Kovacevic: Hey, look, this is how it'll be all summer ... so, who's in/out? taken at PNC Park (DK's Grind)

JUSTIN BERL / GETTY

Andrew McCutchen slides safely past the Diamondbacks' Gabriel Moreno in the sixth inning Friday night at PNC Park.

DK's Grind

Kovacevic: Hey, look, this is how it'll be all summer ... so, who's in/out?

By Dejan Kovacevic

Aug 3, 2024 • 1:52 am

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Go ahead and get upset. That’s part of it, too.

That’s part of pennant-race baseball. It's living and dying in the now. It's elation, exasperation and all the other -ations in between, all alternating from game to game, inning to inning, even pitch to pitch.

But here's what else is part of it:

That.

That's the genuinely great Andrew McCutchen, bouncing up from the most beautiful of headfirst slides and declaring in a single swoop that he's safe. And note that he's not facing the umpire, Ramon De Jesus. He's not facing his dugout to signal for a challenge, either, although he knew De Jesus had incorrectly called him out.

He's facing the fans.

He's facing ... you.

Think I'm stretching this for whatever reason?

OK, now watch his reaction once the replay officials get it right:

He did it again. He didn't turn to his teammates. He instead leaped up to the dugout railing and gestured to Pittsburgh in only the most Pittsburgh way possible: The twirl of a towel.

____________________

It's about belief.

The Pirates "didn't finish this game" against the Diamondbacks, as Derek Shelton would word it, falling short, 9-8. This despite having dug out of a five-run, first-inning hole to take a brief lead in the sixth inning with Cutch's slide. This despite having all three of their back-end relievers fresh. And yeah, this despite that crowd of 22,834 having been maybe the most impressive of the summer in its own way.

Let me explain ...

Luis Ortiz's first inning was so catastrophic that it'd come without precedent, as he'd serve up Corbin Carroll's leadoff triple (and resultant Little League home run after Oneil Cruz and Ke'Bryan Hayes botched the rest), and then three consecutive conventional home runs to Ketel Marte, Joc Pederson (into the Allegheny River, no less) and old friend Josh Bell.

And when I say without precedent, I mean it: Never in Major League Baseball history had any team accumulated 15 total bases through a game's first four batters.

"It wasn't good," Ortiz would tell me later. "Too many of the pitches were too easy to hit."

Yep. And the crowd, all through that inning, made clear its collective displeasure.

But, five innings later, as Ortiz handed the ball to Shelton and walked to the dugout, the crowd ... stood and cheered.

Was it because the mood had shifted, with the Pirates having pulled within 5-3 at that point?

Was it because Ortiz had been borderline pristine after that first inning, looking wholly like the confident starter he'd been for more than a month?

Was it because, with two more games against Arizona this weekend and Mitch Keller and Paul Skenes pitching, the crowd realized Ortiz might've made a massive difference toward still taking the series?

"I think everyone appreciated it," Bailey Falter, who knows a bit about rebounding from a bad first inning, would tell me. "And I know the guys in the bullpen appreciated it."

In turn, Ortiz appeared to appreciate being appreciated in what must've been an awkward moment.

"The fans were great," he'd tell me.

I never asked about the fans.

"I think it was a great fight, and the energy in the ballpark was great," Michael A. Taylor would tell me. "The fans were behind us the whole game."

I never asked about the fans.

"What an atmosphere. So cool," Colin Holderman would tell me. "The fans were great."

I never asked about the fans.

But the players noticed it and noted it, one after the other.

Belief, in any walk of life, can be bolstered by the many. It's one thing for teammates and coaches to remind each other regularly that they're contending for something. It's another thing for Ben Cherington and upper management to back that, within reason, at the trade deadline a week ago. But it's quite another to overhear it in the line at Giant Eagle, to borrow an awesome Clint Hurdle-ism from his tenure here.

And it's something else entirely to hear it after the literal worst start in the sport's history.

It's something else entirely to hear chants of 'ROW-DY!' ROW-DY!' segueing right into Rowdy Tellez's RBI single in the ninth that pulled the Pirates back within one.

It's something else entirely to hear Cruz being serenaded all evening upon following up his three-error mess in Houston -- and the rushed, errant throw in the first inning of this one -- with a 5-for-5, two-double, two-RBI, one-steal response.

Try to imagine the difference that makes.

____________________

This is my 20th year on the baseball beat in Pittsburgh, and I'm safe in saying I haven't written more than a handful of columns in all that time about fans or fan reactions, and I'm further safe in saying I've never written one advising anyone how to be a fan. That's 100 percent up to the fan. Or the non-fan, for that matter, if someone couldn't care less.

I won't break that trend here, I promise.

But allow me, please, to share this one observation that anyone can discard as they choose: This, my friends, is the team you've got. And, to whatever extent I'm capable of assessing public sentiment ... my God, the reactions are so extreme they'd easily be confused with politics. It's either plan-the-parade glee, or it's sheer rage, usually aimed at a single target that can vary from one event to the next.

I mean ... whoa, you know?

Deadline's over. Cherington got who he got. The chances of a poorly performing player being replaced are precisely the same as their chances of being replaced by someone currently in Indianapolis. No more pining for trades, praying for some huge haul, or whatever. So, it's either support who's here or be really, really frustrated.

