Angell, Gammons, and I rode the elevator up, the tension palpable as we approached the Boston clubhouse, where a throng of reporters gathered ominously around Buckner’s locker, their anticipation almost electric. Cruel jokes were already being concocted, one particularly biting quip circulating among the journalists: (Question: What do Bill Buckner and Michael Jackson have in common? Answer: They both wear a glove for no apparent reason.) As if on cue, Buckner emerged, barely covering himself in a towel, limping from the lingering steam of the shower. The reporters surged forward like a wave crashing onto the shore, encircling him at the center of the clubhouse, inundating him with relentless questions. Astonishingly, nobody from the Red Sox hinted at the possibility that the pitchers, too, should share the blame for the unfolding drama. Buckner found himself standing there, vulnerable and exposed, forced to account for the split-second mistake that would cast a long shadow over his otherwise admirable career.
It truly was an astonishing scene to witness. Buckner remained stoic and patient, addressing the barrage of questions with remarkable composure until every inquisitor was finally placated. After that grueling session, he returned to his hotel room, where he received a heartening call from Reggie Jackson. When he arrived back at the ballpark two days later, he faced the moment head-on, achieving a hit in his very first at-bat during Game Seven. It was a game dominated by the Mets, who ultimately triumphed, harnessing a sixth-inning comeback that was spearheaded by Hernandez. “I got a hit. Drove in two runs. That was pressure. Not enjoyable,” Buckner reflected later. Frank Viola, a Minnesota Twins pitcher who had grown up just twenty miles from Shea Stadium, remained in touch with Buckner in the years leading up to his passing in 2019. “He took a lot of crap,” Viola shared with me. “He lived with it. Such a proud guy, too. Everybody was watching. It was devastating.”
The Hall of Fame pitcher Stanley Coveleski, a key player for Cleveland in their 1920 World Series victory, once astutely remarked about his career: “You worry all the time. It never ends. Lord, baseball is a worrying thing.” The burden of such incessant anxiety remains integral to the game today. However, among present-day players, Juan Soto’s refreshing candor and exuberance stand out, primarily due to their rarity. The average modern player often comes across as a solitary figure, emerging only to dispense bland platitudes about living in the moment and taking things one game at a time. This language often feels dulled and washed out, a mere veneer meant to mask the anxiety that grips each player, forcing them to devise routine methods to quell the unease over the possibility of becoming the next target of public derision.
Consider the agile, multifaceted slugger Mookie Betts of the Dodgers, who frequently retreats to quiet inner-stadium rooms to hone his focus. (This retreat is particularly necessary at places like Yankee Stadium, a cacophony of metal, concrete, and plastic that envelops players with a roaring crowd’s mix of fierce energy and garish, constant distractions akin to Times Square.) Betts epitomizes a Zen-like approach to the game. After notching four hits and driving in fours runs during a pivotal Game Four victory over the Mets, he demonstrated remarkable composure, merely shrugging off the spotlight with, “Today worked, but tomorrow’s a new day.” He distilled baseball into its essence, stating, “It’s just a lot of work,” reflecting the ongoing commitment required to excel. Gerrit Cole, the ace of the Yankees, commands respect among peers, such as Carlos Rodón, for his mechanical demeanor on the mound, moving with precision and calm even amidst chaos. On particularly brisk late afternoons, Dodgers pitcher Michael Kopech takes to the outfield perimeter wearing shorts and bare feet, engaging in a “grounding” activity known as “earthing.” “I’m very strict with myself, how I go about the day,” Kopech shared. “We all find our peace out here.”
Baseball is now subject to intensive scrutiny by team analytics departments, and the Dodgers stand out as one of the most assiduous clubs, expertly delving into the complexities of the inner game. Their organizational structure is equipped with directors specializing in baseball strategy, performance science, systems applications, cultural development, quantitative analysis, and integrative baseball performance. “It’s a massive operation,” Andrew Friedman, the team’s president of baseball operations, disclosed to the Los Angeles Times. This precision in selecting effective players and optimizing their performance explains how a team riddled with injuries has still managed to advance to the World Series. The Dodgers are reputedly the leaders in league meetings; analytics advisors maintain a close dialogue with scouts, and players like Betts routinely discuss adhering to a structured daily plan.
