Max Scherzer has three Cy Young awards, a Hall of Fame résumé, an all-time nickname and his team, the Washington Nationals, on the brink of their first World Series appearance. Yet before he became Mad Max, one of the most intimidating pitchers of his generation, he was a kid from St. Louis who headed off to play college baseball at the University of Missouri in 2003.

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In fact, according to teammates and coaches, he even had a totally different nickname: Juice.

The stories from his years on campus include wild burrito bets, notoriously frugal spending, life-long friendships, epic duels in Nebraska, a lot of Cicis pizza, and the kind of intense competitive fire that would become his trademark. These are the tales of Mad Max before he became Mad Max.

Tony Vitello, assistant coach, 2003-10: It’s almost become a cartoon character of how competitive and intense he was.

Dan Pietroburgo, catcher: I’ve never met anybody else like him.

Hunter Mense, outfielder: My dad and I would always go to the (Missouri high school basketball) Final Four in Columbia, and I remember his school was playing against Poplar Bluff and Tyler Hansbrough. He ended up guarding Hansbrough the entire time. I remember thinking: He’s not an extremely skilled basketball player, but he’s like a grinder basketball player who’s going to get down and dirty and play defense against guys. I was thinking like, he must be a competitor.

Nathan Culp, pitcher: He always talked about pitching on Friday night like playing Friday night football in high school.

Pietroburgo: The whole snarling thing, he would do that in fall ball games, even if there was nothing on the line.

Mense: There was an at-bat we had against each other. It was fall intersquads of our junior year. Back then, the catchers called balls and strikes. I had like a 13- or 14-pitch at-bat against him, and I was fouling a bunch of pitches off, and we got to a 3-2 count. It was a borderline pitch that was down. I thought it was down. I started to run to first. The catcher rings me up. He started yelling at me from the mound. Shouted some expletives at me. I shouted some expletives back at him. And it was like, game on.

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J.C. Field, catcher: He was so competitive in bullpens. If he missed a spot, he would absolutely freak out.

Culp: We worked out a lot together, because he’d throw on Friday and I’d throw Saturday. So on Sundays, we’d both go to the weight room and work out. He was like that in the weight room, too. If we were bench-pressing, I can remember him shouting out, “100!” because that was his goal. He wanted to hit 100 mph before he left Mizzou.

Mense: He’s intense and he gets worked up. But at that point, we would just kind of giggle at him, because he was so out there, and he was such a good-hearted, fun-loving dude.

Culp: One game he got to 99 mph. It might have been the Big 12 tournament our junior year. He told us: “OK, this is it. I’m going to hit 100 today.” He said, “I’ll let you know. I’ll give you a sign when I’m going to do it.” He looked over in the dugout, stepped off the mound, and took his hat off and smirked. He threw the pitch. It was 99. So we all ragged him about it.

Mense: We were trying out for Team USA. And I was one of those guys that actually had to try out to make the team. We were roommates, and I came back and they had just told me I had made the team. I came back to the room and we just went nuts. He was so excited for me. He was so happy. So then he comes back after his meeting and he’s like (very nonchalant voice): “Yeah, I made it.” I remember thinking, OK, he’s starting to realize that he is really good. And once he realizes that, he’s going to be pretty dangerous.

This is the story of a frustrating — and motivating — freshman season in Columbia, Mo.:

Tim Jamieson, head coach, 1995-2016: His freshman year, he didn’t throw strikes. Like a lot of college pitchers figure out, they don’t get as many swings and misses in college as they got in high school, so they have to work inside the strike zone. Max didn’t throw a lot of strikes. Part of it was his delivery. But the biggest part of it was his approach.

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Mense: He didn’t have much command, and he was kind of all over the place.

Vitello: We’re playing Texas and we beat them on Friday and Saturday and on Sunday, they crush us. We’re down big, and Max didn’t pitch. Well, I’m coming around the corner, and Max is standing there bowed up. He was never, ever disrespectful to me, even in this situation. But basically, he was ready to fight. He wanted to know why he didn’t pitch in the game. He’s so smart — he was right. He was like, “That was the perfect chance for me to get some experience.” And I’m like, “You’re not pitching because you have seven walks per nine innings.”

