We were sitting around the other day trying to figure out what the most universally enjoyed thing is. We started with ice cream, but then got more vibesy: Laying down when you’re super tired. The right beverage when you’re thirsty. Downhill after uphill. I suggested shade on a hot day. There’s a theme: The most universal cause of enjoyment seems to be, simply, relief.
On June 10th, Elly De La Cruz played his fifth career game, the Reds beat the Cardinals, and, for everybody, the work day was over. Like factory workers clocking out, the Reds all gathered for the traditional baseball punch-clock ritual, the high-five line.
As every Red passes, you see the familiar MLB logo on the back of each cap, until De La Cruz jogs into frame. Then we see the Cincinnati C and the black brim of a hat turned backwards. He’s off the clock.
This is something De La Cruz does after every game: Flip the hat, disable the sunglasses, untuck the jersey. How quickly does he move into weekend mode? Here, it takes him about two seconds from the umpire’s out call:
I would guess most of us don’t think of a front-facing baseball cap as work clothes in the same way we think of scrubs or coveralls or an apron or muddy boots or a tie or shoes that pinch your toes. But, of course, anything that is mandatory for work becomes work clothes. In my life I’ve had work clothes that always stunk of work, work clothes that were uncomfortably stiff, work clothes that made me look like a dork, and at the end of the day I’ve enjoyed shedding them all. In that list of universally enjoyed things, relieving one’s body of work clothes has to be included.
The image of the ballplayer unburdening himself of his work clothes has, traditionally, been the player in the clubhouse after the game, half-dressed (or less than that), standing or sitting in front of a locker. But that player doesn’t look relaxed yet. He’s still doing work, talking to the press, trying to sound interesting or being careful not to sound too interesting. The post-game scrum is often one of the parts of the job the ballplayer likes least and looks least relaxed in; that scene doesn’t convey relief.
De La Cruz, on the other hand, does. The moment that the pressure is off, he transforms himself. He takes the symbol of conformity on his head and flips it around; he takes the constraints of his jersey and loosens them. He becomes, joyously, his own man, living on his own clock. Here’s what his teammates looked like after a game ended last month:
Bleh. They look like they’re still working. Like they’re waiting around for somebody to tell them its okay to be free and loose. Here’s a better way:
Thirty years ago, Buck Showalter got mad when Ken Griffey Jr. took batting practice in a backwards cap, and when Barry Bonds wouldn’t tuck in his shirt until game time. He seemed to think that an untucked uniform suggested a lack of seriousness about the job. But that gets it entirely wrong. Work is hard, and the more seriously you take it the harder it is. A player might not want to put on his work clothes before he has to because, once the game starts, the stakes are as high to him as to an ER doctor. That’s also why a player might want to take off his work clothes as soon as he can—he’s exhausted by the strain of trying and caring so much. It’s the seriousness of work that makes the post-work undressing so satisfying.
While the ballcap (and, specifically, the front-facing ballcap) has some practical purpose in ballplaying, that’s really only true for some ballplayers at some positions in some ballparks at some times of the day; it is otherwise merely a signifier of work time. One imagines, then, that some ballplayers feel it as a heavy weight on their heads, a weight they bear as needed but no longer than they must:
David Ortiz usually didn’t wear a hat during batting practice. (Occasionally, perhaps, neither did Babe Ruth.) Mike Trout sometimes wears his backward during BP. You can project, in both cases, the savoring of freedom that precedes the difficult part of their day. The music is playing, the stadium is empty, the pitches are all right down the middle and one’s head is his own. Indulgence!
In this year’s Home Run Derby, only one player wore a cap facing forward; four wore it backward, while three—Vladimir Guerrero Jr., Julio Rodríguez and Adley Rutschman—wore no hat at all. (In 1994, Griffey wore his backward and everybody else wore hats facing forward.) A teenager named PJ Morlando won the high school home run derby during All-Star week. He, too, was gloriously hatless.
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Sometimes the Reds win in a walk-off, which means that when the game ends De La Cruz is in the dugout, not on the field. Even better than turning the hat around, he gets to ditch it altogether!
Sometimes the Reds lose. Those are the work days that suck. But if there’s one thing that’s consistent about jobs, it’s that taking off the work clothes feels like just as much of an imperative on the bad days and the good.
Once, the work day ended and De La Cruz flipped his hat around, weekend mode. But then there was a contested call on the final play. The absolute worst—getting called back by the boss after you’ve clocked out.
Ah, but it was a false alarm. The call was confirmed, and he celebrated the end of the day all over again:
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I’d like to think this is infectious. After a win last month, De La Cruz’ teammate Nick Senzel flipped his hat after the last pitch.
and, occasionally since De La Cruz came up, so has Joey Votto:
And, as soon as I publish this, I’m going to put on a cap, and go for a walk—the nearest equivalent for a stay-at-home ball blogger. Hope you all get to enjoy your weekend modes, too.
The 2009 Brewers would untuck their jerseys after a win. It was started by Mike Cameron, as a tribute to his father, a blue-collar worker who untucked his shirt after a long workday.
https://onmilwaukee.com/articles/brewerscelebration052609
I can really relate to this hat thing! I play in brass bands a lot, and certain bands have to wear the “traditional” outfit that consists of blacks pants, white shirt, black ties, and the brass band hat. (Picture a milkman or the Maytag guy or sumn like that) I always make sure to wear the hat sideways/backwards before and after the gig. It’s not sumn I’d normally wear, and that small act of rebellion provides a little relief.