Hayes has been awful at the plate. Even his two hits on this night were both low-velocity barking dogs, and his .591 OPS remains the worst by a mile among the majors' everyday third basemen. I've been as disappointed as anyone in what he's done, especially coming off that superb second half in 2023.

But what's to be done with him?

Bench him for Jared Triolo, whose OPS is 30 points worse?

Bench him for new guy Isiah Kiner-Falefa once he's available? And if so, who'd hold down second for Nick Gonzales?

More relevant -- and realistic -- I'll ask how the Pirates would benefit amid a realistic playoff run by outright burying their best bat from this time a year ago?

Cruz's error here was his 21st. His defense remains nowhere near good enough. But to read, see and hear some of the snarl after Houston ... I mean, this is very much a special talent offensively, and it'd be ignorant beyond words to suggest otherwise. He does things other humans can't. He'll lapse out on occasion, but he's not lazy or lacking motivation. He cares.

I asked Cruz after his 5-for-5 what he liked most about the game, and he replied through interpreter Stephen Morales, "Yeah, it's always a good sign that our team is fighting back. That's the sign of a playoff team. Hopefully, we'll be there at some point."

I never asked about playoffs.

They sure won't get there without the smiling version of Cruz. Beating him up over a known shortcoming, that's counterproductive, at the risk of stating the obvious. He feeds off positivity. Some do, and some don't, but he does.

Colin Holderman's lining up to be the latest, and his ceding two hits and the lead in the eighth won't help. But the first hit by Gabriel Moreno wouldn't have penetrated a wet paper towel on its plodding path through the right side, and the two-out, two-strike RBI single that'd follow was part of an amazing overall night for Geraldo Perdomo, Arizona's shortstop, who'd earlier delivered two defensive gems. Perdomo had fouled that second strike off his kneecap, crumbled in visible pain, jogged it off, got back into the box and did this:

That's insane. And not because it was Holderman's sharpest sweeper -- though it was down in the zone -- but because Perdomo had to bend that same knee to go down and get it, something Holderman told me was part of his thought process in putting that pitch there.

How about just tipping the cap, huh?

Same goes for Aroldis Chapman getting beaten on Bell's second home run an inning earlier:

Look at that pitch. No, for real, press play and look ... at ... that ... pitch. It's a 102.9-mph sinker with a Mark Prior-esque tail pulling it away from Bell, and the big man, who'd been 0 for 7 with two Ks in his career against Chapman, somehow launched that over the Clemente Wall.

“Everything he throws seems like it's 120 mph,” Bell would tell Phoenix reporters. “He threw two balls on the black inside, then tried to get me to swing and miss on a sinker, which is virtually what I’ve been doing my entire career against him. But happy to get the barrel there.”

He should be happy. And he was:

Funny thing, but the other guys wanted this, too.

But let's swing back: That pitch was extraordinary. It was, according to MLB.com, the fastest pitch ever hit for a home run since ball-tracking began in 2008.

"Yeah, it was 103 on the black," Shelton replied when I brought that up. "I think we all know from Josh being here, he's a strong kid, and he got the barrel on it. And when you get the barrel on 103 and get it elevated ... it's one of those unfortunate things."

And yet, I came across almost as many moans and groans about Chapman and his usage as there were about Holderman:

Once more, these are the guys. They're here. They're not about to be replaced, either on the roster or in their roles -- good luck, by the way, to anyone doubting Shelton's usage of the pen in this game if attempting to assign a name to who'd have replaced either -- and, in most cases, they're better players than to be judged hysterically in one direction or the other based on every isolated outcome that unfolds.

Deep breaths.

____________________ 

I don't intend to inflate what's online or over the air waves or even just in front of living-room TVs vs. what happens in the stadium. There's always been a colossal difference, and that'll never change. Being closer to the team means being closer to the team. No substitute for that. The same person spewing venom about Ortiz in one setting could be applauding him in another.

But there's at least a semi-happy medium somewhere in there, right?

A loss like this stinks. I could sense that in this silent, almost sullen clubhouse, and that makes sense. This was one of those opponents in the National League's airtight half-dozen from which only half will claim wild-card berths:

MLB.com

Shelton didn't balk when asked, on the second of August, if this felt like a pennant-race game.

"I don't think it's too early,” he'd reply. “You get in a situation with the team that's above you, a team we just played, a team that played in the World Series. They're really good. These games are important. That's why I was proud of our group for continuing to battle back. We've just got to finish that game."

It ain't easy now. And I'm tempted to say it won't get any easier. But the truth is, it actually can ... if everyone's on the same side.

• Apropos of absolutely nothing, I'd been bored enough by the third inning to snap the following pic:

DEJAN KOVACEVIC / DKPS

Our Downtown was over there flexing again, and it needed to be captured. We're great with sunsets smacking up against all the glass.

• Tons more over in our Pirates Feed. Always.

• Today's Site Stuff also happens to be about the Pirates.

• Thanks for reading my baseball coverage. I'll be back here for the series finale Sunday, with Skenes pitching, and José Negron will cover Saturday.

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