Don’t get sucked into outrage over Tatis grand slam
In the eighth inning of a game his San Diego Padres led by seven runs over the Texas Rangers, Fernando Tatis Jr., reveling in the spoils of a 3-and-0 count, swung and hammered his second home run of the game, a grand slam that turned a rout into a runaway. That’s fine.
Afterward, Rangers manager Chris Woodward expressed dismay over Tatis swinging in such a count in such a situation, one that barely registers on baseball’s spectrum that’s roughly the equivalent of not blitzing the other quarterback when you’re up six touchdowns.
“Just because I don’t like it,” the second-year manager said of Tatis’ swing, “doesn’t mean it’s not right.” That’s also fine.
We’re all for marveling at greatness, and Tatis exudes it every time he steps on a baseball diamond. It’s true: Tatis swinging at that pitch rather than accepting a 3-and-1 count brought more joy to the world, or at least to the scattered few actually tuned into the late innings of a Padres-Rangers blowout on a Monday evening in the middle of a global pandemic.
It would behoove Woodward to lighten up a little bit, sure.
Yet while keeping the masses entertained is what funds his paycheck, his more specific job is managing the Texas Rangers. In an era when the front office increasingly calls the shots, defending your players is perhaps a bigger part of a manager’s responsibility than ever.
Sure, Woodward could’ve scored some Tough Guy Points by tossing his pitcher under the bus and joining the chorus to suggest his guy make better pitches rather than expect a courtesy take from the opposition. But Woodward, now suspended along with pitcher Ian Gibaut, must manage the Rangers not just Monday, but also Tuesday night and the day after and the month after that. If he wants to manage them much longer than two seasons, an almost blind devotion to players is necessary.
That brings us to Padres manager Jayce Tingler, whose offseason hiring furrowed more than a few brows, given his paucity of managerial experience – nothing beyond the Dominican or Arizona summer leagues, save for a 10-game winter ball stint.
After the Padres’ 14-4 conquest, Tingler seemed more concerned with pleasing Woodward and the baseball establishment than backing his player, revealing Tatis missed a sign to take a pitch, that the Padres “aren’t trying to run up the score” and that Tatis should “probably see a strike right there.”
A key prerequisite for any manager is the willingness and ability to lie on behalf of your players, be it about an injury or an on-field gaffe or a communication breakdown. That applies perhaps double for your superstars, assuming they are acting in good faith and producing.
“We had a conversation about it” usually suffices.
Instead, Tingler thought it better to let the world know that not only did he think Tatis’ swing was unsporting, but, by golly, he missed a sign, too.
Little wonder, then, that the Industrial Take Complex was waiting for him online.
Yet even the most strident “Let The
Kids Play” take-ologist would have to admit that there is a line, somewhere. Certainly, Tatis didn’t come near it in slugging his major league-leading 11th home run that ensured not only victory but a night off for the Padres’ high-leverage relievers.
So how about this: Bottom of the eighth, up 15-1, bases loaded, a trembling rookie unable to find the strike zone. OK to swing from your heels on 3-0, there?
If your answer is yes, OK. Yet also know that reasonable people may see it differently, and perhaps even have a moral leg to stand on.
Further, for those suggesting, “This is why nobody likes the MLB and why the NBA is so great!” consider that unwritten rules are everywhere. If a team is in dribble-out mode over the final 24 seconds of an NBA game, would the opposition receive it well if they turned tail and tossed an alley-oop over a bewildered defender?
Baseball is trudging out of its dark ages and into, well, something we’re not quite sure of yet. The game is better than ever or maybe worse than it’s ever been or strangely, perhaps, both of the above. Monday’s tete-a-Tatis in Texas was a reminder that ambiguity will never die in a game where almost everything is quantifiable, to the delight of some and the disgust of others.
Tatis is fine. Woodward is fine. Baseball is fine.
This is fine.