El Profe: The Miami Marlins’ ‘What If’

Students can ask the most poignant questions, questions that can put professors in an awkward position. That is what occurred in my Sport & Society class this semester as spring training neared.

We were completing our discussion of current events in sports. We had covered issues that concerned racial dynamics, cultural views and the political climate, events such as the NFL players’ protest, the NCAA basketball recruiting scandal and the return of the New York Yankees as the ‘evil empire.’

Emboldened perhaps by having a baseball historian as his professor, one student asked: Do you think the Miami Marlins would have traded all their stars away if José Fernández hadn’t died in the boat crash?

Here to Talk about the Past

Historians are trained not to speculate. Not to engage in the hypothetical. Not to contemplate the “what ifs” of the past to speculate on what the future holds, or on what our present would be like.

Historians examine evidence from the past. We study documents in archives, read newspapers and other print sources contemporary to the events under examination, and interview individuals who were participants or witness to the moment. Part of the historian’s task is to offer an interpretation of what caused the changes over time, which individuals had an impact on that change, and the broader social, economic and political factors that influenced what happened.

Much of this has little to do with speculation. We interpret based on sources, evidence and knowledge of the past.

But that student’s question lingers, and raises others.

How would the future of the Marlins franchise been different if not for the event of Sept. 25, 2016? Would the Marlins have traded their marquee star, Giancarlo Stanton, to the Yankees? Or their all-star outfielders Marcell Ozuna and Christian Yelich to the St. Louis Cardinals and Milwaukee Brewers, respectively? Would the Marlins have traded Fernández himself?

Already a two-time all-star, the charismatic Fernández would have become arbitration eligible in 2017. The Cuban-born, Florida-raised ace was the closest the Marlins had come to a native son. His smile and personality had made him the face of the Marlins franchise. For that there would have been either a big payday or management making the hard choice to trade him to a contender for a high return in talent.

What position would the Marlins franchise have been in had José Fernández made better decisions? Let someone else drive the boat on that September night? Or had not gone out at all that evening to enjoy the ocean and the Miami night sky in the company of friends?

The Magic of 16

I witnessed firsthand the magical charisma of José Fernández on July 29, 2016. The Society of American Baseball Research’s conference that year was held in Miami. The conference lineup included an afternoon of sessions at Marlins Park. Hall of Famer Tony Pérez was interviewed by his son Eduardo Pérez. Hitting coach Barry Bonds held a session, as did Marlins manager Don Mattingly, along with other team officials. But the highlight for most in attendance was the possibility of Miami outfielder and slugger extraordinaire Ichiro Suzuki getting his 3,000th major league hit at the game that evening — he was at 2,998.

Conference attendees were permitted to stay at Marlins Park after our conference sessions and watch batting practice, even before the stadium’s gates opened for the game.

Watching the Marlins take batting practice was amazing for two reasons: Ichiro and José.

The stories of their batting practice sessions are legendary. Sure, I had heard that both Ichiro and José launched rockets throughout batting practice. But observing them step into the batter’s box and take their cuts during BP was altogether different.

Ichiro effortlessly launched balls into the right-field seats, about half landing in the upper deck. If he was pressing about his hunt for 3,000 hits, it wasn’t showing.

Then there was José Fernández. No. 16 in the Marlins uniform was like a magnet. Everyone gravitated toward him, shared a joke and laughed. Baseball on the field was fun.

In the middle of Marlins BP, I took note of a Marlins player in the middle of the infield trying to hit fungoes to the outfield. He was comically failing, hitting bloopers just beyond the infield dirt or swinging and outright missing. I joked to my friend seated next to me: Seriously? Who is that clown who can’t hit fungoes?

It was José. I was shocked.

Like so many others, I had seen the batting practice highlights, as well as the bench-clearing fracas that ensued after Fernández admired the home run he hit against the Astros during his rookie season.

Can’t hit fungoes?

Then José stepped into the batter’s box to take his cuts. It was showtime. Just about everyone hit pause to watch. There was no swinging and missing this time. Rather, long, high-arcing blasts launched over The Clevelander sign behind the left-field bullpen. A couple hit the back wall. I chuckled that the Cardinals’ Matt Holliday was watching with envy at the young Cuban pitcher hitting blasts farther then he had.

What a show.

Looking Back to the Future

They are nearly the same age: My students and Jose Fernández. He was still in his early 20s, as are they. They are in the early stage of adulthood and independence. Their futures are in front of them. So many choices to make; a seemingly endless range of possibilities.

José Fernández had much to live for. He had already lived a lifetime of possibilities: Escape from Cuba; saving a drowning mother; making his life anew as a young boy in Tampa; making The Show in baseball.

His story represents so much of the Cuban émigré experience. Miami Marlins fans loved him, as did Miami’s Cuban community, because in so many ways he was them.

The hope in leaving home for a new land. The promise of making better tomorrows. The sobering reality of separation, and of a loved one gone too soon.

It would have been hard for the Miami Marlins to send away a native son, to trade him to another organization when his contract demands would have made him cost prohibitive.

Unfortunately, Marlins management did not ever have to consider that possibility.

What I do know is that No. 16 was gone too soon. And that reality has changed the Marlins franchise.

Featured Image: Marc Serota / Getty Images Sport