It's every kid's dream to hit a grand slam. Once upon a time, a St. Louis Cardinal hit two inside one inning. Sometimes, a career can be made in not only a single night, but a single inning.
When I was a kid, I'd play baseball with my friends at a school yard on Hereford called Kenard. There was a large fence at the back of the school yard we called the green monster, mimicking the large wall in left field at Fenway Park.
We'd all take our swings, hacking deep in order to scoop the ball up over the wall. If we did it, the walk to the candy store down off Pernod was a slow and victorious one. If the ball scaled off the concrete wall below instead, it was more of a slow clap from your friends. Hitting it over the monster in left felt like a slam.
21 years ago Thursday, Fernando Tatis hit a pair of grand slams off one pitcher in Los Angeles. Only in Hollywood could something so unlikely occur. Facing Chan Ho Park of the Dodgers, Tatis smashed a pair of home runs before Park could collect three outs. Two swings for eight runs. No hitter had accomplished the feat before and no one has done it since. I would wager it doesn't happen again.
Think about what has to occur. You need to come up with the bases loaded, smash it over the wall, and then hope for the rest of the lineup to bat around again so you can get back to the plate. But you need the bases to be loaded again. Six hitters must work over a pitcher in six at-bats, but you also need the hitters in between to find a way to keep the inning going.
Thankfully, Park had the worst day of his professional career. He would allow 31 home runs that year in over 194 innings pitched, but two came inside one of those innings. He would put together arguably his best seasons the following two years, but would never amount to anything other than a decent starting pitcher. Park finished the final tour of his career with six different teams after spending several with Los Angeles.
Tatis didn't even enjoy that level of versatility during his career, but he did have one very good year. 1999 was his best, where he smashed 34 home runs and produced a .957 OPS (adding on base and slugging percentage together). Tatis collected 160 hits, stole 21 bases, played in 149 games, and doubled 31 times. Remember those 34 homers? Tatis would only hit 42 over the next six seasons combined. Tatis didn't even play in the Majors in 2004, 2005, and 2007.
One could say 1999 was great for Tatis for other reasons as well. His son, current Major League shortstop Fernando Tatis Jr., was born that year. Tatis Jr. picked up a two-run home run against the Cardinals a little over a year ago as a member of the San Diego Padres. He would put up 4.1 Wins Above Replacement for San Diego, hitting 22 home runs while coming in third in Rookie of The Year voting. A career that's just getting started.
His dad's career would never shine brighter than it two decades ago. Like Park, Tatis finished his career in 2010 as a forgotten ballplayer on a team whose fan base probably didn't even know he existed. Two guys well known for one night, one on the more infamous side. It makes you think which you'd rather go for: the great game and season or a longer career/number of games in the big leagues.
To Tatis' credit, 2000 was a solid season as well, but it was a step down from what he did the previous year. Then again, when you hit two grand slams in an inning, everything could be considered a step down. It's like attending an extremely impressive fireworks display and the next few years simply don't measure up.
For a hot second, Fernando Tatis and Chan Ho Park were prime time names. They had their moment, on both sides of the spectrum of well-known baseball players. For a moderate portion of his time in Cardinal red, I would dread seeing Tatis sidearm a throw over to first base. Some Dodgers fans would label Park a disappointment, and forget those near solid seasons.
21 years ago, history was made. History that will never be undone. Tatis may not have been a star, but he did something incredible. Something kids do every day in that similar school yard setting.
One day, I managed to hit one over the monster in South City. I raised my arms, smiled, and rounded the invisible bases. For a moment, I was king of the world, master of the impossible. The moment faded but the memory remained.
Fernando Tatis didn't have the career he most likely envisioned, but he owns a indelible record in Major League Baseball. As Larry David would say, "pretty ... pretty ... good."
