Winds of Fortune: The Hero the Jays Needed in Game 3, and the Heroism His Birthplace Needs Now

Freddie Freeman said, after the game, that his swings kept getting better as Game 3 of the World Series progressed. That, indeed, is how it felt. Finally, in the 18th inning, he caught hold of one well enough that not even the cooling, damp air of Chavez Ravine could knock it down. Dodger Stadium wasn't going to hold Freeman's drive by itself. Daulton Varsho would have to put on his cape and go flying.

That's not a fair thing to ask of Versho—not ever, and certainly not in hour seven of a game that had drawn everything each of its participants had already. Varsho is such a fire hydrant of a man, such a mesomorphic wonder, that all his best heroics on balls hit to the wall stem from his willingness—sometimes, even, his eagerness—to run right through it. He isn't built, either in dimension or in functionality, for scaling fences and high-pointing baseballs. He's a running back out there; this play needed a wide receiver. Much of the time, you're just as happy to have the former as the latter. At the most important moment of the last three decades for the Blue Jays, alas, it mattered a great deal that they had a short king instead of a high flyer.

Even so, there's some version of Varsho who might make that play. The ball was up in the air forever, and it fell (on a very steep arc) just beyond the barrier. The camera angles offered by the TV broadcast of the play are unhelpful in seeing how close he could have come to the ball, but the 3D Statcast visualization of the play can fill in that gap.

You can see the full trajectory of the ball's flight, in yellow, and the white ball near the end of its tracked arc, just above and beyond the wall. You can also see, planted deep in the wall, the digital avatar of Varsho, who didn't lack speed or gusto as he raced back and leaped. Unfortunately, he's nowhere near the ball—not because he couldn't have been, but because he got to the wall too soon, jumped into it too flat, and was already on his way down by the time the ball got to its would-be rendezvous point with him.

If Varsho had only known that he had some extra time, he could have taken a better angle and used the wall to propel him upward, slightly. He could have reached the ball. It just would have required a less feral, fresher Varsho—because it would have taxed his body to the edge of its capacity.

Poignantly—almost excruciatingly—the player this play begged for is one Jays fans know just as well as Varsho, or better: the guy who manned center field the last time they were on this stage.

Devon Whyte (he uses the original spelling of his surname now) was almost surely watching, despite the lateness of the hour and the depth of the game. He works for the Jays, after all. The roots run deep, and will bond player and team to one another forever. Whyte was the graceful, time-and-leap-and-lean athletic genius that fly ball needed. Alas, he has already rendered his heroics to the city of Toronto and its fans. Besides, tragically, Whyte's attention is surely somewhat divided this week.

Just a few hours after the game that wouldn't end finally did, with Varsho slumped and spent against the wall in Los Angeles, Hurricane Melissa made landfall in Jamaica, where Whyte was born in 1962. In MLB history, there are only two truly great natives of Jamaica: Whyte and Chili Davis, but they were excellent ambassadors. Now, one of the most powerful storms ever to hit the island is plowing over its famous beaches and gorgeous mountains. 

Whyte moved to New York City when he was a kid; Davis moved to Los Angeles. Jamaica itself has little baseball infrastructure to offer athletes who want to pursue that sport. If they want a bat-and-ball game, there, kids end up playing cricket. Like Panamanian Hall of Famer Rod Carew, Whyte and Davis found baseball a good way to assimilate in their new homes, and they're as much American as they are Jamaican. 

Nonetheless, as Jays fans mourn the wonderful game that ended in heartbreak, it's a good occasion to pause and put things in perspective. Eventually, Game 3 had to end; it felt increasingly like the Dodgers would be the ones to break through over the previous several innings. Varsho made a great running catch to end the 15th, or else the 18th never even would have come. There's no need to lament, for more than these few hours, that Varsho (and not some taller, wall-climbing type of defensive whiz) was there at the wall when the game finally came down to the space just above it. It is, however, a nice chance to reminisce about the very different fielding genius of Whyte, and the heroics he delivered for the back-to-back Series winners in 1992 and 1993. Sadly, it's also a good moment to be thankful for what an immigrant to North America gave to its great pastime, and to think hard about how to pitch in as the place whence he came faces an existential threat.

If you would like to donate to the aid effort that will be required in the wake of Hurricane Melissa's assault on Jamaica, consider Direct Relief, an A+-rated charity at Charity Watch with experience in storm relief in the Caribbean. They've already mobilized; find out more here.