What’s with all the fuss in Jays land over Brett Lawrie acting like a petulant child?
It’s almost as if folks are surprised or something.
We are talking about the same Brett Lawrie that threw a helmet at an umpire, right? The same Lawrie that was a former star prospect on the Edward Fortyhands circuit. The same Lawrie that was so intense after a headfirst slide into home he made an on-deck Jose Bautista shrink in fear of a celebratory punch.
Seems to me that if we’re talking about that Lawrie then we should realize snap, unfiltered emotional responses are par for the course.
Some players are exemplary locker room statesmen, Glue Guys, they’re called. They can set a positive tone for the team by the noble way they carry themselves.
Lawrie will probably never be one of those guys.
He’s energy. A spark, a fire, a screaming battle cry. He’s not an ambassador of perfect sportsmanship.
That’s okay, he doesn’t have to be. He just has to do his job, which is the real issue here: he’s not. He’s hurt and hitting under the Mendoza line. And nothing brings scrutiny on a player’s, well, everything, faster than bad play.
By now Brett Lawrie has probably heard from teammate, fan, and coach alike that he needs to check himself himself before he wrecks himself. But that’s all he’ll hear, because it’s all they can tell him.
They’ll never give him tools for handling or understanding his emotions, just a set of rights and wrongs that greatness is supposed to live up too. Players, fans, and coaches are not psychologists, they may have advice and opinions, but they don’t always have answers.
That makes the whole “living up to greatness” part a very difficult process since a) there is no right way to do it, b) it often requires you to tune others comments and opinions out, and c) hinges on great play, even though there is no mindset by which to sustain it.
That’s the rub in baseball, the double edged sword: performance justifies all sorts of behaviors, while a lack of it condemns them. You can pop off and drip with swagger as long as you’re getting things done. Fail and you become a pariah.
Ironically what many people call “playing the game the right way” is actually just keeping the masses comfortably thinking you’re not selfish. The truth is professional baseball is a very selfish undertaking. All players are selfish. Some just happen to be better at coming off less selfish than others, and they are generally branded classy players even though they get no less mad at the world when they blow it.
In order to maintain this balance, they constantly have to think about what others want to hear and see. But what happens when your game hinges on not caring what other people want? Don’t tell me guys like that don’t last long because baseball is full of examples to the opposite. And don’t tell me you don’t wish some guys could care less about the opinions of others (cough, cough, Romero…).
A couple of days ago a reporter came up and asked me if there was something wrong with Brett. “He’s running on a different gear than the rest of us, know what I mean?” He then twirled a finger around his ear as if to imply mental instability.
I laughed, then considered the source. What is mental instability in sport that builds heroes on the foundation of results as linked to the tumbling of a little white ball?
Most professional athletes are running on gears different than your average man. They’re more intense, more aggressive, more competitive, even more primal. Those traits make it possible for professional players to achieve and maintain big league success. None of this should surprise when it comes bubbling out.
There are some occupations in life that lend themselves to certain personality types. It’s only when those personalities are put in exposing scenarios that we think they’re abnormal. Sports make a great fit for hyper intense personalities, but pro-sports on the biggest stage with all it’s cameras has a nasty tendency to catch those who aren’t “wound like us normal folks” and distort them—especially when they fail.
Brett Lawrie’s personality helps make him successful. Sure, It’s going to expose him and tarnish his media presence from time to time. It may even make him look classless. But I’m not asking him to be a Glue Guy, I’m just asking him to hit.
His teammates know who he is, and they’re fine with him. Would he draw less fire from folks outside the locker room if he clammed up until his production improved? Probably. But how much of his rambunctious personality is him playing the game the way he knows—the way that got him where he is? Intense, primal, unfiltered…
A player can only change so much. At the end of the day he either fits or he doesn’t. Brett Lawrie fits with this club. He may not be playing well at the moment, but he’s far from a tired act. And even if he was, I’m glad he doesn’t give a rip about what we think… as long as that means, in the end, he’ll play his heart out to back it up.