Rosie DiManno Josh Donaldson, a.k.a. Mr. Heart and Soul,
Donaldson rescues Blue Jays’ season and sees a way out
All the shades, all the facets, of Josh Donaldson — Most Vital Player. The pith and the pendulum of the Blue Jays. This was the Donaldson that everybody saw: Turning on a third inning 2-and-2 curveball that passed just fetchingly enough across the meat of the plate, cranking it over the wall in left centre to put Toronto up for the first time in the American League Championship Series.
Leaping sideways in the air to spear a liner off the bat of Carlos Santana in the fifth frame, with two Indians on, then blistering a strike to first base that ended the surge and the inning, in a moment where it felt like Cleveland could assert itself forever, irreversibly, on the outcome of Game 4 and the league pennant. Donaldson jumping again with the thrill of it and pumping his fist, emotion spilling out of every pore and orifice.
Donaldson standing at the plate, taken aback that he was being intentionally walked in the seventh, with Jays standing on second and third, loading up the bases, Cleveland preferring to take its chances with Edwin Encarnacion, merely one of the greatest RBI men of his generation.
They were that leery — afraid — of Donaldson. And, on this screeching baseball U-turn day, with good reason.
But there was also the Donaldson most people didn’t see:
The Donaldson who admitted he tossed and turned the night before, demanding of himself: How can I fix this? How can I change this?
The Donaldson who strode into the locker room early Tuesday afternoon, called a meeting with his ’mates, took control, laid his banging heart on the table.
“I’m not going to give too much away of what I had to say,” the third baseman and reigning MVP told reporters after Toronto thumped the Indians 5-1, a do-or-die victory that had Donaldson’s fingerprints all over it.
“Just more getting everybody’s attention and focus and understanding. I mean, everybody knew coming into today how important today was. At the same time I just wanted to reiterate that and let the boys know that I was coming to play today.”
Having, you might say, one hell of a Viking day.
Because, in Mark Messier fashion, somebody had to take this team by the throat and shake it out of its ALCS paralysis. Time was running out.
“The fact of the matter is: I’m not ready to go home,” said Donaldson, surely speaking on behalf of every Jay who contributed in ways small and large, as star and as spear-carrier, to the outcome that staved off post-season elimination, plunked the Jays back in the middle of this fray, albeit still down 3-1, and every day from now on in will be D-Day, Groundhog Day.
“I feel like our team is capable of winning this entire thing.” Not sounding remotely ridiculous when he said it either. “But that’s more of the big picture.’’
But, golly, did Donaldson ever wear his heart and his guts on his sleeve. Every baseball act, save from moments spent deep in the dugout, was steeped with passion, with significance.
“Today I was emotional for the fact that, first off, that’s how I am. But I’m going to let it show out there when I’m helping my team. And for the sheer fact when my teammates have success, I’m happy and emotional for that, as well.”
It’s called leadership. The Jays have tons of it, in different projections, from Russell Martin to Jose Bautista to Troy Tulowitzki. But the molten core of this team is Donaldson.
If the Jays needed picking up off the floor before Game 4, fine, he’d be the janitor too.
“He showed his emotion,” reiterated starter and winner Aaron Sanchez as the two of them sat on the podium afterwards, the yin and yang of this W. “He said, understanding it’s a must-win game, just to go out there and give everything you’ve got. You may not be able to play again. Be aware of the situation.”
Donaldson’s hyperawareness was most evident in that defensive gem which kept further Indian runs off the board, smothering Cleveland’s rally in the crib.
Martin watched that episode unfold with oh-no anxiety thumping at his ribs. “I thought it was going to get through right off the bat, and then Donaldson took an incredible first step, and angled himself a little bit towards the outfield and made a just unbelievable play. Off the bat, that’s the one where I just say, ‘damn,’ and then I see him get there and get up and throw just a bullet to first base. That’s a motivating play right there.”
So yes, they were all motivated and dialed in and stroking their ears in unison. Because, Donaldson’s direct impact aside, this was also a game of multiple moving parts, like a Rube Goldberg mechanical piece of art: from Sanchez, tamping down the over-amp of his last outing in the final division series, giving his team six commanding innings of two-hit starting pitching — a far superior performance to Cleveland ace Corey Kluber on three days’ rest; to a three-pack of relievers who surrendered not a single hit; to that tension-reducing triple and run scored by Ezequiel Carrera; to Encarnacion’s two-RBI single — as in (eyeroll) since you seem to think I (with my nine career Grand Slams) am a sack of potatoes compared to my teammate Josh.
They worked hard for this one, Toronto. The game didn’t come to them with any soft spots, up against their top starter and then the mosh pit of relievers that confounded them in those three previous encounters — albeit without Andrew Miller or Cody Allen in the mix. But Donaldson took the lead. “I feel like I have the capability to help my team win. There’s a lot of guys in that clubhouse that also have a capability. But there was no way — if we were to lose today — that I was going to leave this series and not feel like I had an impact on it.”
Slammed headfirst into it, left a cartoon outline on it. Not like the chalk outline of a murder scene, though.
These Jays are still very much alive.