Little Big Man

When Jose Altuve connected off of Aroldis Chapman Saturday night, you just knew it was gone.  So did Altuve, who paused a fraction of a second to watch the path of the ball before breaking into a semi-sprint around the bases.

But it was just a fraction of a second.  Altuve didn’t channel Tim Anderson or Javy Baez or Willaon Contreras, and why would he?  All those worthies are sitting in front of the television at home, their seasons over long ago.  So much bat flipping and standing at the plate to admire a drive, so little payoff. 

In yesterday’s The Athletic, Ken Rosenthal wrote that Altuve “epitomizes all that is good about the game, performing with boundless, infectious energy, displaying an endearing combination of humility and humanity, [and] proving smaller players can succeed.”  Only a fool would need to see proof of the last.

Between the lines, Rosenthal is saying Altuve is old-school in all the right ways.  By way of comparison, think Pete Rose, a busher in the classic sense of the word if there ever was one.  I don’t like Rosenthal’s taste in neckwear, but he’s spot-on about a compact player epitomizing all that baseball should want to be.