For the Love of the Game: Kyle Hendricks Edition

I went to write my "3 Up, 3 Down" post this week, but I just couldn't do it. I could not stop thinking about this weekend. 

I want to focus on something else: Kyle Hendricks. 

Since he made his Major League debut in 2014, I have adored watching him pitch. The Professor, dubbed for his Ivy League education, was different. In an age of rising velocities, power sweepers, and strike outs, Kyle existed in a 89-74 mph world of finesse, intelligence, and change-ups. 

Kyle changed the way I looked at pitching as a fan. I learned about tunneling and sequencing in order to understand how he could do what he could do. I learned about his change-up's shape and manipulation that made his the pitch have arm-side run vs lefties, and glove-side vs righties. 

In 2016, Kyle cemented himself as a Cubs legend with a 3rd place Cy Young finish, a NLCS clincher vs Clayton Kershaw, and a Game 7 start in the World Series. Based on a silly bet with my wife, my son got his name from him. 

Baseball tends to transcend logic and can become so powerful in how it connects to memories and emotions. My connection to the game has been Hendricks and marking the calendar to "go to class" as often as I could. Time is undefeated as it slips away and turns the present into past faster than we perceive or even want to admit. That sobering reality hit hard for me in 2022 when Kyle Hendricks was pulled from a game I was watching on my 33rd birthday. 

It started as a perfect moment: I had just finished a major setup goal in my Cub Cave (Pics or it didn't happen). At this point in the season, and potentially a longer stretch than that, it had become clear something was off. Kyle's change-up did not have it's signature bite. The differential between his off-speed pitches and his fastball shrunk, making the margin for success so much smaller. The home run rate began to climb, in tandem with his WHIP and ERA. Kyle was removed from the game with an injury. Gulp.

As fans, we can be extremely reactionary, but the body of work started to show a downturn in his career. I found myself emotionally unready for this. This was super surprising, given my fandom being  barraged with heartbreaking news like a tin roof in a hailstorm: Rizzo, Bryant, Baez, and soon to be, Contreras gone. I was able to step back and evaluate each of those players with some sense of logic:

•  I wasn't in love with Bryant's shoulder and health, and was legitimately concerned on a longterm financial commitment if the Cubs continued to operate at or below the luxury tax thresholds.
• Contreras brought the most offensive value as a catcher, but their were legitimate game calling questions. 
• Baez I wanted. I got over it, but I wanted him. 
• I struggled with some of Rizzo's comments and decisions during the pandemic. That hurdled his hero status back to Earth.

Kyle was different. I spent a portion of the 2022 offseason mentally preparing for his career to be over. I read the stories of a new program to strengthen the shoulder with the capsular tear, but felt it was classic offseason fluff piece material. It was to update us on the last thread to a team that changed our fandom forever. 

And then, hope. Triple-A rehab stints. Then a late May return. I was in my Hendo jersey in the Cub Cave, ready to see my hero again. I rationalized the results as a stepping stone towards health. "Hey, he is out there, let's see if he recovers."

vs 

Per Baseball Savant

I feel baseball can be like the movies. The movie I specifically think of is "For the Love of the Game." Hendricks stepped on that mound vs. San Francisco on a National Fox broadcast, carrying the hopes of a slipping season, the burden of a winless Fox performance for the Cubs since the 2022 Field of Dreams game, and the search for building back what once was. 

Only 7 outs over 100 MPH, with 8 under 80MPH

And he was, as the kids say,  Him (I feel old typing that). I know it is not the same as it was (intentional Harry Styles pun). But, damn, it was special. I was watching the game on my phone as I laid with my youngest daughter as she fell asleep for the night. I had the sound off, heightening what I was seeing. I breathtaking drop away from a lefty. Precision to the corners. Soft contact (mostly). As it got later, I left my daughter's room to inform my wife of the situation developing. We turned on the game and watched it together. 

For one night, Kyle, and myself, got to pretend that this season hasn't been disappointing. For one night, my baseball world was perfect. Kyle was nearly perfect. And just like that, everything was right in my baseball world. 

Thank you for everything, regardless of where it goes from here, Kyle Hendricks. Go Cubs. Forever.