DETROIT — To understand part of who Tarik Skubal is, how he was raised and how he got here, it’s important to revisit the moment his older brother, Tyler, approached their father, Russ, in the garage. With Tyler was Tyler’s friend and basketball teammate Wil Jones. Jones’ home situation was tough. His father died before he was born. His mother, he says, battled drug addiction. He bounced between foster homes for the first eight years of his life until, finally, he went to live full time with his aunt and uncle.
“It was rough,” Jones said. “A very rough childhood.”
He grew up in Lancaster, Calif., but by high school, the family moved to the small town of Kingman, Ariz. The move was a culture shock, compounded by the fact his household was crowded. He had sisters. His aunt and uncle had children of their own and were caring for two grandchildren to boot. Jones speaks highly of his relatives, but the household was strict to a fault. And reality was that certain needs — clothes, basketball shoes, general attention — went unmet, he says. Every family dynamic has its layers and complexities. This one had a lot. One thing led to another. Jones surfed on friends’ couches, briefly lived with another family, until that family decided to move to Phoenix.
With nowhere left to turn, he discussed the situation with Tyler, who promptly suggested: “Let me ask my parents if you can live with us.” As Jones recalls, they approached Russ while he was building, of all things, bunk beds in the garage. The Skubals already had four boys in their house. But as a longtime coach and educator, Russ was open to the idea.
“I’m gonna be honest: I don’t really have all the real details because I really didn’t care,” Russ said. “I guess when you’re in education your whole life and your whole job is about coaching kids and taking care of kids and helping kids be the best, it’s easy.”
Russ talked to his wife, Laura. Laura talked to Jones’ older sister to get a better read on the situation.
As a family, with a house already overflowing with boys, they took in another.
“It wasn’t a thing,” Laura said. “Oh, OK, Wil needs help? We’re gonna figure it out.”
“And after three,” she joked, “does it really matter?”
Perhaps you have heard some of the Tarik Skubal origin story. Crammed house, sports-crazed, rambunctious and rowdy.
“Like living in a clubhouse all year,” Skubal said.
That tale often leaves out a large part of how that household got so rollicking. Jones was about three years older than Skubal, but they bonded quickly. “I didn’t know any better,” Skubal said. “I’m 13 years old and was like, ‘Yeah, I’d love to have another guy live with me.’”
That’s where the experience started, just two teenagers in the first stages of charting their paths. Now one is the presumptive AL Cy Young winner, the other is a police SWAT team sergeant, and both look back at their experiences together as part of what made them who they are today. All these years later, in the days before starting Game 1 of the AL Wild Card Series, Skubal stood at his locker and shared some of the old stories, rehashed the antics and also spoke from a new perspective.
Skubal and the National League’s Chris Sale just became the first pitchers to win full-season pitching Triple Crowns since 2011, dominance to the highest degree. There is a long list of people who helped shape his journey to the top of his sport, and Jones is key among them. Jones served as a friend, a co-conspirator in teenage shenanigans, a motivator in a formative time, and now, a brother in every way but blood.
Massive as the change to Skubal’s world might have seemed when Jones moved in, any real-life adjustment period was minimal. “Honestly,” Skubal said, “I think that’s a credit to who he is as a person.” The only drawback? Russ and Laura gave Skubal’s bed to Jones because he was older. Five boys shared jack-and-jill bedrooms with a bathroom in the middle. Tarik and Wil were together in one of those rooms. They quickly learned they had something in common: A mischievous streak and a willingness to bend the rules.
“When he was younger, he was a little bit of a rebel, and I was obviously a rebel,” Jones said. “So us together, it was trouble.”
They way they tell it, it was all innocent stuff, like staying up late and playing video games in the living room. When Russ woke in the middle of the night to the hollers, the kids found places to hide. Trent, the oldest brother who was still living at home, kept a box full of chips under his bed. Jones and Skubal tore into the bags. Trent put a lock on the box, and then they broke the lock. There are stories about BB guns. When Russ sold the house years later, he found holes in the wall he didn’t know were there, hidden behind furniture.
From Left: Trent, Trey, Tarik, Tyler and Wil. (Courtesy of Wil Jones)
Nothing got the kids going like basketball. Skubal was a freshman in high school at the time, and he’d practice with the varsity team, which included Tyler and Jones. Skubal was about 5 foot 7, a little chubby and slow. But he could shoot the lights out. Had a feel for the game and a stubborn streak that foreshadowed the force he would become.
