Light is Green for Jeter

Jeter's still going hard, even at age 38

Like he always does, Derek Jeter strolled to the plate for his first at-bat of the game, called time with a perfunctory wave of the wrist, lazily wagged his bat, and looked up at pitcher Francisco Liriano. He fell still for a moment, like a cat ready to pounce, and awaited Liriano’s delivery. Like he often does, he leapt at the first offering, disinterested in working the count and “waiting for your pitch.” He’d already found it. Like he rarely does, he jolted the up-and-in fastball high and deep into left field and watched it clear the fence as he rounded first base. Then he slowed into a more professional trot, though without a hint of hubris, dutifully pounded fists with third-base coach Rob Thompson, before quietly high-fiving the rest of his teammates in the dugout. He washed it all down with a routine swig of water, and took his place on the top step of the dugout to watch the rest of the inning. Like he always does.

It was his 8^th hit in his previous ten at-bats, and his 168^th of the season, six more than he had last year. It was his second home run in as many games, and his 12^th of the season, six more than he had last year. In case you forgot, it’s not even September yet. That’s the kind of year it has been for the perennial shortstop of the New York Yankees.

He is leading the Majors in hits. He is second in multi-hit games (51). Only four players across baseball have been on base more times than he has (202). He has raked to the tune of a .324 average, this a year after he dropped below .300 – which would be like Canada randomly dropping below the U.S. - and two years after he stumbled to an unthinkable .270. As he continues to grow older, he only looks younger.

At 38, Jeter should be finished. He should be sinking, and sinking fast, like his buddy over at third base, who was recently felled by a changeup and duly sent to the D.L. like an old droopy Basset Hound being taken to the vet. He should be waving at fastballs, flailing at curveballs, and throwing his hands up in exasperation after each nasty pitch that smacks the catcher’s glove. He should be embarking on his farewell tour, ticking off his “lasts” and drowning himself drunkenly in the Bleacher Creatures’ cries. We should all be at port, saying our final goodbyes and paying our final respects, loyally waving until he drifts off into the horizon, Minka Kelly under his arm reassuring him of his decision.

But Derek Jeter, the captain of the greatest franchise in the history of sports, doesn’t subscribe to “shoulds.” He doesn’t pay interest to averages and prognostications, doesn’t buy into “truths” of the game just because others have rendered them true. He doesn’t care that he is the oldest starting shortstop in the MLB, a position built for young bodies and springy legs. He doesn’t care that he is the oldest leadoff hitter in the MLB, a spot reserved for dynamic base-runners and patient batsman. And he most certainly doesn’t care, that despite his age and allegedly decreasing range, he has played in more games than any other A.L. shortstop this season. He doesn’t care about all this because he doesn’t need an alibi, he isn’t looking for excuses. Deterioration with age can be a self-fulfilling prophecy if a player accepts it as a rule. Well, s**t, I’m 38, I shouldn’t be hitting like I used to anyways. And when this thought enters a player’s mind, it doesn’t leave. It grows and festers as he searches for an explanation as to why he suddenly can’t catch up to that high heater, can’t reach that grounder in the hole, can’t beat that throw to home plate. Age is a sensible reason. Jeter, on the other hand, figures If I train twice as hard, I’ll hit like I used to. What’s more, he doesn’t choose this philosophy over another, doesn’t weigh it against decelerating, breaking or stopping. For him it’s the only option there is.

But hard work and a firm resolve aren’t going to yield 168 hits and produce a career year. Not alone, at least. His insistence is then complemented by immense natural talent, and the hits rain down like fireworks on the 4^th of July. What Jeter does at the plate, what he continues to do at the plate, is truly remarkable. His penchant for going the other way reveals a feat of bat control unparalleled in the annals of precision. Bill James, the father of advanced baseball metrics (yeah, the Moneyball guy), explained it best when he said, “I don’t think very many people understand how unique he is, as a hitter. At-bat after at-bat, he is able to hit the ball to right field NOT by swinging late, but by just clipping the inside of the baseball, hitting the ball off-center so that it flares off his bat to right field. Other people do it once in a while by accident, but I’ve never seen anybody other than Jeter do it constantly.” Try connecting with a 95 mph fastball; try, even, to graze it. Then try hitting it in an exact spot every time. It’s an impossible-sounding challenge, and one Jeter has been answering for 17 years.   

Over that span, he has had seven 200-hit seasons, eleven .300+ seasons, and been to enough All-Star games to write a memoir about. (Yes, Jeter at the ASG is like a headmaster at the All-School meeting, but still). He stuffed his bumble-gum card with the kind of inflated offensive numbers you would expect from a corner outfielder, or a first baseman. And now with that decorated success in his wake, and seemingly none ahead of him, Jeter is having arguably his best season ever. Though his power is dimmer than it once was, he is on pace for 221 hits, two more than his current career best. In fact, Jeter’s performance this year has been so impressive, so mind-boggling for someone his age, he was even recently mentioned in association with performance enhancers. That’s right, the statesman of baseball, the face of fair play, the most honest guy since Honest Abe, is being speculated about because he is that good…Because he is transcending the truths of sport – because he isn’t even listening to them.

At some point, he will have to acknowledge them. But that time seems a long way away. Right now, Jeter is leading the Yankee charge into October, leapfrogging hits legends along the way. At 38, of course, he has reached a crossroads in his career. A stoplight lingers above this intersection, and threatens to fall red like it has on so many players before him. But with Jeter approaching, it has flashed green and gestured the Captain onward.