Altuve +/- 60 Walks

Altuve getting some MVP run.


Jose Altuve’s ‘PlayStation skills’ makes MLB’s shortest man an MVP threat

Earlier this season, when the ongoing war between Jose Altuve and Jake Marisnick was in its nascent stages, a wrestling match between the two broke out. This was something on the order of Rey Mysterio Jr. vs. Randy Orton, what with Altuve standing 5-foot-5 and Marisnick 6-foot-4, and at one point the disadvantage grew large enough that Altuve recruited George Springer to play tag-team partner and help with Marisnick. By now Altuve was on his own, though, and Marisnick was dominating him when they knocked over a nearby chair. The noise startled A.J. Hinch, the manager of Altuve, Marisnick and the rest of the Houston Astros, and when he poked his head out to see what caused the commotion, he targeted just one party.

“Jake,” Hinch said, “don’t hurt Altuve.”

“Well, what if he hurts me?” Marisnick said.

“I can replace you,” Hinch said. “I can’t replace Altuve.”

Sick burn notwithstanding, Hinch was telling the truth. Scant few players in baseball can be called irreplaceable, and the smallest position player the game has seen in three decades happens to be one of them. A three-time All-Star, a two-time stolen base king and a batting champion, Altuve this season has helped resurrect the Astros from their April doldrums by trying to add another award to his shelves: American League MVP.

He’s hitting a league-leading .348, walking twice as much as he did last season and putting up a .560 slugging percentage, more than 100 points higher than his previous high. Only four others aside from Altuve have more walks than strikeouts: David Ortiz, Anthony Rizzo, Bryce Harper and Ben Zobrist. Say this about Altuve: He keeps good company.

“Sometimes people say it looks easy,” Altuve said. “It’s never easy. No matter how good you hit the ball, how often you hit the ball. It’s really not easy. You have to do everything you can to get a hit, get on base.”

The evolution of Altuve from novelty to nonpareil accelerated in 2014 and mushroomed this season. Altuve is a habitual goal-setter. He wanted to sign with a team. The Astros gave him $15,000 as a 16-year-old out of Venezuela. He wanted to make the major leagues. He debuted at 21. He wanted to win a batting title. Altuve hit .341 in 2014. He wanted to win a stolen-base title. He swiped 56 bases that year. He wanted to get to the postseason. The Astros lost a heartbreaking division series last season to eventual champion Kansas City. Now he wants plate discipline.

“He didn’t really need it,” Astros general manager Jeff Luhnow said, “because he can swing like Vladimir Guerrero and make contact on any ball anywhere. One thing he’s realized this year is even if he has a .250 batting average on those bad pitches while other guys are at .120, if he lays off those pitches, the pitcher is forced to come into his happy zone, and then he’s a .450 hitter in that area.”

Luhnow isn’t exaggerating. Altuve’s nitro zone is over the middle and inside corners of the plate. High, middle, low – doesn’t really matter. In those six zones, Altuve is hitting .462 this season and slugging nearly .800.

“The dude plays PlayStation up there,” Springer said. “We’re up there grinding it out, and he’s playing PlayStation. It’s impressive. The guy can do what he wants. We said last night that he is not only good at hitting, but he’s good at hitting it where they aren’t. He has figured that out.”

Hitting them where they aren’t, as in actually placing the ball?

“Oh, 100 percent,” Springer said. “He’s that good.”

Altuve wouldn’t dare claim to have that sort of bat control. While Hinch said “his bat-to-ball skills are second to none,” the idea that Altuve is some sort of a magician with the hand-eye coordination, wrist strength and pure intuition it would take to do that … well, that’s like saying someone who isn’t even 5½ feet tall has more opposite-field home runs this season than Harper, Rizzo, Mike Trout, Kris Bryant, Nolan Arenado, Robinson Cano and Yoenis Cespedes. And who ever would believe that?

“Hosey can hit the ball where he wants, and it’s impressive,” Springer said. “I don’t know how. If I did, I’d try. He’s just got that hit gene.”

Genetics alone haven’t propelled Altuve into the MVP race alongside Trout, Josh Donaldson and Manny Machado. He remains in superlative shape. He understands that at 26 he now needs as much time for maintenance and recovery as anything, so he no longer needs to take hundred-pitch batting-practice sessions to hone something as finely crafted already as his swing.

“To me, he’s the most complete player in the game right now,” Luhnow said. “I don’t think there are any deficiencies in his game.”

Nothing, it seems, can stop Jose Altuve. Except maybe a batting helmet.

Some context, for those who haven’t seen the glorious crash: Altuve was having an Altuve night against Kansas City – a single, a double and a home run – when he gapped a ball to left-center field. Altuve wanted a cycle, and considering his wheels – he was up above 21 mph at top speed – he was probably going to get it. Then off flew his batting helmet, and it clipped a heel, which caused a chain reaction of spatial-awareness failures that ended with Altuve belly flopping over second base, bouncing off the ground and leaving his dignity in the same place as his woulda-been cycle.

On the bench, Springer lost it – penance for Altuve needling him the previous night when he didn’t swing at a 3-0 cookie. Others in the dugout guffawed. Altuve managed a sheepish smile.

“I really enjoy the guys laughing at me,” he said, and though it may seem like something a star would say reflexively, with Altuve it really is true. On his last day in Kansas City, he arrived for an afternoon game ever dapper, parked himself in front of his locker and readied to change into his workout clothes.

Awaiting him in his locker was a present that looked suspiciously like a pair of shower sandals covered in ace bandages and bound together by athletic tape. Altuve knew that wrapped inside was his occasional choice of weapon, a cloud of white powder. He turned around and stared at Marisnick, who was playing cards with teammates.

“Wasn’t me,” Marisnick said, and Altuve pivoted back toward the locker, understandably dubious, revenge plots coursing through his head. For now, those would have to wait. He had a game to play, some hits to pile up, a win to take home. Another goal on a list that gets shorter and shorter as the shortest man in the game gets better and better.