-age pitching terminology, with phrases like “tunneling” and “spin axis” and “perceived velocity,” now seeps into broadcasts, no longer treated as an entirely foreign language to the average fan.

Ten years ago, though, Bauer was mostly alone.

“Gerrit Cole is the guy who has perfect pitch,” Lee says, “and can pick up an instrument and learn it in a week. Trevor Bauer is the guy who is good at it, but he spends hours and hours and hours practicing and learning chords. Not everybody has quote-unquote perfect pitch. Some people get that way by working nonstop. It’s hard not to respect a guy who does that.”

Former UCLA assistant T.J. Bruce, now Nevada’s head coach, remembers seeing Bauer’s foul-pole-to-foul-pole long-toss routine for the first time. Bruce had questions. So, later that day, he sat on the bench beside Bauer. “We talked for an hour,” Bruce says. “He explained everything. It was so interesting.” Another time, after a game, a teenager asked Bauer for a few pitching tips. Bauer stopped, sat down and talked to the kid until it was time to leave.

“Now, I kind of laugh,” Weiss says. “People have their own opinions of Trevor in the media and on social media, but everything he was doing in 2011 is now commonplace in Major League Baseball in 2021. He took a ton of heat to get it there. Man, he was met with a good amount of adversity along the way, but now it’s like, ‘He was right. You guys were wrong. Sorry.’”

Whatever differences the Bruins had when Bauer and Cole were freshmen were mostly ironed out by 2010. Behind a weekend rotation of Cole (11-4, 3.37 ERA), Bauer (12-3, 3.02) and Rasmussen (11-3, 2.72), UCLA started the season winning one series after another. Five wins in a row. Ten. Fifteen.

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“It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” Rasmussen says, laughing. “I always joked that I threw 91-mph changeups after the two of them. I threw a fastball and slider, and it was like I was throwing slow-pitch softball up there.”

The Bruins won their first 20 games, then 21 and 22.

They tell you correlation is not causation, but UCLA’s 22-0 start — the longest win streak in program history, the one that laid the foundation for the Bruins’ first trip to the College World Series since 1997 — began just days after Bauer walked into the clubhouse with a sheet of rap lyrics he had written.

If you’re the type to poke around on Reddit or Twitter, you may already have heard Bauer rap. (If not, just search Consummate 4sight.) But this track seems to have been lost to time. The way teammates remember it, Bauer had a handful of them collaborate, and they took turns on the mic as they recorded the track on a laptop. Each line was about a different teammate, talking up their talent with a rhyme or wordplay, and together they formed a hype song for the 2010 Bruins.

“It was really rad,” says Krill, one of the voices on the track. “It was one of those things where you’re like, damn, he really took time to get to know every single one of us and how we can help the team, then he put it into a song.

“I can’t remember the damn lines, but it was good.”

While coaches and teammates recall countless plays from UCLA’s 2010 postseason run with perfect clarity — like infielder Tyler Rahmatulla hitting a season-saving homer with the Bruins down to their last out in the Super Regionals, and Rasmussen tossing a two-hit complete game to send them to the College World Series — they keep coming back to Texas Christian.

After Bauer pitched UCLA past Florida in the College World Series opener, Cole took the mound against TCU at Rosenblatt Stadium in Omaha, Neb.

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“That was probably the loudest stadium I’ve ever been in,” Gelalich says. “I couldn’t hear myself think. I remember being nervous standing in left field, kind of all alone. But all of the pressure didn’t seem to impact Gerrit at all.”

Cole struck out the side in the first inning and never lost his stride, punching out 13 Horned Frogs and allowing three runs over eight innings in the 6-3 win. Still, TCU emerged from the loser’s bracket later for a rematch in the semis and took the first game from UCLA. In the second game, Bauer copied Cole whiff for whiff — eight innings, 13 strikeouts, three runs (two earned) and one win. At one point, which TCU fans have not forgotten, Bauer flashed a Horned Frogs sign to the cameras.

“It was poetry,” Krill says.

“Trevor just stuck it to them,” Gelalich adds.

After throwing 135 pitches against TCU, Bauer wasn’t available against South Carolina two days later in the first game of the best-of-three College World Series final. Cole started and was knocked around in a 7-1 loss. Rasmussen tossed six scoreless innings in the second game, but South Carolina’s Whit Merrifield walked off with a single in the 11th inning. As the Gamecocks flooded the field and their fans erupted, Cole sat on the bench with tears in his eyes. Bauer — the would-be Game 3 starter who had warmed up during Game 2 but never entered — stood at the top step of the dugout and just watched. When the teams shook hands, Bauer asked if he could touch the trophy. He gave it a wistful tap.