This level of meticulous preparation represents one of many strategies players adopt to wrest control from the defining anxieties of baseball. Conversely, the Guardians, the youngest of the four competing teams, were notably haunted by uncertainty. Twenty-four-year-old reliever Joey Cantillo made history by throwing four wild pitches in one inning, while twenty-three-year-old shortstop Brayan Rocchio committed three pivotal errors across five games, one of which included a rare dropped pop-up—a sight seldom witnessed on a major-league diamond. In the aftermath of these missteps, I heard few revelations from players, mirroring Gaddis’s responses post-Soto. This reminded me of the legendary Game One moment in the 1988 World Series, when Hall of Fame reliever Dennis Eckersley of the Oakland Athletics allowed a walk-off home run on an off-speed pitch to Kirk Gibson of the Dodgers. I witnessed another extraordinary instance of self-possession while observing the clubhouse aftermath.
That scene was “wild,” Eckersley recounted. “All these guys around my locker. It was insanity. I was in such a funk. I just took it on. What are you gonna say? ‘I’m not talking’? No! I just gave up one of the biggest homers in World Series history. I was there forever, the last guy to leave that locker room.” Facing his moment of mortification, Eckersley recounted that confronting it is “one of my proudest moments.” Even years later, he frequently volunteers with a wry sense of humor, “Should have thrown Gibby a fastball!”
The Mets, it should be noted, were the only team among the four finalists this year that emanated an unmistakable joy in what is essentially a game. They may boast the largest payroll in baseball, but they carry an underdog aura. First baseman Pete Alonso kept a lucky “playoff pumpkin,” which he purchased from a Wisconsin patch during their victorious first round against the Milwaukee Brewers. The atmosphere was vibrant with their lively energy, referred to as buena onda, highlighted by the second baseman Jose Iglesias’s catchy hit “OMG.” Many Mets players donned “OMG” ski hats, adding to the festive morale. The team’s electrifying shortstop, Francisco Lindor—acquired from Cleveland for a staggering three hundred forty-one million dollars—is further cherished for his uplifting, sunny personality. His contagious smile has earned him the nickname Mr. Smile; had he not pursued a career in baseball, he mused that dentistry would have been his chosen profession.
While the Mets embraced an endearing charm, the Dodgers managed to turn them into a pumpkin by maintaining their composure on the field, expertly working counts, drawing walks, and with Ohtani and Betts relentless at the helm. In the ongoing quest for the World Series trophy, the significance of superstars cannot be overstated; the Yankees and Dodgers consistently allocate greater resources to attract them. The greater the talent, the more imperative it becomes to cultivate emotional detachment. As a rookie in 2017, Aaron Judge lived in the heart of Times Square until his teammate Brett Gardner came to his rescue, offering him refuge in the serene Westchester County hamlet of Armonk. When the soft-spoken Judge articulates his perspective on the game, his commitment to achieving an inner tranquility shines through. Given that “everything’s important” in this “humbling game” characterized by unpredictable “ups and downs,” maintaining a light-hearted demeanor and keeping a “short memory” is key. He philosophically commented, “Everything else, you just kind of ignore.”
One possibility is that Ohtani remains ensconced within the insulated world of baseball. During a brief public interview following the N.L.C.S. Game Four, he donned a lavish bronze Boss sweatshirt, ample enough to act as a topsail, while striking a tone of measured succinctness regarding his playoff experiences. “I’m grateful to be able to play in this playoff environment,” he stated. His consistent approach, he elaborated, remains unchanged: “I’m really just focused on playing a good game tomorrow.” As he listened to English-speaking questions, Ohtani nodded attentively, suggesting a deeper understanding than he might verbally communicate. In an earlier exchange, when asked if he felt nervous ahead of his first postseason appearance, Ohtani immediately replied in English—“Nope!” Despite this, it seems there exists a complexity within him that we may never fully grasp.
Even with its notable transformations—the enigmatic players and the implementation of pitching and batting clocks aimed at expediting games—baseball retains an eternal quality. “I always viewed baseball as the game of life,” Joe Torre, who led the Yankees to four World Series titles as their manager, shared. “People can relate to us more than in other sports. It’s not the adrenaline-fueled excitement of the Super Bowl, where every yard matters; it carries with it a certain captivating charm.” This reflection echoed anew before A.L.C.S. Game Two, when I struck up a conversation with Steven Kwan, an outstanding young left fielder for Cleveland, standing beside the Guardians dugout on a cold, blustery evening. Kwan began to articulate the seasonal adjustments he needed to make for this summer sport. “The breeze is unexpected, and on Judge and Stanton fly balls I have to be right under them,” he noted. “I can’t drift. It’s my first year wearing contacts, and with the weather like this, I blink a lot.” As he shared these insights, I felt a thrill when someone enhances my understanding of something I’ve treasured all my life. Yet Kwan continued, mentioning a silver lining amidst the challenging conditions: “With the wind slashing through my ears,” he remarked, “the jabs and jeers get lost.”
