If Pope Leo throws out a first pitch he’ll be the latest in a long time of baseball popes

The hype behind the Chicago White Sox is at a fever pitch, with rumors are swirling over who could throw out a first pitch for the team in the ALCS, and perhaps beyond. There’s no shortage of celebrity superfans of the Sox, including Barack Obama, Michael Jordan, and Snoop Dogg — but easily the most fascinating would be Pope Leo XIV, who has made his public love of the team known.

The benefit of having a Chicago Pope is that we get an official Vatican stance on who the church wants to win at baseball. That said, it would be a huge mistake to assume that just because Leo is the only American to be pope, he’s the ONLY pope capable of throwing out a first pitch. I poured over 2000 years of artistic renditions and papal data to find out that there’s a staggering amount of evidence that numerous popes had incredible signature pitches.

We’ll get the easy one out of the way. Leo is a lock for the top spot here. Firstly, he’s alive — which is a critical prerequisite to throwing a baseball pitch. He’s also 71, which is pretty spry in Pope terms, and he was raised with baseball. Leo has the best innate understanding of the game, and can get the job done right now.

As seen in the artist’s depiction above, Pius V loved to show off his pitching arm — even in official portraits. His extremely long, slender index and middle fingers gave him a wicked slider that would make for a great first pitch. We don’t know his height, but I’m getting some real Randy Johnson vibes off Pius Vs frame. He’s the big unit of the Papal legacy.

Now THAT’S a sly pitcher’s face if ever I saw one. Here we can see Adrian VI show off his incredible two-seamer, which he got incredible movement off. One batter at the time called it “unholy,” which led to his immediate execution.

The 14th-century Mariano Rivera, Pope Urban V was nicknamed “Killjoy,” because of how quickly he ended papal baseball games with his splitter. The above painting, commissioned shortly after the 1363 Papal All-Star game, depicts two players crushed that they made the 800-mile pilgrimage for the game, only to see it end in 57 minutes because nobody could hit Pope Urban’s gas. The pope is both proud of his performance, but also feels the judging eyes of those around him for not being a better sport.

Pope John VIII loved his changeup so much that he even scratched his chin with a pitcher’s grip. Some believed this is because he loved baseball so much that his hand had wizened into this shape, but others believe that John VIII really enjoyed letting everyone know that he was throwing his changeup — all the time, even at meals. It was a 9th century pitcher’s version of Babe Ruth calling his shot.

One of the slept-on popes when it comes to pitching ability. “Crazy Fingers Gregory” could throw a wild array of pitches because his fingers snaked over the ball like a handful of dropped gummy worms. In 996 he led the Papal League in both strikeouts AND wild pitches, because his command was so problematic.

Clement II’s big problem was confidence. Pitching coaches tried to convince him that he could be a legendary forkball thrower, considering he was able to palm an ornate bible without thinking twice — but he just didn’t have the confidence to ever become elite.

One of the first Popes to benefit from photography, Leo XIII was always seen gripping with his right hand, ever so slightly. A classic knuckleball pitcher, Leo XIII referred to his signature throw as “The Lord’s Pitch.” He told fellow players of the time: “Only the lord knows where my throw is going. I let it rip, and God does the work.”

A no-nonsense four-seam pitcher, Pope Honorius III was the antithesis of a fancy player. He just wanted to hit the field and throw gas. Notably, Honorius III was the first pope to refer to papal pitching as “deliving the sermon from the mound,” which would be repeated for centuries thereafter.

Pope Benedict V was known for having a staggeringly good splitter, but he was forever held back from becoming one of the greats due to the fact that his head permanently rested at a 60-degree angle.