Danny Hill, pitcher: The biggest thing I remember with that is Max was just like, “Well, I’m just going to make myself better.” The guy just started working harder than he’s ever worked.

Mense: He just took it like a challenge: OK, it’s me against you guys and I’m going to figure out how to get this done. Every day, he went out there and his long-toss program was a game. Every day he squatted and it was a game for him. I remember him saying, “I didn’t go on the mound and I didn’t throw for the last three or four weeks of the season. I just used it as fuel.”

Vitello: If you know Max, he believes in himself more than you could ever imagine. He still holds a grudge that he didn’t pitch enough.

Pietroburgo: It was really that summer after our freshman year. All these reports out of the Northwoods League were like: Who’s this Scherzer guy out of Missouri? And then he got back that fall and you could just tell he was a different guy. He was a man on a mission.

This is the story of Cicis pizza and an ultra-frugal college student:

Mense: I’ll never forget this: His favorite place to go when we were back in college was Cicis Pizza. Because, one, he loved to eat, and two, it was like a $5 buffet. He always used to say: “I don’t know why you guys would want to go anywhere else. What else would you want? You get all-you-can-eat and it’s only $5.”

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Field: He loved him some Cicis pizza.

Aaron Crow, pitcher: He would go to Cicis in between and just crush it.

Pietroburgo: We were broke. All of us. He and I lived together for two years. Just going around, getting groceries, he was pinching pennies, looking for the cheapest $5 pizzas to throw as many in the fridge as possible. He was looking to save a buck however he could.

Hill: We’d go to the casino and there’d be college guys in there losing 30 bucks. And he’d just signed for $1.4 million or whatever, and he would be mad about losing $50. “Gah, dangit, I can’t believe it! We’re coming back tomorrow!” Or it would be: “I’m done gambling!” It was one or the other.

Taylor Parker, pitcher: He’d be more than happy to go to one of his favorite bars his junior year and buy you two or three drinks if it’s part of a team get-together or a big event. But I can remember having him buy drinks all night and then the next day you’re going to the facility and he’s reminding me that I owe him $5 for Taco Bell.

Culp: When we were talking about the first-round draft picks, and how much the signing bonuses were, I think he drove a Toyota Camry. It was like a mid-’90s Toyota Camry. The first comment he made was like: “I don’t think I’m going to get a new car. I think I’ll just soup up the Camry a little bit.”

Mense: I remember another time we were walking by machines that had gumballs or something. I was like, “Hey, you got a quarter I could borrow?” He gives me a quarter. And I swear like a couple days later, he asked for the quarter back.

This is the story of “Juice”:

Culp: We called him “Juice” in college. Because he’d always talk about how he was going to throw the “juice.” He’d just get himself amped up and get locked in.

Hill: Oh, yeah. We still call him Juice.

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Field: That’s what I call him to this day. I look at him and go, “Juuuuuice!” 

Mense:  This was when he started to throw really hard. He took a lot of pride in throwing hard. So he would throw it and he would say, “Juice!”

Culp: It was max effort, everything he did.

Field: Every single time with his last pitch in the bullpen, he signaled fastball and yelled, “Juice!” That’s when I’d see the entire 31 and then the absolute gas. That’s how he mentally prepared.

Vitello: Our signs were very simple, but we had fastball-extra. So whenever we’d call that in a bullpen, he’d yell out, “Juice!” to the catcher. Then he’d let it rip.

Parker: He would argue with us. “Oh no, this is a different pitch.”

Pietroburgo: It’s just funny stuff like that. Juice. Where do you even come up with that?

Vitello: It also just shows you his belief. There are plenty of guys that age that are throwing 95, but his 95 deserves a name. And he’s going to announce his presence when it’s coming.

This is the story of the Nebraska duel against Joba Chamberlain:

Field: The best game, still to this day, that I’ve been involved in was the University of Nebraska game his sophomore year.

Culp: I was in the stands charting (pitches). This was a Friday night game and he was pitching against Joba Chamberlain.

Pietroburgo: Nebraska was kind of like the powerhouse. Alex Gordon was on that team. They had a couple other studs. And they pack that place.

