Bautista's big league career began with the kind of indignity few players suffer. At age 19, in 2000, he was a 20th round draft pick of the Pittsburgh Pirates. He didn't sign a contract until May of the following year, and so by the end of 2003 had completed three seasons of pro ball. Under the rules at that time, this meant that he would either need to be added to the Pirates' 40-man roster or left exposed to selection in the Rule Five draft.Pittsburgh chose not to put him on their 40-man, and thus began Bautista's crude introduction to the cruelties of MLB's economic system. Despite having yet to reach Double-A, and with only 51 games at High-A, Bautista was taken in the Rule Five draft by the Baltimore Orioles.Jays fans will remember from the cases of Joe Biagini in 2016 and Glenn Sparkman this season that Rule Five players must remain on the club that selected them for a full year in order to become "property" of that organization. If the team tries to remove the player from their big league roster, they must first offer him back to the team he was selected from.Bautista's Orioles career lasted 16 games and just 12 plate appearances.
The Pirates didn't take him back, so Baltimore tried to assign him to the minors—but to do that they first had to put him on waivers. In June 2004, he was claimed by the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. His Rays career lasted 12 games and 15 plate appearances, before he was dealt (for cash) at the end of June to the Royals, who needed a quick replacement for injured third baseman Joe Randa.
For the following unpopular question, blame Major League Baseball and all the nonsense it has spewed over the past decade.
Don't blame me.
When it comes to Jose Bautista, how is it exactly that at the age of 29 he's suddenly become the most dangerous power hitter in baseball?
The date was August 10, 2010, late in Bautista's breakout 54 home run campaign, and the writer preemptively claiming innocence was Damien Cox of the Toronto Star.The piece is no longer available on the Star's website, but you can see it via the Wayback Machine, still dripping with all the original sarcasm and condescension. It became infamous partly because of Cox's pompous insistence that "you've got to at least ask the question," but that was far from the worst part.He brought up the story of Brady Anderson, who raised steroid-era eyebrows with an out-of-nowhere 50 home run season in 1996. He called the Blue Jays "a nest for alleged steroid abusers over the years." He suggested money as a motive. He tried to assert his authority as a truth-teller on the subject by talking about receiving "bushels of bitter emails from baseball fans when questioning Mark McGwire's open use of androstenedione back when he was smashing Roger Maris' record." And he scoffingly punctuated it throughout with comments like, "Really? Quite a story, huh?"Innocently just "asking the question" it was not. But Cox was far from alone in ignoring the mechanical changes that unlocked Bautista's greatness and trying to obtusely shoehorn him into a lazy PED narrative. And it wasn't just the bloggers and the blowhards.Chance? Healthy living? Diet? New contact lenses? Comfortable batting gloves?
After two years of passing tests and proving naysayers wrong, by 2013, Bautista had cemented himself as one of the game's truly elite hitters. He had finished fourth and third in American League MVP voting in 2010 and 2011, would that year play in his fourth straight All-Star Game, and start his third straight. Roy Halladay was long gone. Jose was the face of the Blue Jays.But by then he had developed "a reputation." A master of the strike zone, with the eye of a watchmaker, Bautista didn't hide it well when umpires disagreed with what his instincts told him. In fact, he had no intention of hiding from his feelings—not on the field, and certainly not when confronted about incidents by media after the fact.On Opening Day 2013, Bautista was as demonstrative as ever with umpire Jeff Nelson, causing a rush of hot takes from writers and talking heads who, with the season just underway, had nothing so juicy to yammer on about as the Blue Jays' star slugger and his supposedly unbefitting conduct. Absurd as it might be—insulting to umpires, whose job it is to be impartial, as it might be—it's not difficult to get fans riled up about the notion of a player undermining his club's success, and his own, by getting on the wrong side of the men in blue. Bautista, though, was always magnificently unapologetic about it.
Here's what I saw: that, where the leadership went from being positive to being negative. And then that negative attitude—especially with umpires, and his continual complaining, and giving up at-bats. And one time, with a runner at first base and one out, hitting a fly ball to right field, and he turned and walked back to the third base dugout. What is going on here??