By the time Aaron Fitt walked into Savage’s office in January 2011, on assignment to write Baseball America’s preseason cover story about Cole and Bauer, it was clear UCLA’s aces would be taken at the top of the draft that summer. What wasn’t clear to him, not until sitting with Cole for 45 minutes and then Bauer for almost an hour and a half, was just how different they were.

Cole was professional and polished. He talked about his lessons learned, his coaches and the mental side of pitching. He was friendly and engaged, but said nothing especially surprising. Then Cole left and Bauer entered. Bauer was fascinating, candid, quietly intense. He took Fitt through his training regimen and his scientific approach to pitching. “Hearing him break it all down, it’s like, what planet is this guy from?” Fitt says. Bauer had carved his own path. A cookie-cutter approach is good for cookies, he said, but not for pitchers. He spoke about idolizing Tim Lincecum, “The Freak,” but then bristled at being called a freak or quirky or weird. “It gets kind of old sometimes,” Bauer said.

“It’s like no interview I’ve done to this day,” Fitt says.

Ten years later, the cover story paints a portrait of Cole and Bauer together that we haven’t seen since. When asked about their relationship, they alternate compliments and teasing, though you can sense there’s more bubbling beneath the surface. For example: Cole sees himself as a classic power pitcher and refers to Bauer as a “mixer” or a “thumber.” That really bothers Bauer.

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Then there’s this excerpt:

“It’s interesting: A lot of things (Cole) does —” Bauer pauses again, “— annoy me. We’re two different personalities. He’s very loud, kind of a vocal leader, in a sense. So at practices, he’s the one getting guys fired up — you know, ‘Yeah, great play!’ — that kind of stuff. I’m more of the sit-back, keep-to-myself, quiet, lead-by-example type. So when he’s out there yelling, for me it’s just like, ‘Oh Gerrit, just shut up.’ But I’m sure when I’m sitting there talking to someone about overlaying video and looking at pitch breaks and stuff like that, he’s probably sitting there thinking, ‘Oh Bauer, shut up.’ You know? So I think we have a pretty good relationship, for being two vastly, vastly different personality types.”

Maybe that quote was Bauer being as even-handed and thoughtful as he could be. It was also accurate. Still, Fitt learned later that Cole was ticked off by it.

The time to visit Lincoln, Neb., is not the first week of March.

“It was about 12 degrees,” says former UCLA assistant coach Jake Silverman. “Freezing cold.”

It was the Bruins’ first trip outside California in the 2011 season, Cole and Bauer’s last spring in Westwood, and the dueling aces were ready for the weather. Cole carried a perfect game into the seventh and shut out Nebraska over nine innings in a 1-0, 11-inning UCLA win. The next day, Bauer threw 10 innings of one-run baseball, striking out a career-high 17, in a game the Bruins lost, 2-1, in 12 innings.

A month later, Bauer struck out 17 again, against Stanford. After the game, he was noticeably upset. Weiss asked why. Bauer said he wanted to strike out 20. A couple of at-bats were eating at him. He’d missed a spot. He’d lost a borderline full-count call. And then Stanford’s Stephen Piscotty had hit a five-foot grounder on a two-strike curveball that almost bounced in the dirt.

“There were a lot of strikeouts that season on curveballs that barely got to the cut of the grass,” Weiss says. “People were beaten before they got in the box.”

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“Trevor and Gerrit both have this great desire to make really, really good hitters look bad,” Pearse says. “That’s just a trait that superstar pitchers have. They want to dominate the game. They want to dominate the hitter. They were something else. The best 1-2 combo, I would guess, in college baseball history.”

UCLA's aces: College stats

While UCLA claimed its first outright conference title since 1986, the Bruins’ season ended in the NCAA regional. Cole (3.31 ERA) did little to ding his draft stock as a junior, but that season belonged to Bauer, the first Golden Spikes Award winner in school history. He went 13-2 with a 1.25 ERA and capped the season with nine consecutive complete games, leaving as UCLA’s career leader in wins (34), strikeouts (460) and innings pitched (373 1/3).

For each Cole and Bauer start, scouts and cross-checkers were scattered in the stands behind home plate, wielding radar guns and notebooks. Silverman was responsible for scheduling scout interviews for the Bruins’ draft-eligible players. Now an assistant at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, Silverman hasn’t had another player meet with more than 12 teams. Cole and Bauer met with all 30. In those meetings, they were themselves.

