Sympathy for Zack Greinke
I was very happy to see the Washington Nationals win the World Series last night. This was for several reasons- though I had no connection myself to either team- my mother and several friends had adopted the team from their respective times living in D.C.- in my mother’s case, she even got to throw out the first pitch at Nationals Park. In addition, this year’s Nationals team seemed as easy to root for as any team that was not my own San Francisco Giants.
One of my favorite narratives in sports is when an elite player or team, often maligned as “not clutch” or “unable to win in the postseason” after great regular seasons never rewarded with a championship, finds redemption. This was the case when I rooted for Peyton Manning to win his first and even second Super Bowls despite not being a Colts or Broncos fan, and, although I would never outright be happy for a Dodgers team winning a World Series, I would be unashamedly happy for Clayton Kershaw dispelling his own legacy of postseason failure with a World Series ring. The Nationals, who had failed to advance even a single round in baseball’s playoffs four times this decade, were prime candidates for this redemption narrative. And yet, as the Nationals celebrated and the defeated Houston Astros were forced to endure the agony of defeat, my heart went out to one member of Houston’s club in particular, someone who was in search of his own kind of redemption narrative that will have to wait for another October, if it ever arrives.
Of all of the many professional athletes I have followed over the years, I find few as relatable as Zack Greinke. Greinke, on the surface, does not seem to be such a relatable person- he is known for being uniquely taciturn and blunt, to the point of awkwardness, during interactions with fans and media. However, Greinke’s bluntness makes him paradoxically unique and interesting, standing out in a sports landscape where nearly every athlete’s setting in their public persona seems to be tuned to the same degree of “blandly affable.”
Furthermore, Greinke’s past as a tennis prodigy, which he abandoned in order to pursue baseball, is something an obsessive tennis player and fan such as myself could only help but find relatable. And while World of Warcraft may have never been my cup of tea in high school (though it was for many of my friends) I do appreciate the fact that someone like Greinke can rise to the top of his sport while having such idiosyncratic pursuits.
Finally, while the Astros as a team are not candidates for the aforementioned redemption narrative, Greinke himself is. Unlike most of his teammates, Greinke was not a part of the Astros team that took home the World Series in 2017. His own history in the postseason has been far from stellar- he was a key part of several of the Los Angeles Dodgers’ seven division title winning teams this decade that failed to win a title, and his postseason earned run average prior to this year was a pedestrian 4.58. During this year’s playoffs, he was unspectacular, though he did just enough to allow his team to win his one start in the American League Championship Series and his previous start in the World Series. Greinke has been diagnosed with social anxiety disorder and depression, and, while never said out loud, whispers that that prevented him from performing in the postseason have lingered for Greinke’s entire career. But for the first two thirds of Game 7, all of that seemed to melt away.
Although I have never been diagnosed, I have certainly struggled with unhealthy levels of anxiety at times in my life, even to the point of having had panic attacks in the past. If I had had to do what Greinke was asked to do on that mound in Houston, I likely would have done so again, even if I had won a Cy Young Award like he has. But Greinke was more than up to the task. Through six innings he held the Nationals’ potent offense scoreless, allowing only a single hit, preserving Houston’s 2–0 lead. Play by play announcer Joe Buck was absolutely correct in describing it as “the start of his life.”
Alas, Greinke was unable to finish what he had started. With one out in the seventh inning, he made his first mistake of the night, a changeup down the middle of the plate to star Nationals third baseman Anthony Rendon. Rendon turned on it and sent it straight out of the park. Greinke might yet have rallied to finish the inning. But Astros manager A.J. Hinch had other ideas, pulling him from the game to go to his bullpen, which promptly surrendered the remainder of Houston’s one-run lead and then some. It was a questionable call, one that many in the media are now questioning in the wake of Houston’s defeat. Would Greinke have been able to hold the lead? If there was ever a night where he could have, that might have been it.
Even though Greinke is thirty-six years old (which is up there in years for an MLB pitcher), his career seems to be far from over. Despite not being able to throw his fastball up to ninety-five miles per hour like he used to, he was still one of the best pitchers in baseball this year, and has two more years on his current contract. The Astros figure to be a powerhouse club once again next year, and will likely be in the World Series hunt a year from now as well, with Greinke in tow. I sincerely hope that he gets the chance at putting on an encore to last night’s performance. Either way, when all is said and done, his career certainly merits induction into baseball’s Hall of Fame, where his induction speech is sure to be, in classic Greinke fashion, short and to the point. But even so, I do hope that he, too, gets one more chance at doing what the Nationals did this year and writing himself an October redemption narrative.
