For possibly the last time, Brandon Crawford will trot out to his spot at shortstop and dig his cleats into the patch of dirt he’s made his own more than anyone in a Giants uniform.
The most decorated shortstop in Giants history never likes being at the center of attention. But he deserve all the recognition — from his kids throwing out the ceremonial pitches to all the festivities the Gaints have planned.
“In the general public, they’re just thanking me for everything I’ve done for the Giants and stuff like that,” Crawford said on Saturday. “It’s like, ‘My pleasure. I enjoyed all of it, too.’”
Nobody knows whether or not Crawford, 36, will continue to play next year. Who knows if he’d ever wear another Giants uniform? The questions about the end of his career may be out of his hands, and they’re ideas he’s waiting for the offseason to consider.
But that’s just how the story ends. The rest of Crawford’s career — every moment that led up to Sunday — is unassailable.
For the better part of 13 seasons, Giants coaches could look from the dugout out onto the field and never have to worry about shortstop. The sense of security from having a durable, reliable captain of the infield is hard to quantify. But Crawford provided it for 1,654 games — seventh most in franchise history and more than any other shortstop.
“He’s the greatest Giants shortstop of all time,” Ron Wotus, who has worked in the organization for 36 years, said.
For a Pleasanton native who was famously photographed as a kid at Candlestick Park pleading for the Giants to stay in San Francisco, perhaps nobody embodied the relationship between a team and its city more than the two-time World Series champion.
“It’s storybook,” veteran Alex Wood said. “It’s something that when you’re a kid and you dream about making it to the big leagues, you probably don’t think so much about playing for your childhood team, much less playing for them your entire storied career.
Crawford took the mantle of a Giant representing the region seriously — an example players like Kyle Harrison and Logan Webb can continue.
That pride showed in Crawford’s durability. He played at least 140 games in each of his first eight full seasons, all at shortstop. He hit the injured list just twice from 2011 to 2021, and played through bumps and bruises as his career advanced.
The Giants needed him to play all those games.
“We could never give him a day off because the defense would take such a big hit, that even if he wasn’t hitting, you didn’t want to lose his glove in the field,” Wotus said. “That’s where I have the utmost respect for his career, is his ability to go out there and play with aches and pains…people take that for granted. He very easily could’ve asked for days off. He played with pain when he was dinged up, lot of day games a after night games. But he was just too valuable to the team.”
Never the loudest in the clubhouse, Crawford led by example. When you’ve hit a grand slam in the 2014 wild card game and helped flip the most famous double play in franchise history, people tend to look for you.
His cool brand of leadership showed in his daily aux duties, his meticulous training both pregame and in spring training, and when he made time to sign autographs for fans. It showed in how he valued his family and how he stayed as the franchise cycled through championships, rebuilds, the magical 2021 season and the tumultuous present. He debuted on a roster with Buster Posey, Pablo Sandoval, Tim Lincecum and Brandon Belt and outlasted them all in San Francisco’s clubhouse.
“He’s just a legend,” Casey Schmitt said. “He’s everything. Everywhere I go in the city, there’s pictures of him, the big mural of him. He’s just an amazing person, amazing player.”
Crawford’s first hit was a grand slam — a magical moment that portended what became a magical career. His tenure reached its magnum opus in 2021, when he finished fourth in MVP voting while leading the club to a franchise-record 107 wins. If he decides to retire, Crawford finished with 1,392 hits and 146 home runs, four Gold Gloves and two All-Star selections.
All in one uniform.
“It’s not often you get to play with many franchise icons, guys that played in the same place their entire career,” Wood said. “Just such a massive presence in the Bay Area, in California. I think he’s been a really great face for the San Francisco Giants and for baseball for all these years.”
When Giants scouts — led by John Barr — discovered him ahead of the 2008 draft, they loved how even when he struggled at the plate, he never brought his bat out into the field with him.
That evaluation was almost prophetic, because that’s exactly how it played out. Since Crawford debuted, only Francisco Lindor, Nolan Arenado and Andrelton Simmons registered more outs above average.
Crawford made the routine plays look mundane and the difficult ones smooth. To him, anything hit remotely in his vicinity was within reach. Crawford is the type of player you need to watch daily to truly appreciate. It’s a slow, delightful burn.
Much of his excellence was invisible; he coupled all the physical gifts with a rare recall and mental edge.
Kai Correa, Crawford’s late-career infield coach and current interim manager, recollected that on May 27, 2021, Dodgers reliever Joe Kelly stepped up for his first plate appearance in two years. Correa, in charge of infield positioning, didn’t have any information on Kelly the hitter.
Crawford, Correa said, directed the Giants’ confused infielders. He motioned to the first baseman and adjusted Evan Longoria and Donovan Solano’s placement.
“Then Joe Kelly rolls over a ground ball, and Craw flies in and makes a quick exchange to throw him out,” Correa said. “I look up, like ‘why did he exchange that so quick?’ Well Joe Kelly can fly. So he gets Joe Kelly out, from memory. He had remembered Joe Kelly’s spray chart from when he was a starter in St. Louis, and how well he runs.”
Crawford’s mind might have helped record an out dozens of other times. That intangible separated him from other special shortstops. The Giants leaned on it.
When Wotus would give Crawford a defensive sheet pregame on a team the Giants had already played that year, the shortstop recite all the information without even reading it. Baserunning speeds to know, spray charts for positioning Hit-and-run tendencies — Crawford was always on top of it.
“The thing for me as a coach — when he was on the field, I was much more comfortable,” Wotus said. “In any moment in the game. World Series games, playoff games, in any big situation. He made it comfortable for me, because of the confidence that you had in him, not only to make the plays but to be in the right spot, to use his instincts and take charge of the infield.”
That quality can’t be transferred via osmosis. But Crawford, instead of insecurely looking over his shoulder at the Giants’ potential future shortstops, took young players under his wing.
He wrapped his arm around Schmitt during games and made the rookie feel comfortable enough to consult him (so comfortable, Schmitt’s favorite teammate to hug was probably the 13-year veteran). Crawford worked with Marco Luciano during spring training, trying to help the top prospect hone his footwork in the dirt.
Any organization would be fortunate to have a player like Crawford. Experiences like Schmitt’s this year are one of the many reasons why.
“He’s just helped me out a lot,” Schmitt said. “He’s always been the first person that I go up to and ask if I have questions. Just being around him, he’s been amazing. I feel like he’s really helped me a lot this year.”
The young players Crawford touched will have a chance to mature like he did. Crawford, in sync with a franchise that transformed from a San Francisco-era playoff drought to golden era, grew in every respect.
In the past 13 years, Crawford went from prospect to All-Star, from boyfriend to husband and father of four (soon to be five). From baby face to a face of the franchise, rookie to champion.
If Crawford has nothing left, that’s because he gave everything to the Giants.