SEATTLE — Max Scherzer had not pitched in 22 days, had been left off the Division Series roster of the Blue Jays, had stumbled to the finish of the regular season with a 9.00 ERA in his final six starts and had enough physical maladies over the past two seasons—back, shoulder, triceps, hamstring, thumb, lat, neck, etc.—to mimic a 41-year-old weekend pickleball player, not the 41-year-old three-time Cy Young Award winner that he is. His start in Game 4 of the ALCS had the trappings of a tour of a 1970s band: cutely nostalgic, but nothing more.

Then he started warming up in the T-Mobile Park visiting bullpen and something magical happened. The ball flew out his hand with ease and power. He spun the ball with precision. Toronto pitching coach Pete Walker could hardly believe what he was watching.

“I knew when he was warming up it was going to be good,” Walker said. “He wanted this one bad and you’d probably ask anybody in that clubhouse and they, they felt it, too. When he was warming up, I felt some of the hairs that are barely there on my arm standing up because I could tell he had it.”

What we do in the prime of our work is what most defines us. It is the first paragraph of our obituary. But sometimes it is what we do in the twilight of our careers, long after a reputation has been earned, that burnishes the oeuvre, if not creates a legend of its own. Late career greatness has the added emotion of bittersweetness, born from the uncertainty that it may well be the last of it.

Scherzer had one of those nights. He defied age, time, injury and, almost comically, his own manager. He threw harder than he had in two years. He had the best curveball of his life. He stomped around the mound like a young lion. He pitched two outs into the sixth inning to earn his ninth career postseason win, but first one in six years, as Toronto evened the series at two games each with a second straight pounding of the Mariners, 8–2.