Francisco Lindor, baby powder, a text from his dad and a reason to ignore the standings
Zack Meisel 7h ago 2
As he stepped into the batter’s box in the bottom of the ninth — moments before he was stripped of his jersey and doused with baby powder — Francisco Lindor repeated his father’s message in his head.
Those words made the bout of déja vú more tolerable. Here he was, at the plate for the second consecutive night, with the game hanging on the barrel of his black and tan Marucci bat.
Less than 24 hours earlier, he watched a third strike sail past, forcing him to the shower, the fate of a long, soggy, unfulfilling night sealed. His father, Miguel — the man who struck grounder after grounder to Lindor in a cow-bordered field near their Puerto Rico home during the shortstop’s youth — delivered him some words of encouragement.
Don’t worry about it. Tomorrow is another day and God is good. God has a plan and good things will come.
Lindor thought about that text. Then he thought about again ending the game, this time with one, powerful swing. He deposited Trevor Hildenberger’s first offering, a 79.5-mph hanger on the outside part of the plate, a few rows deep in the right-field seats.
Lindor spent most of his home run trot signaling to the fans, raising both arms in the air. He chucked his helmet toward the dugout once he rounded third base. And then, the party commenced.
Yan Gomes yanked off Lindor’s jersey as if he were initiating a hockey fight. Carlos Carrasco shook a bottle of baby powder over Lindor’s head until his hair resembled its spring hue, a look that earned Lindor comparisons to platinum-topped celebrities Sisqo and Amber Rose.
A jolt of adrenaline and an inhaling of baby powder sapped the All-Star of his breath.
“I didn’t see it, otherwise I would have touched the plate and ran,” he said.
Some soaked the shortstop with cups of water (a singular cup in the case of Trevor Bauer, who carefully power-walked some Gatorade to the mosh pit at the plate). Gomes and Rajai Davis attempted to dump a cooler of yellow Gatorade on Lindor, though TV reporter Andre Knott received the brunt of the bone-chilling shower.
These sort of moments don’t tire. They can energize the most worn players, even during the ol’ dog days.
“When you’re in the regular season, it feels like (the) playoffs,” Lindor said. “The atmosphere, when everybody is going crazy, it feels like (the) playoffs.”
For the Indians, who own a 10-game lead in the league’s least competitive division, it’s a welcome reminder of what lies ahead. Those pressure-packed chess matches appear at every turn in October, not just in the ninth inning following a blown save.
“The more we play to our division lead, the worse we’re going to become in October,” said Mike Clevinger, who limited the Twins to one run across seven innings on Wednesday.
There’s no need to push the cruise control button and emerge from hibernation when September ends. The Indians have some kinks to iron out over the next two months. They have an outfield puzzle to complete, an Andrew Miller project to finish, a bullpen to assemble.
As they solve those roster riddles, the entities that have carried the Indians to the top of the AL Central continue to thrive. The rotation keeps churning out quality starts. Brad Hand has provided a sorely needed steady, umm, hand in the bullpen. And Lindor and José Ramírez refuse to slow their gaudy offensive paces.
It’s pretty customary by now. If there’s some action unfolding on the field, there’s a decent chance Lindor or Ramírez is involved. For Clevinger, it has reached a point in which, if No. 12 is not approaching the plate with the game on the line, he does a double take.
“Every time it’s a spot like this, he’s always hitting,” Clevinger said. “It’s like a sixth sense. You know it’s going to happen. Like, you look over on deck and you’re like, ‘Does he bat every time it’s a tie game?’ And then every time it seems like he’s coming through.”
It happened again on Wednesday night, and Lindor finally regained his breath once the baby powder settled. One night earlier, Fernando Rodney froze him with an inside fastball, leaving the tying run on second base.
That hurt. The mobbing at home plate the next night hurt, too. But he’ll gladly accept that sort of pain.
“Today, I purposely went out like, ‘Yes, I want to win this game,’ “ Lindor said. “Yesterday, it was like, ‘Just get something going. Get on base.’ And I couldn’t come through. It’s fun. It’s fun winning games. I love winning games. Whether I hit it or somebody else hits it, I’m going to celebrate the same way.
“Except, next time I’ll be the one with the powder.”