When you write about sabermetrics, the word jump is your best friend. There are only so many ways to explain that a number got bigger from one period of time to the next, and the word increase carries a vanishingly small amount of sex appeal. On the other hand, jump is an action verb that can lend some verve to, say, a dry passage about Jurickson Profar’s expected weighted on-base average, just to pick one completely random example off the top of my head:
Today is the rare day when we actually get to use the word jump to talk about a jump, because on Tuesday, when Rangers third baseman Josh Smith hit a towering chopper to first base, he didn’t just jump — he jumped. In the bottom of the eighth, Yankees pitcher Tommy Kahnle dotted a changeup on the corner of the zone, and Smith rolled over it with an awkward swing that sent the ball right into the ground. It bounced up toward the roof and came down headed almost directly for the bag, where the waiting DJ LeMahieu lost it in the lights.
The ball hit him in the glove, then bounced right into the base path, whereupon both Smith and Kahnle, who had heretofore been drifting nonchalantly toward the base, instantly shifted into top gear. Kahnle made a sliding play to barehand the ball, but the slide took him into the basepath. In a daring display of both initiative and inertia, Smith managed to hurdle the turtling pitcher and step on the base without breaking stride: It was a remarkable play, and after my eighth or ninth viewing, I started to notice the little things.
Actually, that’s not true. First, I noticed one extremely big thing. Check out Josh Smith’s quadriceps muscle: Good Lord. That quad needs its own post office. The next time somebody tells you that all baseball players are slow and out of shape, show them this picture and take a few steps back so that they have space to react. No wonder Smith was able to leap over Kahnle without breaking stride. I’m surprised he came back down to earth.
The biggest thing I noticed, though, was how differently the players on the field reacted based on their proximity to the play. Perspective changes everything, and the closer a player was to the play, the more concern they exhibited. I’ll show you what I mean. Here’s Kahnle’s body language in the split second when Smith was right over his head: This is what fear looks like.
Less than a second ago, this extremely muscly man was going all out for a baseball. Now he’s trying to set the world record for fastest assumption of the fetal position. No pitcher has ever been so thoroughly posterized. Smith is literally making the Jumpman logo on top of Kahnle’s head. Kids all over the country should be hanging this on their bedroom doors:
Speaking as someone who has taken the business end of a baseball cleat to the face before, I’m not trying to make fun of Kahnle’s reaction. When you find yourself helpless on the ground beneath a stampeding Josh Smith, cowering in fear is the appropriate course of action.
That was the person at the epicenter. Now let’s take one step back. Here’s the next-closest person to the play, DJ LeMahieu. He wasn’t in as much immediate danger as Kahnle. As such, he never quite looked like he was fearing for his life, but the first baseman went on his own roller coaster ride, and it’s fun to watch the video both forwards and backwards.
That way, you can watch LeMahieu go back and forth between concern for his teammate’s safety and concern for his own: You don’t have to be an awkward person to spend an inordinate amount of time wondering what your hands should be doing, but I’m pretty sure that you can’t be officially recognized as awkward without spending an inordinate amount of time wondering what your hands should be doing.
Those of us in the club will recognize that LeMahieu is putting on a master class of manual expression. First, he reacts to his error by bringing his hands to his chest, a move so classic that it’s literally the defining gesture of the guilt-ridden Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale in The Scarlet Letter. Next, he reacts to Kahnle’s close call by reaching toward him. It’s what you do when you want to help, but you’re too far away to actually do anything.
I personally find myself doing it from across the room any time my tiny nephew wobbles down the stairs without any regard for his own life. Lastly, if you slow the video to just the right speed, there’s a moment where it looks like LeMahieu is afraid that Smith is going to land directly on top of him, and he raises his hands as if to catch the plummeting third baseman. With nothing more than a first baseman’s mitt and one free hand, LeMahieu tells a compelling tale.
But travel just a few yards farther away and the play carried much less immediacy. Over at second base, Gleyber Torres crept toward first base, but he didn’t seem particularly concerned. Maybe it didn’t look quite as scary from his angle, or maybe he just had more pressing matters to attend to:
You know what? That’s a fun shot, what with Kahnle all blurred from the do or die dive and LeMahieu oozing concern, but let’s actually zoom in a little closer so we get a better look at Torres:
Yeah, that’s much better. Torres was definitely paying attention to the play, but he wasn’t so locked in that he couldn’t do a little multitasking. What makes this shot even better is that at the moment it appeared on the Rangers broadcast, color commentator Dave Valle was in the middle of a sentence that went, “…does a pretty nice job of grabbing this barehanded.” No, I’m not making that up. I’ve zoomed in on Torres, but otherwise the clip below is completely unedited:
