Four years ago, Javy Baez put pen to paper. On Wednesday, with the season on the line, he put bat to ball. The Tigers aren't dead yet. They will play at least one more game, Friday in Seattle, and their best chance of winning beyond Tarik Skubal might involve the man whose name echoed across Comerica Park and down Woodward Avenue on a sunny afternoon in October: Ja-vy! Ja-vy!! The wait was worth a scene like this.
Baez had to laugh. The chant, he said, "honestly makes me more nervous than the boos," which were growing louder and heavier when the Tigers went meekly in the fourth and trailed the Mariners 3-0 in Game 4 of the ALDS. It sounded like more of the same for Detroit's bats, muffled for the better part of a month. But baseball is a funny game. If Baez has taught us anything this year, no one can ever be buried alive.
"That's one thing that we've been doing the most this regular season. We've been through ups and downs, and we've been through shi*ty games," Baez said. "And I tell (my teammates) all the time, 'If we lose playing good baseball, we're going to be alright. We're going to get something out of the game.' The boos, I don't mind that. I mean, I've heard boos all my career. I feel like that's the desire of the fans to see us have success. And you've got to let the fans be fans."
And you've got to let Baez be Baez. It's not always pretty, and sometimes ugly. The sight of him flailing at the plate for most of the first three years of his $140 million contract was ghastly. The rancor aimed his way was the cost of doing business. But there's something about Baez that's built for big spots. The Tigers just didn't create any until Baez underwent season-ending hip surgery last August. Finally, the man and the moment have aligned.
"Javy loves these big games, these big crowds, these opportunities to do something great," said A.J. Hinch. "Our best team has him doing some pretty impactful things."
Baez was one of many culprits in the Tigers' second-half swoon. He hit .219 with a meager .540 OPS over the final three months of the season, after his miraculous start. Then the calendar flipped to October. As the strikeouts kept piling up for the Tigers in the playoffs, Baez kept knocking out hits. Even at his worst in Detroit, he's always been reliable with men on base, never batting lower than .292 in any year with runners in scoring position. He tends to zero in when it matters most.
The fans could feel it when he stepped to the plate in the midst of the Tigers' fifth inning rally, Detroit trailing by a run with a man on second. On one of the first pitches he saw, Baez drilled a slider to left that brought the stadium to its feet before it hooked foul. He would laugh later and admit that "when you hit a home run foul," you almost always proceed to strike out.
"But I kept my plan and kind of stayed through the middle," Baez said. "He challenged me with the fastball, and I was ready for it."
Baez drilled Gabe Speier's 95 mile-per-hour heater back through the box to tie the game, as if there was ever a doubt.
The Tigers thought they signed a superstar when they landed Baez back in 2021. Baez thought he joined a team on the rise. Flush with highly-rated prospects like Spencer Torkelson and Riley Greene, the Tigers reminded Baez of the club that he came up with in Chicago that turned immortal in 2016. He envisioned a similar arc in Detroit. But Baez staggered, the Tigers' stalled and the story look destined for an unhappy ending. 2025 felt like the final chapter, and Baez's final chance.
"Honestly, I wish I was part of it last year, when the team took off," Baez said. "I had to get away for my surgery, but there was a whole plan and a whole reason why I came here. My agency and my team did really good homework, and all the prospects together is kind of what we had in '16 (with the Cubs) when we won. I think the talent here is huge when we're healthy as a team and we play together."
The Tigers took the lead in the sixth on a mammoth of a homer by Greene. Torkelson followed with a double. After Zach McKinstry drove him home with a single, Baez came to the dish again, a runner on second and two outs, the Tigers leading by two, the fans going berserk. For years, they couldn't stand the sight of him. Now there wasn't a hitter they'd rather see than Ja-vy! Ja-vy!!
"I just try to control myself. As you guys know, I've got a big swing," he said with a smile, "so I just try to control my emotions during the moment."
When he got the slider he was looking for from Eduard Bazardo, Baez sent it soaring over the Tigers' bullpen and into a mosh-pit of fans in the left field seats. That was the kill shot, on a day the Tigers were playing for their lives. Everyone knew then that this series was going back to Seattle.
"It's very rewarding to watch him play with some joy," said Hinch. "He's had to endure a lot."
Afterward, Baez tried to explain what allows him to thrive in the clutch. He cited his "focus on my timing," his preparation in the batting cage, and his willingness "to do anything for the team." Then he grinned, his cap turned backward, bling around his neck, a patch of eyeblack still smeared on his face, and boiled it down to this: "I feel good when it's playoff time."
"He did everything perfectly today," said Hinch. "I mean, it was amazing. He just rises to the moment. ... He's been there. He's done it. It matters a lot to him. And the big swings, whether it's a base hit to right, the pull-side homer, and everything in between is pretty magical to see."
The disappearing act is over. At long last, El Mago is here.