I watched the Blue Jays on TV Friday and found myself cheering for the other team, partly because Toronto
ain't goin' nowhere this season, mostly because Bartolo Colon was starting for the Twins. He's so fun to watch -- a big fat 44-year-old kid, smiling throughout the game, tossing the ball up to himself on the mound between batters. The announcers explained he was wearing the name "Morales" on his jersey in honor of his late mother (her maiden name); I'd thought he was maybe teasing fellow husky ballplayer, and Jays DH, Kendrys Morales.
Colon didn't have great stuff, as expected (Atlanta released him earlier this season, and his ERA with Minnesota coming into this game was 6.66 in 7 starts). His fastball rarely touched 90 MPH and he didn't strike out one Jay all night. But thanks to some luck and Byron Buxton's fine defense in the outfield, he entered the bottom of the 7th with a 5-1 lead. He got the first two batters out, then up came Justin Smoak, the one Jay who had had success against Colon this game with a double, home run and walk. Smoak hit a single, and even though there was no play at first Colon ran over to the bag just to wrap his arm around Smoak's waist and say something to him, something complimentary judging by the expressions on both men's faces. Then Twins manager Paul Molitor came out with the hook and Colon walked off the mound to appreciative applause from the Toronto audience. He got the win, the 239th of his career, moving him into a tie with Three Finger Brown and David Wells.
Not that the final result hugely influenced his ability to enjoy the day. As a writer I linked earlier in this thread
wrote:
On the field, Colon responds to success the same way he does to disaster: with a bemused half-smile. He may, after giving up a home run, develop a sudden interest in passing clouds overhead, but that is about the extent of his emotional displays. I don’t mean to suggest that Colon doesn’t care about winning or losing—just that he seems to float above both. He appears to take pleasure in each game, in each pitch, without being overly concerned with the ultimate result of either.
Or, more simply and surprisingly, he seems happy. Happiness is something we tend to begrudge modern athletes. They are meant to suffer in the weight room, torture themselves on the field, grind toward the ultimate goal without ever finding satisfaction, even in victory. These are the traits we celebrate in champions like Tom Brady or Michael Jordan. But is Colon’s not the more appropriate position for an adult to take? What if we entertained the notion that obsessive competitiveness after, say, the age of thirty-five isn’t a sign of high character but, rather, deep neurosis?
EDIT: I looked up what it was that Colon said to Smoak after that single that led to Colon getting yanked. He said: "Hey, are you trying to kill me?"
8/27/2017 3:29 AM (edited)