That was Cody Bellinger on his couch in Scottsdale, Arizona, on Thursday afternoon, beside his mom, his eyes red and his lips trembly, having just been told he was the National League’s Most Valuable Player in his third big-league season, that a .305 batting average and 47 home runs and all the other numbers were just enough.
That was Bellinger, whose most common public presentation of himself is a cool stoicism, whose apparent objective is to reveal as little of himself as possible. Whose preferred means of communication is a shrug.
Then, suddenly, having been affirmed as the best player in his league at the age of 24, he was tilting back his head to catch the tears, grinning through it all.