Interview with Baseball Analyst Jennifer Larkins on Pressure in Major League Baseball
Editor: Today, we have Jennifer Larkins with us, an esteemed baseball analyst who has been following the game for over fifteen years. Jennifer, thank you for joining us.
Jennifer Larkins: It’s my pleasure. Thanks for having me!
Editor: The recent report about Bill Buckner’s encounter with the media after the infamous ’86 World Series moment resonates deeply in baseball culture. What does this tell us about how players handle pressure and public scrutiny?
Jennifer Larkins: Buckner’s experience is a perfect illustration of the intense pressure players face, especially after a high-profile error. He remained poised, but that kind of scrutiny can weigh heavily on anyone. It reminds us that players are not just athletes; they’re human beings navigating public perception and personal expectations.
Editor: Absolutely. Shifting gears a bit, the piece also highlights how today’s athletes, like Mookie Betts and Gerrit Cole, have their own strategies to cope with pressure. What do you think has changed in the way players manage their mental game?
Jennifer Larkins: There’s a noticeable shift towards mental health awareness and proactive strategies. Today’s players often incorporate mindfulness practices, routine preparations, and even analytics to manage the pressures they face. Betts, for example, finding quiet spaces in chaotic environments is a practical approach to maintaining focus.
Editor: You mentioned analytics departments in teams like the Dodgers. How significant is the role of data analytics in helping players manage their performance and anxiety?
Jennifer Larkins: Data analytics play a crucial role. They not only inform players about their strengths and weaknesses but also help in developing personalized strategies that can mitigate performance anxiety. The more a player understands their game, the more control they feel, which ultimately eases those pressures.
Editor: The Mets have a lighter, more playful atmosphere compared to others. Do you think camaraderie and a positive team culture can provide relief from the intense scrutiny athletes face?
Jennifer Larkins: Absolutely. A supportive and enjoyable team environment can act as a buffer against the pressures of the game. When players are relaxed and enjoying themselves, it fosters confidence and resilience, which is vital when the stakes are high.
Editor: what advice would you give to young players aspiring to succeed in such a high-pressure environment?
Jennifer Larkins: I would advise them to build a strong foundation in mental fortitude early on. Embrace the pressure but don’t let it define you. Find what helps you stay grounded, be it routines, positive affirmations, or supportive teammates. And, remember, it’s a game at the end of the day—enjoy it!
Editor: Wise words, Jennifer. Thank you for your insights into the ever-evolving world of baseball and the pressures that come with it.
Jennifer Larkins: Thank you for having me! It’s always a pleasure to discuss the game.
Dodgers, for example, have a comprehensive approach that includes quantitative analysis, which allows players to feel more in control of their game and the external pressures they encounter.
Editor: With such a spotlight on performance, how do you see the balance between a player’s emotional well-being and public expectations evolving in the future?
Jennifer Larkins: I think we’re moving in a positive direction. There’s a growing understanding that mental health is just as important as physical health in sports. As society becomes more open about mental health topics, I believe that we’ll see more players advocating for mental wellness and even discussing their own struggles. This transparency can foster a more supportive environment, benefiting both the players and their fans.
Editor: That’s a hopeful perspective. Lastly, do you think the joyful approach of teams like the Mets, despite their significant challenges, can influence how players perceive pressure?
Jennifer Larkins: Definitely. Teams with positive, fun atmospheres can create a buffer against the immense pressures of the game. Players like Francisco Lindor, whose smiles and optimism are infectious, can inspire their teammates to approach the game with joy rather than just fear of failure. This shift can change the entire dynamic within a team and encourage a healthier outlook on performance and pressure.
Editor: Thanks, Jennifer, for sharing your insights on the evolving landscape of mental health and performance in baseball. It’s clear that both players and fans have much to learn from these experiences.
Jennifer Larkins: Thank you for having me! It’s been a pleasure discussing this critical aspect of the game.
