The flourish of his delivery, his leg kick and tremendous follow-through are unique, and a metaphor for who Yordano was as a person. His did everything maximum-effort, and he wore his emotions on his sleeve. Every fifth day, Royals fans excitedly marked the days he pitched with his catchphrase, “Let’s throw fire.”

When his close friend Oscar Tavares passed away in October 2014, Yordano was visibly shaken, and pitched Game 6 of the World Series in tribute to his friend. He went seven scoreless innings, giving up only three hits. He threw fire. His performance elicited enormous praise from Pedro Martinez, a Hall of Famer, and Yordano’s childhood hero.

Yordano’s hat for Game 6 of the 2014 World Series was inscribed to honor his friend and countryman Oscar Tavares. It rests in the Baseball Hall of Fame. (KCTV)

On Sunday, Pedro took to Twitter to express his heartbreak. Roughly translated, it reads “Another one of mine, another one of our own, another one of baseball’s. So little to say, so much pain to process. Rest in peace, son, you have broken our hearts.”

Yordano was part of the Royals’ core of talented Latin American players. His growth, along with Alcides Escobar, Salvador Perez and Kelvin Herrera, paralleled the ascendance of the franchise. He was signed for another five years. Danny Duffy coined the phrase “Bury me a Royal” when seeking his recent contract extension. It was not supposed to be literal.

Ventura had been with the organization since 2008, when he signed for $28,000 as a scrawny 16-year old throwing in the low 80s. In the Royals’ system, he put on weight and the fastball kept getting faster, hitting 100 by the time he was 20. While the fastball was massive, his real development came with the evolution of his curveball. Raul Ibanez, a veteran of 16 years in the MLB, said of Ventura’s curve, “When he threw that curveball for strikes, it was going to be a quick day. He just had fantastic stuff.”

Off the field, Yordano was a big part of the playful vibe that seemed to permeate the Royals’ clubhouse. “If he wasn’t pitching that day, he would always come around me just to talk and joke and play around. After a while, I’d have say, ‘Ace, get out of here, dude. Just go somewhere else.’ He was like a little brother who would come and poke you and want to play with you. You couldn’t help but smile when you were around him.” This team genuinely enjoyed being around each other, and you could feel the love and respect they had for each other as players. They were more than teammates, they were brothers. And now they mourn together.

Danny Duffy and Christian Colon were seen at Kauffman Stadium yesterday, grieving with the fans who had set up a makeshift memorial by Gate C.

It is a sad time for the Royals. We saw him pitch with fire and energy, and an attitude that drew national criticism. His scuffles with Manny Machado, Mike Trout and Brett Lawrie are well-chronicled. That attitude, that fearlessness, and his confidence were all essential to who he was, and we as fans loved to see him harness those emotions as fuel for how he pitched. I grieve for his family and those close to him, and as a fan, I selfishly lament that I will never get to see him mature and fulfill that potential we all saw in the scrawny, fire-throwing right-hander who backed down for no one. Rest in Peace, Yordano. You threw fire.