Teoscar Hernández was traded to Toronto exactly one lifetime ago.
If you’re keeping track you know that’s not true, but in the time of pandemics and general malaise, time is a strange construct.
So yes, it was one lifetime ago.
I can’t explain why I remember the day Hernández became a Blue Jay so vividly. I was sitting at my cubicle, an aged computer in front of me sputtering away as I built the newspaper for the week.
I was nearing the end of my time as a journalist, whether I wanted it to be true or not. As the newspaper came together, the final hours before the trade deadline ticked away. Headlines were stolen by Yu Darvish and his move from the Texas Rangers to the Los Angeles Dodgers, as well as Sonny Gray’s ill-fated move from the Oakland A’s to the New York Yankees. Farther down the deadline day roundup is the headline “Blue Jays trade Francisco Liriano to the Astros.”
As a Blue Jays fan, we were watching to see if then beloved starter Marcus Stroman would be traded (give it a year) as the team began their eventual rebuild. The vestiges of the 2015 and 2016 postseason teams weren’t going to get it done, as was becoming more clear by the day.
And so the team traded the ghost of Liriano for a pair of flyers, prospect outfielder Teoscar Hernández and light-hitting but dependable Nori Aoki.
I could feel myself clutching to baseball extra tight that day, using it the way anyone struggling hangs on to their vices. I knew my career in journalism was coming to an end. I didn’t know that I’d apply to a Masters of Education program on a whim just six months later, miraculously get in and change my career, but I did know I was finished.
In our darkest times, baseball is a life raft. We cling to the game, the way anyone clings to their vices in times of distress.
My baseball fandom had been strong for years, but as my career and personal life unraveled, I found baseball to be the only thing I looked forward to. I would study the schedule, doing whatever I could to make sure I was home each night by 7:07.
For a longtime, the only thing I wanted to be in life was a writer. I studied the greats: I wrote letters to Gay Talese and would rewrite the leads to Gary Smith’s best pieces. Working at a small newspaper squashed both my love of writing and, if I’m being honest, any abilities I might have had. Trying to condense my stories into their least interesting forms made the thing I loved into the thing I hated.
This newsletter has been my salvation, a return to writing on my own terms. For this, dear reader, I thank you. It took me a long time to regain the confidence to put writing back out into the world and, at times, I still struggle. But having loyal readers and friends to talk about baseball with has been a gift. I’m forever grateful.
A few weeks ago, my Blue Jays said goodbye to beloved outfielder Teoscar Hernández, a heavy-handed hitter with a quality bat and competent defending. And while Hernández had plenty of on-field moments in Toronto - none bigger than his two home-run performance in the Game 2 of the 2022 wildcard against the Mariners - what I’ll never forget about him is his smile.
As the Blue Jays became known as the most fun team in baseball, Hernández was at the forefront of the movement. His sunflower seed celebration became something fans looked forward to and as I reflect on his time in Toronto, I feel fortunate that we were able to watch such a vibrant young player go from fringe prospect to all-star in front of our eyes.
Sometimes the trades that make baseball sense hurt the most. I understand the move - Hernandez was due for a significant payday in the next few years and with our own franchise players to pay sooner than later (looking at you, Vlad), there wouldn't have been room to give him the deal he deserves - but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
We don’t fall in love with statlines. They’re part of the game, of course, but they aren’t why we love the sport. We fall in love with people and in the case of Teo, he wasn’t difficult to love.
If we’re looking for Solace, I’m able to take some in Seattle being his landing spot. Blue Jays fans may currently feel sore towards Seattle right now following a postseason loss (our own shortcoming, if we’re being honest) but the Mariners are one of the most likable teams in baseball and should provide Hernández a platform to ply his trade for years to come.
Good luck, Teo. I’m rooting for you.
I know I promised an off-season essay on each team, but quite honestly the pressure of such a series felt overwhelming and stifling. That might not be fair to you, dear reader, but it’s the honest truth. The series won’t be happening, but I will be back to writing regularly. A compromise, I suppose.
Talk soon, friends.
Great stuff! Keep it up