“Tarik was the young kid that was always good at everything,” Jones said. “Me and Tyler were always looking to give him a piece of his own medicine on the court. He normally proved us wrong.”
At home, they played bitter pickup games. Especially as Tarik grew, Jones was outsized but not outmatched. Only 5 foot 7 to this day, Jones could jump out of the gym. “My kind of a guy,” said Russ, who coached their travel team. “Loved playing defense. Quick, maximized his ability.”
A consummate coach, Russ can’t help but add: “Wish he could have been a better shooter. It would have made him so much more dangerous.”
They talked trash, and Tarik was usually the one chirping the most. His bursts of emotion after a big strikeout, the fist pumps and the roars, took root in these games back in Kingman.
Consider Wil Jones in those moments. Seamless as his adjustment to Skubal family was, he never wanted to be like a burden.
“That was an internal conflict,” he said. “Me not wanting to put any stress on anyone else, and I don’t want to come in and change the dynamic of their family.”
When the Skubals first took Jones in, Laura met with all his teachers. She told them what was going on, wanted to make sure he was on a good path. The Skubals bought Wil clothes and new basketball shoes. Laura and Russ called him their son. The boys all called him their brother.
“That’s why I’m grateful,” Jones said. “They really embraced me.”
It was a good situation, but Jones sometimes felt guilt for leaving his aunt and uncle, especially as they developed health issues that turned serious. Jones says he started visiting them more after he graduated high school. Both died not long after, and sometimes he worried he had wronged them.
“The hardest was internally,” Jones said, “always feeling like you’re doing something wrong even though you’re in a better place.”
Despite the difficulty and the instability of his early years, Jones was never really on a bad course. His aunt and uncle wouldn’t have tolerated it, he says. Despite his circumstances, Laura says Jones, “made good choices even on his own.” Russ says he’s glad the family could share “a little piece in helping a young man find his footing.” But they’re not here to take credit. Jones did so much through his own determination. He wanted to prove people wrong. Moreso, he always wanted to prove things to himself.
“Sports, school, jobs, supporting the family, whatever it is, I’ve just always had that chip,” Jones said. “Like, whatever it is, I’m gonna be the best at what I can do.”
Sound familiar?
Believe it or not, the best pitcher in the American League wasn’t always a hyper-focused striver. There were days, Jones said, where Tarik Skubal had to be dragged to go work out or go pitch.
“I was always the middle man, the reasoning one,” Jones said. ‘“Come on Tarik, you got to go work out. You got to go listen to Tyler or your mom and your dad. They are being tough. But take it from me, they’re trying to make you better.’”
In those days Skubal was a prankster, a talented athlete who also still needed to find his drive.
“We were the kids who didn’t work too hard, but always had fun,” Jones said. “Tyler, super responsible. Older brother Trent, responsible. Trey (the youngest), responsible. Me and Tarik, we were not the responsible ones.”
The story is well-told by this point. Kingman is a small desert town, the kind where most of the people who grow up there stay there. Skubal had grown big and tall, even more of a force in the brothers’ pickup games. “He was like a bully on the basketball court, similar to how he pitches,” Jones said.
The extended Skubal clan at one of Tarik’s games (Courtesy of Wil Jones)
Gifted as Skubal was, he was an unheralded recruit. Seattle University was his lone Division I offer. At Seattle, Skubal blossomed into a talented arm. Then, his sophomore season, his elbow twinged with pain. He tore his UCL and needed Tommy John surgery. He spent a summer back in Arizona, driving his now-wife’s Dodge Dart and staying in hotels so he could go through proper rehab in Phoenix.
“It was crazy to watch,” Jones said, “because he endured a lot to get to where he is. He truly did.”
Somewhere in there, all his father’s coach-speak lessons clicked. His competitive streak meshed with a newer, focused drive. He was still unheralded, still an underdog despite how he was perceived back home. “Always the kid everyone was chasing,” Jones said.
When Skubal’s pro career began, he was drafted to a bad team in the ninth round.
“Did I know he was going to go pro in any sport?” Jones said. “No. But I knew he had a shot at whatever he desired.”
Jones often talked with Laura about his future. He had a natural interest in law enforcement. It was driven in part, he says, by his mother’s struggle with drugs.
