LSU’s decision to bench key freshman talents in the lineup heading into their high-stakes clash with Coastal Carolina was a seismic shift—a move that shocked fans, rattled reporters, and instantly became the defining moment of College World Series week. The Tigers, fresh off a dominant run to the finals, had emerged as one of the most physically imposing and strategically flexible teams in college baseball. Still, head coach Jay Johnson’s choice to sideline several prized newcomers before Game 1 sparked waves of reaction: questions, speculation, and more than a little anxiety among expectations.
The roster shake‑up centered on three freshmen who had been key elements throughout the season: outfielder **Derek Curiel**, hurler **Casan Evans**, and utility arm **William Schmidt**. Each had become a breakout contributor: Curiel, entering as a top recruit, had earned Second-Team All-American honors and anchored left field with a potent bat; Evans, the fiery reliever, had posted a 2.05 ERA with 71 strikeouts across 52 ⅔ innings; Schmidt, though more experimental, offered depth on the mound. Together they rounded out an underclass contingent that jaggedly lifted LSU’s depth beyond veteran expectations .
Yet less than 48 hours before their Saturday evening duel with Coastal Carolina’s potent rotation, Johnson announced that none of the three would be in the Game 1 lineup—Curiel out of the outfield rotation, Evans unavailable from the bullpen, and Schmidt absent from the 25-man roster entirely. The reason, he said, boiled down to “matchup integrity”—a tactical recalibration designed not to punish, but to maximize flexibility against a team riding a 26-game win streak behind serviceable arms and a scrappy small-ball offense .
What did that mean in practice? LSU’s starters and relievers have been the primary architects of their success. Freshman phenom Anthony Eyanson and senior ace Kade Anderson had carved through the toughest lineups, with Eyanson anchoring Saturday’s opener by firing six scoreless innings and Anderson delivering a complete-game shutout to seal Game 1 of the finals. And in late innings, LSU’s bullpen—notably Chase Shores (hitting triple digits) and unsung sophomore Jaden Noot—had neutralized opposition rallies and closed doors on Coastal’s late-game threats.
By benching Curiel, Evans, and Schmidt, Johnson shifted to a rotation-dependent, veteran-forward strategy. In effect, he elected to stay “aggressive yet cautious”: relying on polished arms to face Coastal’s lineup and leaning on position players with postseason experience. That meant putting senior Jared Jones and junior Daniel Dickinson in extended infield roles; rotating defensive alignments that factored in pitching changes; and maintaining bullpen arms familiar with the nuances of late-inning playoffs.
The response—especially from local media and fan forums—was immediate and impassioned. Some argued that benched freshmen reduced bench depth at a time when depth was key. Curiel had come off a season hitting .348 with 55 RBI, ranked top 10 in SEC doubles, hits, and OBP . His ability to impact in clutch situations—especially mid-game pinch-hitting—had been proven before. Meanwhile, Evans’ fastball-changeup-slider mix had erupted into mid-90s heat; why mute that weapon in a do-or-die miniseries? The third wave, Schmidt, was viewed by scouts as a future weekend starter—not icing the cake tonight did little to quell the leak.
But Johnson—never one afraid of unpopular tactical pivots—stood firm. Citing Coastal’s deep rotation of Flukey, Morrison, and Eikhoff, he stressed the need for a calm pitching-handling strategy before turning to “electrifying” but potentially volatile freshmen. He praised Curiel’s defense but operationally favored veteran matchups in late innings, especially against sacrifice plays and situational hitting. The redistribution of innings and at-bats spotlighted veteran plate discipline, quality count-based hitting, and the ability to shift gears on the basepaths—a prerequisite when facing a “Coastal baseball” club known for small-ball, situational hit-and-run, and heavy strike-zone discipline.
Behind the scenes, whispers hinted at another layer: rest and draft preservation. With top prospects soon to enter the MLB draft conversation, full utilization in a tight series could risk injury or overexposure. Protecting young arms and emerging bats might not just preserve performance, but also keep futures bright. Eyanson and Anderson each logged over 100 innings; exposing Evans or Schmidt to game stress could tip the draft scales or risk exhaustion before fall ball. This reading gained traction after LSU’s postseason depth had carried them through grueling wins over Arkansas and UCLA over consecutive nights .
