The smile is shy.
The Padres’ prodigy possesses a humility that is rare and true, that neither flaunts its inherent greatness nor pretends it doesn’t exist.
The smile is also bemused.
He knows what you want, but he can’t give it. Not won’t. Can’t.
Virtually every time Fernando Tatis Jr. is asked to recount why and how he did something remarkable — like tagging up and scoring on a pop-up to second base — he grins and giggles and shakes his head and begins with something like this:
“It just happened.”
That is actually the perfect summation.