San Diego Union-Tribune (Sunday)
TATIS GIVES FANS A HOMETOWN HERO, ESPECIALLY THE KIDS
Ryan James Tatis Church was born at Sharp Grossmont Hospital in La Mesa to 27-year-old parents Hope Fermil and Cody Church, one hour after the Padres beat the Cardinals in Game 3 of the NL Wild Card Series in October and 143 days before Fernando Tatis Jr. signed a 14-year, $340 million contract with the organization that brought him to the majors.
The game was on television as Fermil was in labor, but more importantly, Game 2 was on the night before, when doctors sent her to the hospital for an early induction and Church was forced to stay home because of COVID-19 restrictions.
The engaged couple spent much of the pregnancy watching the Padres on television and for months toyed with naming their son after the superstar shortstop.
“As soon as we found out he was a boy, I threw it out there,” Church said.
“He wanted Tatis to be the first name, but my mom was totally against that,” Fermil added with a chuckle.
A friend suggested they name him Fernando Manuel Wil Eric, after the Padres who hit four consecutive grand slams last season, but that was a no-go, too.
So they settled on Ryan — Fermil’s middle name — and James — her grandfather’s name. Tatis was still not in the picture.
Until he was. She flipped on the television to watch Game 2 (having watched the first few innings on her phone as she waited for her room to be ready) when the Padres started making the comeback that would keep them alive in their quest to win their first postseason series since 1998.
“Tatis was up with the bases loaded,” said Church, who was watching at home, “and she texted me: ‘Oh man, if he hits a grand slam right here we might have to throw his name in there.’ ”
He didn’t, and it was time for Church to drive to the hospital, so he turned on the radio broadcast. Soon after, Tatis hit a three-run home run in the bottom of the sixth inning, then another tworun blast one inning later. The Padres won the game, 11-9.
Church made his case. “I told her, ‘Hey, two home runs, 5 RBIS is better than a grand slam in my book,’ ” he said. “So we said we were going to do it, and we put the name up on the whiteboard in the hospital room and that was his name for the whole birthing plan.”
Fermil’s water broke the next morning and Ryan James Tatis Church was born that night, with jet black hair and green eyes. He weighed 7 pounds, 14 ounces, and sported his first Padres onesie when he was five days old.
“It’s been only two years,” said Church, “but one day I can tell him that you’re named after one of the best shortstops in Padres history, someone who saved this Padres franchise.”
Motivated by kids
When Tatis Jr. signed the piece of paper that would change the course of his life forever, he did so with the idea it was a “statue contract.” If he played well enough and met the expectations in front of him, one day a statue might be erected at Petco Park next to two other Padres greats, Tony Gwynn and Trevor Hoffman.
At 22, Tatis takes pride in knowing he’s accomplished what so few ever will, while pocketing a fortune that will take care of him and his family for several lifetimes. But his motivation extends beyond the money or the mentions. It’s also about the kids.
“That’s one of the biggest key factors over here,” he said. “Being able to be one of those athletes that kids grow up to, that’s one of the main things that keeps me pushing every single day, that gives me more gas and more motor.”
Children everywhere have a player to look up to in Tatis, to want to be like, to emulate and imitate with bat flips, blonde locks and steals of home. In San Diego, kids have enhanced bragging rights: They can claim Tatis as one of their own and they are, emphatically, arms wide to embrace that smile and swagger in a city that’s been parched of sports heroes for so long.
Two days before the deal was officially announced, Tatis retweeted a picture he had been tagged in of a 1year-old boy looking up at a life-size decal of him on a wall in his bedroom.
“For the generation to come,” he wrote.
The little boy in that picture is Kai Mac Riley, who will be 2 in June. Each morning, he greets the Tatis poster, all 33 inches of him pressed against the 7-foot body of Tatis in a hitting stance wearing a brown jersey, sand pants and that familiar flash of pink to honor his mom. “He touches the wall and babbles in his own little language,” said his dad, Keenan, a lifelong Padres fan. “He definitely is recognizing it and it means something to him.”
Not wanting to influence Kai too much but wanting to provide his son with some of the things he loved growing up, Keenan and his wife, Peris, bought the decal in December to complement a painting of the Swingin’ Friar and a chair shaped like a baseball glove, among other baseball novelties.
“We thought in the spirit of him being able to look up to somebody, he truly looks up to that,” said Keenan, grinning.
Keenan, 32, grew up with his own Tatis: Mr. Padre, Tony Gwynn. “Of course he was just an incredible baseball player, but the type of person that he was, what made him Mr. Padre, what everybody fell in love with was his character,” Keenan said. “I see a lot of the same things in Tatis. He loves playing the game of baseball and he plays with heart and passion. That’s something I want Kai to see every single day. Whether or not he plays baseball or enjoys baseball, I want him to see that if you take that same attitude and apply it to anything you do in life, you’re going to be successful.”
He realizes the influence a player like Gwynn or Tatis can have on a child and remembers the profound impact it had on him.
“A superstar like Tatis, you’d be lucky to see play at any ballpark in America, but to see him night in and night out in your own backyard, that’s something really, really special,” Keenan said. “Growing up, he’ll start to really understand what that means. Kids just like Kai are going to get a piece of this for a lot of their childhood.”
It sounds simple to acknowledge the next generation, but it’s not that way for every athlete. Some don’t want the responsibility; others don’t put that much thought into it. Some are built for the cameras and some prefer to stay behind closed doors. But for those that get it, the outcome can be magical.