Vitello: I remember the day better than anybody because I got thrown out.

Pietroburgo: He was just mowing guys down. The best comp I could give to that would be like the Chris Carpenter-Roy Halladay game in Game 5 (of the 2011 NLDS). We scored an early run or two and then it was just those two trading punches.

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Jamieson: After the seventh inning, we were winning 2-1. Max comes into the dugout after he pitched and said, “Hey Coach, I’m done.” I said, “Max, they’ve got the middle of the lineup coming up. One more inning, OK? Three more outs?” He said OK and went back out there. He goes strikeout, popup and jam-job in eight or nine pitches. He storms off the mound and is basically screaming, “I’m going to finish this game!” I said, “OK, if that’s what you want to do.”

Mense: I remember Coach Jamieson telling the story numerous times.

Jamieson: We’re in the ninth inning. He gets the first two guys out pretty easily. And they pinch-hit a guy that’s got some power, but he’s got what we call “slider bat speed.” Max’s slider was not what it is now. One out of every three was a good one. The other two were very hittable. I made a trip to the mound, and he met me — like you see now where he talks to his managers when he doesn’t want to come out of the game? Well, picture that.

Pietroburgo: Max met him halfway and was like, “You’re not taking me out.” Probably a few expletives. That was one of those moments where that persona came out.

Field: You could see him on the mound and on the rubber literally bouncing up and down because he was so pumped up.

Jamieson: All the infielders were laughing. They had their faces in their gloves. I said, “Hey Max…” He said, “I’m not coming out of this game!” I said, “No, this guy is a slider-bat-speed guy. Just stay firm.” I left the mound. 97 mph, 97 mph, 97 mph. The game was over.

Vitello: I had to watch from left field, peering over some Nebraska fans. I just remember running back down on the field, running across in front of Nebraska’s dugout and running straight over to some guys and Max was one of the first ones. We had a pretty big hug there. He was fired up.

This is the story about hitting, Team USA, a bet and tape:

Culp: We were both pretty good hitters in high school, so we always argued about who should get a chance to get out there and hit.

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Mense: He always used to tell us — this was his thing — he could really hit in high school. They should let him hit in college.

Culp: I do remember one time he made a bet with somebody that he could hit a home run. I don’t remember the specifics, but I do remember them throwing one pitch, and he hit it into the bullpen and flipped the bat and walked off the field.

Parker: We would pin a $10 bill to the bulletin board in college and challenge anyone that I could throw him two pitches and he would hit one of them over the fence. We only got challenged twice because one time he hit one into the bullpen and the other time he hit one over the scoreboard.

Crow: He hit a homer and would not stop talking about it.

Mense: We were playing for Team USA. (Then Baylor coach) Steve Smith was the head coach of the team. Max isn’t afraid to use an F-word here and there. And he told him: If you don’t cuss for an entire game, you can hit. But Max had to tape his mouth shut so he wouldn’t do it. He had tape on his mouth for most of the game. And it was really only to be able to hit BP. He did it, and he hit a couple balls out.

Culp: It’s just everything he does is competitive and he wants to win. If he doesn’t win, he’s mad.

Jamieson: Every time he would pass some milestone, I’d send him a text. He’d send me back a text related to what he did at the plate. He’s pitching against the Mets, and he’s with the Tigers. He’s pitching in a National League city, so Max gets to hit. After the seventh inning, it was pretty obvious the Tigers were going to win. It was a milestone win or strikeout he accomplished. I sent him a text congratulating him. Within five minutes of the text, I get a text back from him. He had attached a video of a double he had hit in the game with the comment, “raking in the show.”

This is the story of a “nerd” superstar:

Mense: He was really smart with numbers, but that was before the data-driven stuff started to make its way into baseball. So he was really good with his accounting classes and everything like that.

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Culp: I remember we had an email conversation before text messages were big. We would email about some new statistics that were big at the time, and I think the one thread I still have is about batting average on balls in play and how interested he was in that.

Pietroburgo: Our pitching philosophy at Missouri at that time was very simple — attack in three pitches. First-pitch strikes. Walks per nine. Just very simple metrics. But he would compete with those. He wanted to know where he ranked.

