On the night of Aug. 19 in Cleveland, Roberto Osuna left the mound looking stunned.

He had just experienced the worst few minutes of his otherwise extraordinary season. Two consecutive batters had ambushed off-speed pitches for home runs, both on two-strike counts, sending the Blue Jays to a 3-2 walk-off defeat.

When Osuna and his teammates returned to Toronto the next night, his father was waiting. His dad has always been there, offering instruction and advice, starting when his firstborn picked up a baseball as a toddler back home in Mexico. It is no different now that his son, at age 21, is one of the most accomplished closers in the majors.

Osuna's dad, also named Roberto, was a good pitcher for more than two decades in Mexico. When his son is pitching well, he leaves him alone. When trouble strikes, as it did in Cleveland, the father becomes coach again. Describing those conversations, he uses "we" a lot, as though he had been on the mound with his son.

"What we normally do is, when he comes back from the road trip, we get together at dinner or lunch, sometimes at night, and we talk," Roberto Sr. explains through team translator Josue Peley. "We always talk about what pitch we used or we didn't use. In Cleveland, he wasn't being aggressive when the count was 0-2. He was leaving his pitches a little bit high in the zone. He wasn't aggressive enough. So the only thing we talked about when that happened was to be more aggressive and challenge the hitters."

With an 0-2 count, the father said, we stay off the plate. Go with a fastball away or maybe an off-speed pitch in the dirt.

"We have to go with something that is not going to get hit," the father says.

On the first homer, by Jose Ramirez, Osuna threw a hanging changeup on the inner half of the plate on 0-2. He had a 1-2 count on the next batter, Tyler Naquin, who hit a fat slider off the top of the right-field wall for an inside-the-park homer. Both Ramirez and Naquin were batting left-handed.

"We were talking about that I should've made a different pitch to the lefty and go with a fastball away," Osuna says on the day after talking to his dad. "I try to learn as much as I can. Every day I try to learn something new and that's what I learned last night."

He acknowledges the validity of alternate strategies. He had reached 0-2 on both batters with mid-90s fastballs. Maybe they figured they'd get another heater. Maybe he'd be better off to cross them up, show them something different.

But of all his coaches, the one he knows and loves best is the one whose advice matters most.

"That's my dad," he says, "and I believe that he would be the only one that he would want the best for me. He's the only one I trust. I love my coaches, but I've got so much respect for my dad. I know what he did in his career. He's my hero, so I've got to follow him."

At age 12, Osuna followed his dad into the fields of Mexico to pick vegetables. He had quit school (which he didn't like much anyway) to help the family make ends meet. Roberto Sr. had undergone career-ending arm surgery and the Osunas were poor, sleeping six to a room in a ramshackle house.

But even at 12, Osuna was a promising pitcher. When he was invited to pitch at that tender age in Japan, then Italy, and a little money started to flow back home, his parents began to dream of the improbable: perhaps their son's powerful right arm could change their lives and those of his twin brothers and sister.

"He made us work harder," his father says, "because we saw the opportunity."

At 16, young Roberto turned pro, pitching in his father's old league. Shortly thereafter, the Blue Jays signed him for $1.5 million. Overnight, life changed for the Osunas, starting with the new house Roberto bought for them.

Two years later, the dream took a detour. He was a prospect on a rapid rise when he felt a pop in his elbow. At 18, he underwent reconstructive elbow surgery.

"It was hard at the beginning after he signed because he had the Tommy John surgery," his father says. "He was young, so he got really down because he thought he was going to be a no one in life. He didn't believe in himself.

"So myself and my wife, we got together to help him. We were there when he got the surgery. We always taught him how to work hard, and it stuck with him. So now, he's doing it by himself, and I'm here every time he needs me to give that push."

The Tommy John surgery was a turning point, both for Osuna's baseball career and in the way he viewed the world. It was a classic morality tale: when you're down, you discover who your friends are.

"I was one of the top prospects before my Tommy John and everybody was there," Roberto says. "I had a lot of friends and a lot of family, a lot of cousins, uncles, everything. So when my Tommy John happens, everybody just left me, like nobody trusted me, nobody believed in me. A couple persons told me that my career was done. My parents and my brothers were the only ones that stayed there with me."

Today, Osuna is one of the most popular Blue Jays and the most successful 21-year-old closer in history, the first to record 30 saves in a season at his age. When he comes through the bullpen door, hops four times on his right leg and breaks into a trot toward the mound, the crowd at the Rogers Centre greets him with a roar. He says a small prayer and crosses himself before his first pitch, and raises his right arm and points to the sky when he locks down another save. (The family mantra is "God first," his father says.)

