Tough to take
Frustrated Cole stands out in a postgame clubhouse full of heartbroken Astros
A brusque Gerrit Cole stood out in a clubhouse full of dejection.
An awkward moment, thought to be humorous until Gerrit Cole looked dead serious, cut through the aching heart of the Astros’ clubhouse after Houston lost to the Washington Nationals 6-2 in Game 7 of the World Series on Wednesday night.
Less than an hour earlier, Cole’s gutsy, dominant and potentially Cy Young Award-winning season was unfinished. With his windbreaker zipped up, he sat in the bullpen, where he’d prepared since the fifth inning to make the first relief appearance of his career, warmed up twice, and continued to wait for a call that never came.
He knew the plan that manager A.J. Hinch had devised before the game.
“If we had the lead,” Cole said. The Astros did, for six innings. Then the lead and the season — and perhaps Cole’s future with the team — slipped away.
He had never pitched on short rest before, and Hinch, in perhaps the only stretch of a close game this postseason he had not managed with urgency, did not want to push Cole unless a victory was within reach. Cole was lined up to close out Game 7 a la Charlie Morton against the Dodgers in 2017.
Instead, Hinch went with Will Harris and Roberto Osuna. The duo had been solid for the majority of the season — particularly Harris — but Harris gave up a goahead two-run homer to Howie Kendrick in the seventh, and Osuna allowed another run in the eighth that put the Nationals ahead 4-2. The two-run lead proved to be a death sentence. A storm of second-guessing about Hinch’s going with five relievers and icing Cole would follow.
Cole watched the breakthrough runs from his seat more than 400 feet away. Although he’d never made a relief appearance before, he’d been in the bullpen for other critical playoff games. A familiar disappointment flooded back to him Wednesday night.
“The last three times I’ve been in the bullpen, we’ve lost every game, and our seasons ended twice, so it was not that much fun,” Cole said.
He dressed quickly after the game, hoping to jet out and put the upsetting loss behind him. He also wanted to avoid questions about his upcoming free agency. Eligible players can file for free agency one day after the World Series, but Cole began acting like his relationship with the Astros was over.
A cluster of media migrated toward Cole. He loudly cussed, unhappy about the looming obligation.
Astros players regularly head over to stand in front of a clubhouse wall painted with the team logo and designated for postgame interviews. Media relations director Gene Dias told Cole he could give interviews in front of his locker and that “you don’t have to” do them in front of the wall.
“I don’t have to do it?” Cole replied.
“No,” Dias said, “you don’t have to do it over there.”
“I don’t have to do it at all?” Cole reiterated, more forceful, with dozens of reporters looking at him.
At first, Cole’s persistence seemed comical. It was understandable that a player on the losing end of Game 7 would not be thrilled to take questions.
But Cole held his glare. He was not kidding.
“I mean, I'm not employed,” Cole said. “I’m not employed.”
“We would like for you to do it, but it’s your call,” Dias said.
Cole grudgingly obliged and said: “All right, as an affiliate of myself.”
He wore a cap with the insignia of his agent, Scott Boras, who is expected to demand a contract worth more than $200 million for Cole this winter. The Astros are not expected to offer that much.
Cole spoke about his two seasons with the Astros in the past tense, which was grammatically correct but set a melancholy tone.
“A lot of good friendships,” he said. “Learned a lot about pitching from my teammates, from my pitching coaches and staff, learned a lot more about the game from A.J., and it was just a pleasure to play in the city of Houston.”
He added that he has not thought much about his future in Houston.
Cole’s word choices aside, his agita seemed less rooted in some quietly simmering frustrations over his possible return or departure and tied more to the fresh pain of losing Game 7 — the end to an extraordinary season that came up a few innings short of a championship.
He said as much a day later, admitting Thursday to being “upset” about the loss and adding “my tone did not come off quite the way I wanted it to. … We had the lead with eight outs to go. It’s just a tough pill to swallow.”
The season started to feel over when Kendrick homered off Harris, who had dotted the low-andoutside corner with a cutter. In his eight-year career, Harris had thrown that pitch 144 times and allowed only seven hits before Kendrick lined it off the right-field foul pole.
Carlos Correa fixated on it with teammates. He could not believe it.
“Nasty pitch,” Correa said. “Down and away. Perfectly located. I don’t understand how he did that. How did he manage to take that ball out?”
Scenes of heartbreak scattered throughout the Astros clubhouse. Wade Miley approached Michael Brantley for a hug.
“You’re the man,” Miley said during their embrace.
“You’re the man,” Brantley replied.
Yordan Alvarez, the towering rookie, snuck in to latch on, wrapping the already-hugging veterans in a bigger group hug. Alvarez rested his head against the back of Brantley’s shoulder.
A powwow took place around Joe Smith’s locker. He sat in his chair and nibbled on the rim of a paper cup. Brantley sat in Smith’s locker. Jake Marisnick and Osuna pulled up chairs. Jose Altuve rolled around on the ground, unable to stay still but unable to move on. None of the players still had on their jerseys, but all wore layers of their Game 7 attire. Some of them muttered. Others stared into space.
Alex Bregman looked like a halfnaked zombie in his sliding shorts, wandering around and loitering.
Chris Devenski sized up the items in his locker. It had been covered with a tarp more than a month ago, when the Astros clinched the AL West and Devenski reached in to unearth a stash of stogies. Now, he emptied his locker into a cardboard box. He’d rather do it himself than leave the chore to a clubhouse attendant.
In his street clothes, pitching coach Brent Strom went around locker to locker to say his goodbyes.
“Amigo,” he said, pulling in Osuna.
Minutes later, Strom exited the clubhouse to have a moment to anguish alone. He stopped at the corner of two adjoining walls and leaned into it. He pressed his head against his forearm. He sniffled.
Josh James, who this year battled through injuries at the start and in the middle of his first full season in the majors, could not clear his tears. They replenished when he tried.
The sadness in his eyes was not because the Astros lost. The collective ache in the clubhouse was over knowing the fun was over.
What started around the time Kendrick homered would be undeniable by Brantley’s game-ending strikeout: The Astros knew their team, with its current roster, won’t get to play together again.
“Great group of guys,” James said. “Losing a lot of guys from the bullpen to free agency.”
Cole is one of Houston’s several impending free agents, including catcher Robinson Chirinos and a glut of relievers: Harris, Smith, Collin McHugh and Hector Rondon.
“A lot of guys that I call friends,” James said, his voice softer. “You spend every day with the same group of guys. You know their families. They know yours. You become more than teammates. It’s hard to watch some of them go.” His voice petered out. “Tough,” he added. These Astros, even the ones with rings from the 2017 World Series, likely will bounce grandchildren on their knees and tell them the 107-win team from 2019 was the best they’d ever been on.
“This was not our goal,” Correa said. “All this time we’re playing baseball, me going through injuries, getting back, playing with my teammates, and then three innings. That was just so hard.”
Correa was not sure how long the sting would last. Losing to the Red Sox in the American League Championship last season took him a few days to get over.
He mentioned spring training, less than three months away.
“I would love for us to stay together for a long time,” Correa said.
Cole knows the kind of team he would be rejoining, as well as the guys he will be missing.
“The group is so unique,” Cole said. “I’m gonna have some friends from this clubhouse for the rest of my life. You just don’t take situations like that for granted.”