Hill: That’s what defines him is his ability to learn new pitches and keep creating and reinventing himself.

Vitello:  He always sat there and watched the game and tried to figure stuff out. Like: “I want to climb Mt. Everest. How do I climb to the top?”

Hill: It was at the casino, playing poker, playing hearts on the bus. He’d talk about strategies and learning how to get ahead. Those numbers have always applied. He’s quick to do math in his head, coming up with odds. Craps is a difficult numbers game, and he figured that out pretty young. It’s stuff we do now when we get together — play cards or go to the casino.

Parker: He and I were calculating permutations and combinations of certain three-card poker bets on bus trips while everyone else is in the back sleeping. The guy just thinks differently.

Vitello: One thing that sucks about Max is he throws so hard, I don’t think the average fan can appreciate what has made Max great. He’s done a lot to make himself what he is. It’s not just arm strength.

Hill: To this day, he’ll send out a message to us: If he has an outing that doesn’t go as planned, sometimes he’ll be like, “I can’t believe I executed first-pitch strikes this high and I was ahead within three pitches this percentage of the time. The odds say that won’t happen again this year.”

This is the Chipotle story:

Vitello: It feels like the last few times I’ve talked about Max, I always tell the Chipotle story.

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Field: It kind of lives in Mizzou lore a little bit. That’s kind of what he’s known for. Three burritos that he crushed.

Hill: That’s a true story. Three fully-loaded Chipotle burritos in 30 or 40 minutes. That was pretty incredible.

Pietroburgo: I don’t remember exactly how the bet went down, but all I know is there was some money on the line and he ended up eating three (burritos) in one sitting. I challenge anybody to match that.

Culp: That was he and I. We were going through the line, and I think I was taking the wrapper off my burrito and he was taking the last bite. He goes, “Man, I gotta get another one.” So he goes up there and bought a second burrito. So I’m about halfway through my burrito, and he finished the second one. He goes, “I think I could eat a third one, but I’m not spending six bucks on another burrito.”

I was like, “Well, I’ll buy your burrito if you can eat the third one.” So I paid for the last burrito, because he finished it. There’s a photo floating around somewhere, Max is sitting there with three Chipotle baskets.

Vitello: Obviously, he can eat a lot. But it’s the competitiveness. Don’t tell me I can’t do something, because I can. Obviously, he paid the piper for eating three Chipotle burritos.

Culp: That guy could put down food more than anyone I’ve ever seen.

Hill: We were at a nice restaurant (on Saturday in St. Louis), and he ordered steak and he ordered some seafood towers, with all the shellfish. And he will not let food leave the table. He just keeps eating and eating. It’s just like the Chipotle thing. But he’s always skinny.

This is the story of “Scherzer Island”:

Vitello: That pitching staff, they’re still on a group text together. And a posse of them are almost like “Entourage.” Max takes care of all those guys and they’re still really close. One of the reasons is they were just a group of guys that were all in, no matter what they’re doing. He kind of had that natural personality.

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Pietroburgo: As excited as we all get to get together, like, he’s a lot more excited than anybody. If he sees one of us, he’s got that over-the-top, gregarious laugh, he just can’t control himself.

Culp: He’s still that same guy.

Vitello: He rented out his own island off the Bahamas last year, and those guys had a great time. I only made it for a day and a half, but I’m like, “OK, if this guy has Scherzer Island, I’m not going to miss it entirely.”

Hill: I think we just all worked so hard and had very common goals and saw how hard one another worked — how hard we played and how hard we loved each other.

Pietroburgo: Now he’s kind of in the position where he can be the ringleader; he enjoys that more than anything.

Hill: It’s just so easy to be young again when we get back together. You probably have it with your college buddies. You get back together and you’re 20 again. It’s like a family reunion.

Vitello: If you’re just in an Uber and going to get something to eat, and the driver had to pick who was the big leaguer, he’d have no chance picking out Max. Probably because he’d think that guy is just part of the entourage — he’s the silly, fun guy.

— The Athletic’s Alec Lewis contributed reporting to this story. 

(Top photo of Scherzer: Scott Kane / Getty Images)

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