“Gerrit was really good about giving teams the 15 to 20 minutes and then it was done, shake their hand, and out,” Silverman says. “Trevor, I had to interrupt a couple times, ‘Hey, let’s move on.’ Because he doesn’t care — in a good way. He’s going to give you everything. Whether you like it or not, whether you want to draft him or not, that’s your problem.”

Before Bauer’s last college start, in a 2011 NCAA regional, he had just finished warming up when Fresno State’s head coach came out of the dugout. The coach complained that Bauer wasn’t in UCLA’s proper uniform. His cap was the wrong color.

There was a story behind that cap.

During Bauer’s recruiting visit to UCLA, Savage handed him a Bruins baseball cap. (This was the same day Bauer, rather famously now, wore a Duke hat on campus. Ben Howland, the Bruins’ head basketball coach at the time, told Bauer to take it off. Bauer did not.) That blue UCLA baseball cap was the only one Bauer would wear throughout his college career. By his junior year, that cap was several shades lighter than his teammates’ caps. The lid was faded and frayed. But it fit just the way he liked. Bauer complained that new caps were bulky and uncomfortable, with corners that poked out and irked him.

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“He said he didn’t want to look like a train conductor,” Krill says.

And now the Fresno State coach was asking the umpires to make Bauer change his favorite cap.

“He was trying to do a little gamesmanship,” Weiss says. “Trevor was obviously not pleased. He proceeded to strike out everybody.”

Bauer struck out 14 in a complete-game win, passing Lincecum (199) and Mark Prior (202) to set the Pac-10’s single-season strikeout record at 203.

Ten years after leaving UCLA — after the Pirates drafted Cole first overall and the Diamondbacks took Bauer third — Bauer is brash, brutally honest, occasionally out of bounds. Cole is loudest when he’s on the mound. Bauer has one Cy Young. Cole has none. Bauer started a media company. Cole has tweeted once this year — congratulating his brother-in-law, Brandon Crawford. “They are literally nothing alike,” says one former teammate. Another compares them to golf rivals Brooks Koepka and Bryson DeChambeau, the natural and the mad scientist. “The good Lord put Cole on this earth to be a big-league pitcher,” a former coach says. A teammate adds, “Gerrit could have pitched in 1896 or 2021.” Bauer is styled as more of a self-made star, an inventor tinkering, tweaking knobs, trying to maximize his talent. “If you told Trevor, ‘There’s no way in hell you can throw 100 mph,’ he will do everything in his power to do that,” the coach says, “just to prove you wrong.”

Cole loves baseball history. Bauer wants to change the game, to drag it into the 21st century, to perfect the science of pitching by looking where others haven’t.

Yet their careers are tangled and intertwined, bound by the backstory.

UCLA's aces: Big league stats

Former UCLA teammates and coaches find the notion that Bauer and Cole can’t coexist outrageous. “I see that narrative in the media, and I laugh,” Gelalich says. They fell two wins short of a College World Series title but helped build the Bruins team that won it in 2013. So, when someone fishes for gossip about those days at UCLA, former Bruins tell a story like this instead: It was the last home series of the Bauer-Cole era. The Bruins were ahead, 2-1, in the ninth inning against Cal, and Bauer was still pitching. With two outs and the tying run on second, Cal’s Devon Rodriguez stepped into the batter’s box.

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Bauer and Rodriguez had history. They’d gone to high school together. Earlier in the game, Rodriguez doubled and flied out to the warning track. In the ninth, Rodriguez smacked a ground ball that deflected off UCLA’s first baseman and directly to the second baseman, who flipped to Bauer covering first. Bauer turned and said something to Rodriguez. They jawed back and forth, and the benches and bullpens cleared.

“I know for a fact, because I saw it, the first person out there to defend Trevor on the field was Gerrit,” Silverman says. “The whole team was there, but it’s not like Gerrit said, ‘Oh, it’s Trevor. I’m not getting involved.’ If you really had disdain for somebody, you’re not going to go out there and defend them and have their back. Say whatever you want, but that speaks volumes.”

Adds Weiss, “People always ask me about them and assume my answers will be negative. I’m like, ‘Dude, none of it was negative. They were both super helpful, solid teammates who really, really, truly gave a shit.’ In college, not everyone always cares. They did.”

(Illustration: John Bradford / The Athletic / Associated Press photos)

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