Fans and commentators split: optimists praised the call. They argued LSU’s nucleus—anchored by All‑American juniors and sturdy veterans—was battle‑hardened, offensively and defensively. One letter writer on LSUXtra noted, “Johnson’s depth chart is deeper than most coaching staffs’ entire roster. The freshmen are sitting, but the power arms are plugged in.” Critics worried: benching proven performers before the biggest stage could invite unforced errors. Could a secondary reliever overheat? Could secondary outfield coverage falter under pressure? Could Curiel have offered a pinch-hit spark in late innings?
Then came the showdown. LSU unleashed their core: Anderson on the mound for Game 1, Eyanson following in Game 2, supported by a bullpen featuring Shores, Noot, DJ Primeaux, and sophomore Gavin Guidry. Coastal Carolina struck first in Game 2, with a home run by Dean Mihos after an early ejection of their head coach Kevin Schnall and first-base coach Matt Schilling—a moment that instantly shifted atmosphere on the field. Coastal had early momentum; LSU stayed poised.
In Game 1, Anderson was unflappable—three-hit shutout, 10 strikeouts, absolute command. Game 2, Eyanson matched him with 6 1/3 innings of strong work, allowing only three runs. The bullpen held firm. Shores unleashed triple-digit fastballs in the seventh inning to quash threats, retiring all batters and striking out four over 2 2/3 innings .
The offense responded explosively, with RBI doubles from Ethan Frey, two-run singles from Chris Stanfield and Derek Curiel. Yes—Curiel did appear in Game 2’s lineup again, sparking the offense with his timely hit—a reminder that, at least offensively, the freshman could still impact crucial innings. His return struck a balance: letting the veterans open the series, but reintroducing youth mid-series once intensity was set.
When LSU closed out the 5 – 3 Game 2 win to sweep Coastal and claim their eighth national championship, the benched freshmen had largely played supportive roles. The glory belonged to the starters, the anchors, and the defined roles each athlete understood before stepping onto the field. Johnson’s recalibration, though bold, paid dividends. Eyanson and Anderson claimed national spotlight; bullpen depth sealed victory; Curiel’s mid-series bat reminded everyone why depth matters.
In postgame reflections, Johnson explained: “We love our freshmen. They earned every rep. But when you’re racing for a title, it’s matchup chess, not lineup loyalty. We leaned on experience early, then brought younger guys when the stakes demanded fresh legs and sharp swings. That’s balance.” Curiel, Evans, and Schmidt offered support from the bench, digesting Lions’ roar, watching history unfold—and learning.
From a broader perspective, the decision illustrates a modern truth in March–June baseball: rosters are deep, roles are fluid, and coaching stretches far beyond Xs and Os. Balancing player development, mental readiness, draft visibility, and situational savvy represents a mastery not often framed in boxscores. Johnson’s roster shake‑up began as a gamble but ended as triumphant poker: fold early, bet big midgame, and collect on top.
If critics encountered cause to complain, it was brief. The sweet aftermath of title champagne drowned them out. Coastal’s loss—compounded by ejections, baserunning errors, and LSU’s strategic masterstroke—cemented this as one of the more polished postseason runs in recent memory. And though coastal chants echoed in Omaha, they soon echoed on ESPN highlight reels—highlighting LSU’s relentless focus and tactical maturity.
For the freshmen, lessons abound. Curiel sent a message: even when benched, opportunity remains. Evans and Schmidt will carry this forward: preparation, respect, and timing matter, and Johnson’s confidence in them is unshaken. They weren’t benched in frustration; they were benched in purpose—so when circumstance called, they’d leap in, fresh and ready. Expect to see all three in commanding roles next season.
Ultimately, LSU’s choice to bench freshmen went from surprising shake‑up to masterstroke. It reminded fans why depth matters, why coaching matters, and why wins are earned not just in games, but in the decisions that precede them. The title vanquished doubts; the strategy becomes legend. Louisiana State University is a baseball machine built to win—not just once, but again and again, with strength in youth and wisdom in maturity, all woven together by coaching that isn’t afraid to press pause on the bright lights, in order to seize them when they shine brightest.
