Marco Estrada spent most of his athletic life being overlooked.
Unlike most pros, he wasn't a two- or three-sport star. A child of Mexican immigrants, he didn't play anything but baseball as a kid.
Nonetheless, he didn't make the high school varsity team until his senior year. As a college player, he was the 174th pick in the 2005 major-league draft. During his rookie year in the big leagues, he said he'd planned to work as a parole officer.
He made the right choice.
In the biggest game of what has been a largely mediocre professional career, Mr. Estrada was bulletproof. With the Blue Jays facing elimination and the relief corps reduced to fumes, he delivered a seven-and-two-thirds-inning, three-hit performance. The Jays won 7-1 and will head back to Missouri trailing the Kansas City Royals 3-2 in the series.
A comeback remains unlikely, but if it gets that far, Mr. Estrada is the hero. You won't remember what he did in 10 years' time, because it was incremental. You certainly won't recall it in the same sense as Jose Bautista's bat flip.
But, in its way, it was more impressive. It's one thing to come through in an instant. It's another to manage it for more than two grinding hours, knowing a great many people are just waiting for you to implode.
"He's a master at what he does," manager John Gibbons said afterward. "It doesn't always look pretty, but he's mastered it."
Mr. Estrada came to Toronto in the off-season in a trade for disgruntled first baseman Adam Lind. The Jays were essentially forced into the move. As a result, most people thought they'd been skinned in the deal. Mr. Estrada was there to add bullpen depth – the interchangeable chum of major-league pitching.
A soft-tosser who cannot bully hitters, he was an afterthought coming out of spring training. He only cracked the rotation because highly regarded rookie Daniel Norris was demoted. Then he just got better and better.
He is charmingly unable to explain why, at the age of 32, he's gone from a journeyman to an all-star-calibre performer. For instance, here's Mr. Estrada on the development of his changeup, which is becoming regarded as one of the best in baseball.
"I think it was either low-A or high-A. I had a bad game. I told myself, 'You're only throwing fastballs and curveballs. You kind of need to bring out a new pitch.' I went up to one of the guys that has a really good changeup. Talked to him about it. He showed me his grip. I basically worked on it for a day. Had to pitch the following day. Took it out there. Saw some swings and misses. The rest is history."
That's not how that's supposed to work. But it does for Mr. Estrada.
His teammate David Price called the pitch "Bugs Bunny-esque." Even on television, Mr. Estrada's changeup can look as if it's folding time and space on the way to the plate.
This year, he added a cut fastball. He talks about it a lot, often in low-level exasperation. He is both the student and teacher of his own game. The role switches depending on how he did that day. When he loses, Mr. Estrada shrugs and apologizes. When he wins, he shrugs and grins. Last night, he owned the Royals early. Through 7 2/3 innings, he didn't allow a runner past first base. He tired at the end, giving up a home run and a single to the last two hitters he faced.
Pitching is myopic business. You spend a lot of time either dwelling on or trying to forget things that have only just happened. As Mr. Estrada came off the mound, he was shaking his head slightly in frustration. But the crowd rose to its feet and saluted him at ear-splitting volume. He tipped his cap grudgingly, as if he didn't want to indulge in the moment.
"It was an incredible feeling walking off that mound," he said shyly afterward.
Does it feel at all weird suddenly becoming a star?
"I wouldn't put it that way," Mr. Estrada said, sounding alarmed. "It's just one game."
Beside him, shortstop Troy Tulowitzki – Mr. Estrada's college teammate at California's Long Beach State – was staring vacantly at the back of the room. Mr. Tulowitzki was also taken in the 2005 draft – seventh over all. His career path has never been in doubt. He was already a world beater while Mr. Estrada was still in the low minors wondering if he'd have been better off with a steady job in the penal system.
People kept lobbing all the questions up at Mr. Estrada. Mr. Tulowitzki, who'd hit the three-run double that broke the game open, was happy to play the wingman. He's the sort of star who requires no attention. Having already absorbed a great deal of it over the past decade, he's lost the taste.
For Mr. Estrada, this is all completely new, but he hasn't had his head turned either. It's proof that there are two directions you can take on the way to achieving perspective – either top-down or bottom-up.
Mr. Estrada is proof that it doesn't matter which one you choose, as long as you get there.
Cathal Kelly