In a playoffs particularly devoid of the “usual” powers, most Major League Baseball fans are left searching for a team to root for. The typical rules don’t apply, as Red Sox fans can’t blindly root against the Yankees, and Phillies fans can’t cheer for the Braves’ eventual demise, or vice versa. In the 2011 playoffs, almost every fan base (minus those of the active four teams) is left scratching its collective head, wondering whom to root for.
For those on the fence about this decision, the Brewers bring to the postseason the best feel-good story — and one that’s received very little press. This isn’t the story of Nyjer Morgan (aka Tony Plush) and his possible multiple personalities, or even Prince Fielder and his intentions for next season, but rather the story of Zack Greinke, and how he’s successfully battled the invisible.
Only six years removed from a seven-month break from baseball, Greinke toed the mound for his first career playoff start this season. In front of 44,000 towel-waving Wisconsinites, Greinke stood alone, 60 feet and 6 inches away from the plate. Despite a disappointing outing based on statistics, the young ace had already won the largest battle of all. Forgotten by most, Zack had to leave baseball in 2006 to deal with a social anxiety disorder and depression, and now he is leading a potential World Series run.
For his entire career prior to joining the Brewers, Greinke had faced the pressures piled on a top-10 draft pick mentioned in Michael Lewis’ Moneyball. He was young, tall and had all the intangibles. Because of this, the long-suffering Royals organization and fans put immense faith in him to be their savior.
Zack could not live up to expectations, partly due to very little help from his offense. At the age of 21, he suffered through a 17-loss season in which he posted a dismal 5.80 ERA. Most of us can’t fathom being stranded on the lonely pitcher’s mound for 33 miserable starts at our age, giving up almost six runs each game.
Eventually the combination of stress, enormous expectations and internal demons became too much, and Greinke sought treatment. Baseball fans everywhere are thankful for this, as Zack’s Cy Young-winning season in 2009 was a masterpiece that fans of all teams could appreciate.
When Greinke takes the mound for each start, the casual observer sees only a tall and lanky pitcher with an ice-cold demeanor. Between his glare in nearly every picture, his awkward and forced half-smile and his pained words during interviews, fans choose to see a “tough as nails” competitor who was forged in the losing fires of Kansas City.
What few people look deep enough to see is that Greinke struggles every day with things most people find commonplace. He’s described talking to others as a chore that is capable of “taking a lot out of [me].” He’s spoken previously about not enjoying spending time in the clubhouse, supposedly a player’s refuge.
Greinke, whose fastball reaches upward of 95 miles per hour, represents an unlikely hero for the 19 million Americans suffering from depression and for anyone else in need of an athletic role model who suffers like a real person. It’s not uncommon for athletes to not enjoy talking with the media, as Deion Sanders throwing water on reporter Tim McCarver many years ago demonstrates, but Greinke’s case is entirely different. Greinke doesn’t frequent lavish restaurants, “because sometimes that wears [him] out,” and despises interviews.
In an era where an athlete (Alex Rodriguez) can have two paintings of himself as a centaur in his home, Zack Greinke fights every day for a sense of normalcy. When we watch him throw this postseason, spectators should ignore the $13.5 million he earned in 2011 and focus on the beauty of his story.
When choosing a team for this postseason, it almost seems intuitive to root for the story of a young ace fighting an invisible demon rather than a team like the Tigers, whose star hitter Miguel Cabrera infamously drank from a bottle of alcohol in front of an officer while being pulled over on suspicion of DUI. On baseball’s largest stage, Greinke is proving for 17 million Americans that he’s not about to let depression get the best of him — and neither should they.
Corey Blaine is a junior in the McDonough School of Business. The Bleacher Seats appears every Friday.
