Farewell to Jose Fernandez, the Kid Who ‘Loved the Baseball’

Miami Marlins pitcher Jose Fernandez was killed in a boating accident Sunday morning. The 24-year-old right-hander was 16-8, with an ERA of 2.86, and he had the second-most strikeouts, 253 in 182.1 innings, in the major leagues. On Wednesday, he pitched 8 innings of shutout baseball against the Washington Nationals, which Marlins hitting coach Barry Bonds thought was Fernandez’s best outing of the year.

I watched the game on TV and saw Bonds and Fernandez embrace each other in the dugout and laugh. As the AP reported, Bonds shouted, “I love you.”

“That goes way back, it’s a long story,” Fernandez said with a smile about his connection with Bonds. “It’s impressive. Everybody knows who he is and what he has done in this game. When I was walking in here now he told me, ‘It was the best that I have seen you pitch. I’m impressed.’ To get that from probably one of the best hitters in the history of the game means the world.”


Yes, one of the best hitters ever, but also one of the game’s notorious sourpusses. And yet Fernandez clearly brought the best out of him, joy. Here’s Fernandez photo-bombing Bonds during an interview in June. When the broadcast team alerted Bonds that Fernandez was making fun of him, Bonds turns and grabs him. “He’s like my kid,” says a laughing Bonds.

That sounds right. Critics called the Cuban-born Fernandez a hot dog—he admired his first big-league homer too avidly for the taste of the opposing Atlanta Braves, who cleared the bench after Fernandez touched home—but I think Bonds got it right: Fernandez was a kid, who rightfully enjoyed his own abilities. He also made the most of the opportunities fate put in his way.

Fernandez, said Orlando Chinea, one of his first pitching coaches, “loved the baseball.” Chinea also worked with fellow Cubans Livan Hernandez, Orlando “El Duque” Hernandez, and Jose Contreras but said, “I’ve never known anybody who loves baseball as much as Jose.”

This Grantland article from 2013 shows how hard Fernandez worked at it. Shortly after Fernandez arrived in the United States, he met Chinea, who

looked at the 15-year-old Fernandez, a little taller than 6 feet but still only 160 pounds, and he wasn’t sure what to think. A former pitching coach in the Japanese league and for the Cuban national team, Chinea now worked privately with Tampa-area prospects. He’d agreed to meet Fernandez free of charge, but if the kid wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t going to waste anybody’s time. Fernandez threw. “He couldn’t pitch,” Chinea says. “He could throw.” His fastball topped out at around 84 miles per hour. His curveball delivery was short-armed, but at least the pitch actually curved. Good enough, Chinea thought. That summer, they worked. Eight a.m. to 1:30 p.m. “Monday to Monday,” Chinea says. “No breaks.” For a month, Fernandez never touched a baseball. He’d spend an hour a day stretching, then a few more hours working out — plyometrics, some weight training, swimming, throwing medicine balls, and, of course, flipping tires and chopping trees. He did, on occasion, complain. But he stopped himself. “I thought about how many people there are in America,” Fernandez says. “Out of all of those people, a lot of them are baseball players. Out of all of those baseball players, a lot of them are pitchers. And then I would think, are any of those pitchers out there working out, right now? Probably, somewhere, yeah. So I couldn’t quit.”

The Marlins took him in the first round of the 2011 draft and, writes Grantland‘s Jordan Ritter Conn,

Fernandez blew through A ball, going 14-1 with a 1.75 ERA, striking out 10.6 hitters per nine innings. This year he came to spring training, he said, hoping to learn. “I remember talking to him one day in the spring,” says Marlins reliever Steve Cishek. “And he’s just going on about how he’s excited to be there, how he really wants to keep quiet and see what it’s like, just learn from the veterans. I’m like, ‘OK, man, that’s cool.’ Well, next thing you know, here he is in the big leagues, and he’s bouncing around the clubhouse yelling, laughing, everything. It’s like he owns the place.”

Fernandez’s story, how he defected from Cuba as a teenager, became legend. His mother was washed off the boat and he leapt in the sea and saved her. This morning, Miami and baseball mourn his death. If the 24-year-old had yet to realize fully his talent, there’s little doubt his energy, charisma, and love of baseball will continue to move and inspire his fans, including one of the greatest hitters of all time.

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