The fact that Bautista wasn't with the club for the final month and a half should have maybe told Jerry something about why he may not have sprinted his hardest on every single fly out (Bautista suffered with back and achilles issues over the course of the year, before being shut down in mid-August with a hip problem), but such was the conversation at the time. And while I don't think it's at all unfair to wonder if there were sometimes other factors involved in all this, too—would he have taken as much shit had his name been Johnson or Smith?—Jose never could quite make it easy on himself.Here's what happened: Jose Reyes, a good kid, a four-time All-Star, he started to complain about the umpiring because of who? Jose Bautista. When Bautista wasn't there, the last month-and-a-half, that allowed Jose Reyes and Edwin Encarnacion to emerge as leaders. That's what you want in 2014. And if Bautista can give you something—a piece that you don't have right now—do it, because the other leaders are in place, and all they need is that opening to take and run with it, and I can see them doing that.
The Jays didn't trade Bautista after 2013, like Howarth had wanted, and Jose responded to that era of taking shit the way he responded to all the other shit he took in his career: by hitting dingers. Thirty-five of them in 2014, to be precise. And 40 more in 2015.He still had his run-ins with umpires, and the occasional blow-up on the field. The Orioles were at the centre of a lot of it. He had his battles with O'Day, and won. Another O's reliever, Jason Garcia, threw behind him in April 2015, and Bautista promptly went yard two pitches later, getting flak from Baltimore players for admiring his home run. He jawed with Adam Jones, and then hurt his shoulder trying to throw out Delmon Young at first base, from right field. What was once a cannon of an arm would never look the same again, but Bautista was having none of the Orioles' trash."The only thing I heard was [Jones] saying that was bush league or something," Bautista told reporters at the time. "What was bush league was throwing behind me."But, of course, the defining moment of Bautista's 2015—not to mention the Blue Jays' 2015, Bautista's career as a whole, the entire 2015 baseball season as a whole, and the last 20-odd years of Blue Jays baseball—came in the seventh inning of the winner-take-all contest against the Rangers in Game 5 of the ALDS. The Rangers had gone up 3-2 in the top half of the frame on a bizarre play. The jam-packed Rogers Centre filled with anger and menace. But after a comedy of Texas errors allowed the tying run to score in the bottom half of the inning, with two on and two out, Bautista hit the release valve. A monumental blast off Sam Dyson. An emphatic bat flip. Pandemonium.
The essay was just about as on-point and perfectly timed as the bat flip itself. And, also like that moment, is made more poignant by all the personal and cultural history that comes along with it. Bautista can be both cerebral and emotional, menacing and exuberant, incredibly disciplined and out of control. There is a genuine and complicated humanity to him in that way that we're not always fortunate enough to get to see in our favourite athletes, and in the essay it comes across—all of it.This was, by no means, the end of Jose Bautista taking shit, nor the end of his handling it with grace and composure. The baseball world got giddy in 2016 after Rougned Odor's right cross to Bautista's jaw. Few batted an eye when Orioles GM Dan Duquette, just months after the Yankees handed Aroldis Chapman an $86 million contract, had the audacity to suggest that O's fans wouldn't like Bautista—then doubled down on those comments by saying they'd prefer a more "gritty," "working-class-type." Few seemed to find curious the lack of a market last winter for a slugger so recently valuable, as Jose lingered in free agency until the end of January.Unfortunately, his on-field response this season hasn't been of the quality that we've grown accustomed to. The clock is ticking on Jose Bautista, and when the time comes for him to go, it will be a loss for the Blue Jays and baseball. Yes, he was a great player, a great talent, a great story, but he was also a unique player and a fascinating player. Always in his own way, he's been of the game's great characters—or, to some, one of its great villains. But he hasn't let that negativity define him, nor do I think we should. It is shameful and, frankly, uncomfortable to think that he took as much shit as he did for as long as he did, but to his eternal credit he's left us all better for it.It's OK for baseball to be fun, frustrating, joyful, intense, and every emotion in between. Few players have shown us that so absolutely clearly while playing as spectacularly as Jose Bautista did. Few players have seemed to understand their craft, and themselves, so well, and fewer still have been able to use that to hold up a mirror to those of us in the crowd and the media. As he plays out his final days here in Toronto, don't be afraid to show the kind of emotion he deserves. Don't miss your chance to celebrate him with all the passion he insisted on playing with. Because what we've watched these last 10 seasons has been very, very special. Joey Bats is a badass and has consistently taken all the shit he's dealt with like a champion.I flipped my bat. I'm human. The emotion got to me. It's in my DNA. If you think that makes me a jerk, that's fine. But let's call it what it is. Let's not have these loaded conversations about "character" and the integrity of the game every time certain players show emotion in a big moment. That kind of thinking is not just old school. It's just ignorant.