Tulowitzki needs no spotlight
Veteran shortstop eschews being centre of attention
DUNEDIN— Some people have a distinct stature, a commanding presence, an aura.
Suggest to Troy Tulowitzki that he’s one such individual, at least in the self-absorbed universe of baseball, and frown lines appear mid-brow. The hazel eyes don’t exactly roll upwards but slide sideways, towards disinterest and disengagement.
See, this is just the kind of exceptional dimension the strapping Blue Jays shortstop is keen to discard, or in any event downplay.
He won’t be typecast as special. Gosh, certainly not exemplifying baseball professionalism.
Tulowitzki, always a bit scratchy with reporters, would clearly rather be doing just about anything other than enduring a locker cubicle interview. Listen up to John Gibbons instead. “He keeps to himself, a very private guy,” the manager suggests of his chronically terse clubhouse specimen.
Which doesn’t amount to a hill of beans for team dynamics.
“I really think he was the key,” says Gibbons, revisiting the late season transition, a signature franchise move for now-departed GM Alex Anthopoulos. “He immediately stabilized our infield defence.’’ More to it, though, than the obvious. “The way he carries himself, he’s probably the most professional guy I’ve been around,” Gibbons continues. “He doesn’t talk a lot. He goes about his business. But he’ll say things to (Josh) Donaldson and (Jose) Bautista and they’ll listen to him, because they respect him. He’s really been the calming influence around here, because we’ve got big personalities.”
Gobsmacker personas throughout the lineup. Twitter-tweeters, even. Doubtless Tulowitzki would rather drive needles in his eyes than build a social media brand. The Marlboro Man, if anybody in baseball still smoked. Prefers to duck behind his teammates’ dialogue boxes — with the media hovering anyway. Afield, he’s just as chatty, in endless conversation with Donaldson and double-play partner — his biggest fan-boy — Ryan Goins at second.
Toronto, in fact, may have the most garrulous infield in Major League Baseball.
Before we go any further, insert news bulletin here on the status of Tulowitzki’s right paw, plonked by a Bartolo Colon pitch in Wednesday’s game against the Mets.
Knuckles swollen, nothing broken and shown by x-rays, scant treatment Thursday beyond hot and cold, and no gripping permitted of either bat or ball.
“It was obviously scary for me because, you know, when you get hit in the hand anything can happen,” said Tulowitzki.
Recall that this was the anything-can-happen poster-boy last year, in that outfield collision with Kevin Pillar that cracked his scapula.
“Luckily everything’s OK. I feel great today.”
Could be back in the lineup Saturday.
It had been alarming, however, especially to Tulowitzki, who suffered a fractured wrist a couple of seasons ago. “I felt fine coming out of (that) game, so you never know. There’s definitely some worry. But we’re past that now because we know the x-ray is negative.”
That was a must-do scrum, outside the clubhouse.
At his locker, words are coaxed out of Tulowitzki only when the subject turns to Goins, sitting at his locker alongside. Goins is Sancho Panza to Tulowitzki’s Don Quixote. Together they were the best double-play tandem in baseball after tall Tulo arrived in Toronto. A bromance, it’s been described. Goins might be the supplicant — always close at hand at the ballpark, ’round the batting cage, the acolyte — but Tulowitzki appears to dote, as well, often inviting Goins over to his place for dinner.
The synchronicity was rapid and seamless. Yet Tulowitzki claims the shortstop-second baseman symbiosis is oft overstated.
“Sometimes people look too far into the communication of a shortstop and a second baseman. When you have guys that are talented and who’ve been playing the game for a long time, it’s going to mesh better than people think. That’s the case with me and Ryan here. We have a good understanding about the game of baseball and what we have to do to be successful. When you have guys like that, who have the feel of the game, it makes the transition a lot quicker and easier.”
Obviously, Goins was a splendid defensive player before Tulowitzki got to town. But that mojo didn’t exist with the physically deteriorating Jose Reyes.
“We feed off each other, and I think that’s the case for the whole infield,” says Tulowitzki.
He allows that Goins “complements’’ him.
We’re grateful he didn’t say Goins “completes me.”
Gibbons: “It’s neat to watch. Tulo brings out the confidence in Ryan, builds him up.’’
Recently, Tulowitzki gave an unusually candid interview to Bob Nightengale of USA Today. His displeasure — nay, rage — at the blindsiding trade from Colorado is common knowledge. (And he’s well over it.) Intriguingly, Tulowitzki expressed relief at being “just another guy” with the Jays (as if ).
“The biggest difference is that I don’t feel like a teacher anymore. The young guys were scared to walk around. I was trying to teach these guys how to handle themselves, instead of just going out there and playing the game the right way. I enjoy not getting all of those questions now.”
Naturally, Tulowitzki doesn’t wish to revisit those quotes when the Star comes along, waving that story. “I’m done with that.” Gibbons’ take: “They were a good team for a number of years, a veteran-laden team. Then they started their rebuilding process, mostly young guys and him. He probably got a little tired of that, would be my guess.”
Except he has been a teacher in Toronto, if mostly by example.
Goins claims he doesn’t nag Tulowitzki. “I don’t normally ask him too many questions. We just go about our business, throw ideas off each other.’’ Then immediately contradicts himself. “He asks me questions, I ask him questions. It’s not so much that he’s teaching me the game. He helps me out if I ever I need it, if he sees anything. I can’t speak to his time with (the Rockies). But I don’t feel he has to do any teaching here. “We all help each other, honestly. “And if it looks like we’re having fun, it’s because we are.”