After recording 20 saves last year, Osuna has 30 more and a 2.40 ERA this season. Among American League closers with 30 or more saves, his 0.88 WHIP is second only to that of Baltimore's Zach Britton (0.80).

Around the clubhouse, no one can quite believe he is only 21.

"He's mature for his age," says fellow reliever Joaquin Benoit, 39. "His work ethic is great. He's going to do great things."

Echoes Jason Grilli, also 39: "He's got some maturity. You can look at this young prospect that's got this boatload of talent, but he comes from a baseball family, too, and his maturity level speaks volumes about why he's going to be even better down the road."

More than anyone in the clubhouse, Grilli understands the importance of Osuna's dad in his development. Grilli's father, Steve, is a former big-league pitcher who settled in Syracuse after the Blue Jays sent him there near the end of his career. Steve owns a bar in Syracuse and broadcasts Syracuse Chiefs' games.

"Roberto comes from a baseball family, like myself, and I know that's always a comfort and a help," Grilli says. "You have another resource of people who understand, who've been there, done that. I still talk shop with my dad to this day. Occasionally, we'll talk about pitch selection, but it's more about how to attack certain guys. He played the game, he's broadcasted the game, he's scouted the game. Especially being his son, he's into everything I'm doing and he's there for advice if I want it and need it."

Grilli, whose improbable success as Osuna's setup man has been a godsend for the Jays, was there for the young closer after the meltdown in Cleveland. Osuna acknowledges the maturity he has gained from his rookie season, but also says he appreciates the opportunity to learn from his elders—and to benefit from a pep talk after an outing like he had in Cleveland.

Grilli: "I just said, 'Hey man, I'm just making sure you're OK, making sure you're good. I'm not going to tell you what pitch you should have thrown or anything like that. You're out there. You're driving the car. You drive it the way you want to.'

"No one wants to go out there and lose a game for the team," Grilli adds. "The tricky part about relieving is that we could go out there and do our job 50 times; we blow one game and it's big news. I just wanted to make sure he was going to have a rebound outing. And he did."

The next day, Osuna pitched a perfect ninth to secure a 6-5 win. Ramirez and Naquin were the first and last batters he retired.

"I think he's got everything figured out," Benoit says. "He's a human being. He's going to make mistakes. If he needs any help, he knows we're here for him."

Meanwhile, the Osuna family is spending most of the season in Toronto. They recently returned to Mexico for business reasons, but are scheduled to return in time for the Blue Jays' crucial series with Boston this weekend.

"They might stay here for the rest of the season," Osuna says. "They don't want to go back home. They love the city. They love watching us play."

Each day when the family is in town, Osuna's father becomes coach again, this time to Roberto's 13-year-old twin brothers. Instead of the sandlots of Mexico, they work in a major-league stadium, early in the afternoon before the big leaguers arrive.

Alejandro (Alex) is a lefty pitcher who has hit a few batting-practice homers at the Rogers Centre. Pedro, who is right-handed, is a promising hitter, his dad says.

"It just reminds me of Roberto," the father says. "Same thing—Roberto was a great hitter. He was in the four-hole for Sinaloa and also for the Mexican junior team. The same thing is happening with my twins. One of them is a lefty. He's throwing 81. But he's really good at hitting, so I do a little bit of everything with him. He's an outfielder. I hit him fly balls. I make sure he gets his work in as a pitcher.

"The right-hander is at third base. He also can hit for power. He has a little injury to his right elbow so we're taking it easy with him. But he just reminds me of Roberto when he was younger."

The elder Roberto often shows up for games wearing a Mexico jersey and after a win he sometimes drapes himself in the Mexican flag as he waits outside the clubhouse for his oldest son.

"He tells me how proud he feels about me," Osuna says. "But everything I have, because I'm here, is because of him."

And after her son pitches, Guadalupe Osuna always has a hard time holding it together. It is a measure of a mother's pride, but also a reflection of all the family has been through, how they've stuck together and an appreciation of the way a son's success has pulled them out of poverty.

"I can see in my mom's eye, like every time I see her after I pitch, she wants to cry," Osuna says. "That means a lot because we all have been doing everything together, especially when I had my Tommy John. Everybody left me—friends, family—and my mom and dad were the only ones that stayed there with me."