When the boys graduated, Tyler went off to play basketball for a year at Dubuque in Iowa. Jones stayed with the Skubals, got a fast-food job, enrolled at a local community college. He later worked at the local jail to see if he could really handle the line of work. He ended up loving it. He met his future wife, who was working in the mental health realm. When the Mohave County Sheriff’s Department was willing to hire him almost on the spot, he could not say no.
Wil Jones and Laura Skubal (Courtesy of Laura Skubal)
His promotions came quickly. He started as a patrol officer. He ended up working narcotics investigations, made a big stop and ended up with a spot on the drug task force. These days, at age 31, he is a SWAT team sergeant. He still deals with narcotics investigations. He is a DEA and HSI task-force officer, which means he has federal credentials. Skubal still gawks. “I miss him,” he said, “but he needs to stay safe. He needs to figure out how to be a supervisor or something.”
Jones says he lived with the Skubals until he was about 22. Russ and Laura eventually separated. Jones still keeps in close contact with both. Tarik and his brothers call Jones’ children their nephews. Laura attends baseball and football games for Jones’ oldest son, Amari. She’s loved watching him coach and mentor, getting on a knee, looking a kid in the eye and offering encouragement.
Just last week, there was an issue at the school where Russ works as a principal. He had to call the authorities. Up rolled Wil Jones in a patrol car, dressed in full uniform. Russ felt pride. The situation ended up being minor.
Russ hugged Jones and told a few students: This is my son.
In a year full of dominant performances, sometimes Jones and others close to Tarik Skubal thought back to the hard days. His debut season in 2020 was an adjustment. He showed glimpses of supreme talent in 2021. But through his first 181 ⅓ major-league innings, he surrendered 44 home runs. His ERA was 4.57. That sight of Skubal leaving a pitch over the plate, turning and whipping his head as the ball left the yard, is still seared in his family’s memory.
“It was hard,” Jones said. “We just know him as Tarik. We want him to do the best. … But we’re also happy he got it out of the way, because we knew the good stuff was coming.”
Just as he was beginning to pitch the best baseball of his career in 2022, Skubal left a game in Minnesota and was later diagnosed with a torn flexor tendon. He underwent an exploratory surgery, one that could have resulted in a second Tommy John. Instead Dr. Neal ElAttrache found Skubal’s UCL to be in pristine condition. The flexor-tendon repair still meant more months of grueling rehab, a process that led to refinement and helped Skubal grow into the strike-throwing machine he has become.
Since Skubal returned from the injured list last summer, he has been the best pitcher in baseball. This season, he is the extreme favorite to win the American League’s Cy Young Award. He will be the first pitcher since Justin Verlander and Clayton Kershaw to win a pitching Triple Crown in a full season, leading the American League in wins (18), ERA (2.39) and strikeouts (228).
On Opening Day, Jones and Tyler took a red-eye flight to see Skubal pitch in Chicago. Jones has seen Skubal pitch multiple times in games out on the West Coast. He decks his children out in Tigers gear, courtesy of Skubal.
“He’s still not where he wants to be,” Jones said. “I guarantee you if you ask him, he’d say, ‘I got a long way to go.’”
In the midst of a Cy Young season, Skubal has often made a point to distribute credit. He’s often praised Jake Rogers, his personal catcher. On the night the Tigers clinched a playoff appearance, something they could not have done without their 21-10 record on days Skubal pitches, he again credited the team’s trainers and strength coaches. Skubal is the Tigers’ nominee for the Roberto Clemente Award thanks to his work with Alternatives for Girls, a Detroit nonprofit that helps domestic violence survivors and at-risk young women. He chose the foundation, he said, after conferring with his wife, Jess, who was raised by a single mother.
The day before the Tigers clinched and soaked themselves in champagne, Skubal talked about someone else. Here at the apex of his profession, filled with the stress and pressure and expectations, he has a good source of perspective. On a few occasions, Skubal has asked Jones about his line of work. “He told me one story,” Skubal said. “I said, ‘Don’t tell me ever again. I don’t want to know.”
He’s here playing a game. Every day, he has a brother risking his life.
“The real stuff,” Skubal said. “Those people make sacrifices to where this is our job. This is my job. I get to play baseball.”
As Skubal prepares to pitch Game 1 of a playoff series, a goal he laid out back in spring training, he is in the spotlight more than ever.
One of his biggest heroes, though, is a brother back in Arizona.
“Great dad, great role model,” Skubal said. “Role model for a lot of people. Not just me.”
(Top photo: Duane Burleson / Getty Images)