“When my dad was Fernando’s age, I was too young to be able to see it or understand it, but by the time my dad was in his 30s I recognized that he felt there was a duty to make sure the folks that came out to see him got what they came for,” said Tony Gwynn Jr., former major league outfielder and now the analyst for Padres radio broadcasts. “My dad was very serious when the game started. You might see him flash a smile every once in a while, but mostly very serious. But once the game ended he recognized there was a responsibility to bring the next generation of kids in because he knew it was him who they were coming to see. He knew he had an obligation to do his best and afterwards he took care of the people who supported him.”
They’re in different times, of course: Gwynn in the 1980s and ’90s, absent of social media and with San Diego quietly tucked away in the West, receiving little attention from the rest of the league; Tatis, living in an era where people around the globe see and hear virtually every move he makes instantly. But there are more similarities than differences. Both wanted to stay in the same place for an entire career — “Clearly when you sign a 14-year deal you say this is my home. And that’s one of the reasons people love Fernando. He didn’t ask for any opt outs and he got a no-trade clause, and to me that’s the ultimate commitment. We haven’t had that since my pops,” said Gwynn Jr. — and then there is Tatis’ uncanny ability to recognize the responsibility at such a young age.
Gwynn Jr. shares a recent example of something he saw while perched in the radio booth at Salt River Fields in Arizona, when the Padres played the Diamondbacks in a Cactus League game.
“Fernando was in the ondeck circle, and there was a dad in the stands trying to position his kid for a picture with Fernando in the background. Fernando didn’t know what was going on at first, but caught on and very quickly turned his head toward the dad to let him take the picture and then went right back to his at-bat. He recognizes it and I think that’s special.”
‘You did this? I love it’
Alana Olivas, 11, was frustrated. She had been trying to get a picture she drew of Tatis into his hands — done in pen and watercolor, browns and yellows, with a personalized note — but there were always too many people, too many crowds, and she just couldn’t push through. “I was really bummed out,” she said.
Then, one night, it happened. He was walking home, after a game. She had her drawing with her and thrust it into his hands.
“You did this?” Tatis asked incredulously. “Wow, I love it. I love it.”
Alana was speechless. “I was literally shaking,” she said. “He’s like my idol, and he was liking the thing I just gave him. I was in shock. No words were coming out of my mouth.
“It made me feel special, even though I’m one of a billion people in this world. In that moment I felt like I was the only person in the world, like the only person that existed. I think that ranks as the No. 1 coolest moment in my life.”
Her mom, Tanya, remembers the interaction with Tatis.
“I was tearing up, because he was doing exactly what I would have hoped for,” she said, her voice cracking. “He could have said thanks and see you later, but instead took it in and complimented it.”
Alana’s dad, Adán, posted the picture of Alana’s drawing to Instagram and tagged Tatis. Within hours, Tatis privately messaged him and asked for their address. Within days, a gameused bat showed up at their home in Chula Vista, autographed to Alana and her 7year-old brother, Damián.
“That really represents who he is,” said Tanya, 39, who used the words “loyal” and “respectful” when talking about Tatis. “He’s going to show love to the kids and the fans. People see him and see the swag. But the mom in me sees how young he is, 22 years old, and so mature and humble. For these kids to see yeah, you can be on the field and be swaggy and do all these moves, but still keep your feet on the ground and remember where you come from.”
The Olivas family has been season ticket holders for seven years. They’ve gone to games at Petco Park since it opened. Tanya has seen her kids try to interact with many players over the years, but not all interact back.
“I think Tatis understands that one moment, one wave from him, one picture from him can make not only a little kid’s day, but their year, and have a big impact on them,” she said. “He gets it.”
For the next generation
Last October, 10-year-old Brody Lillard pulled on his white baseball pants and cleats, gear he wears regularly for his travel ball team. But today’s uniform was different. On his head he fastened a blonde braided wig crafted by his mom, Jamie, and wiggled his arms through a brown-and-gold Padres jersey with felt letters glued to the back to spell the name of his inspiration.
It was Halloween and it was time to be Fernando Tatis Jr., of course.
“I wanted to be Tatis for Halloween because I think he is one of the best players in our generation right now,” said Brody, who plays for the San Diego Aces along with his 13-year-old brother, Blake.
Asked about his bat flips, Blake had one word: “Impeccable.” Not many home runs are hit on their travel ball team, but Brody practices the f lips when he plays Wiff le ball at his neighbor’s house. The older brother is particularly fond of the one where Tatis opens his hand and lets the bat fall, like a mic drop.
“Tatis is just really inspiring to watch,” said Blake. “Baseball is a game and you’re supposed to have fun with it and he makes it look really fun and cool.
“It would be a dream to meet him. I would tell him that I look up to him. … I’m excited for the next 14 years to come. I’ll be 27 in 14 years and I wish that if I make it that far, which I hopefully will, that I will get the chance to play against him or play with him on the same team.”
Tatis would probably like nothing more than to greet him on the field wearing that infectious smile, by that time in the sunset of his career, with wisdom and experience as abundant as his accolades and a soul that harbors an era of ballplayers who grew up chanting his name.
“I love this city and I love the fans,” he said. “The players I admire the most, they stayed with one team. … Let’s do it for the next generation. They’re going to keep this game alive.”