Under the Lights, With Laughter: How Rodríguez, Ray, and Machado Soaked in the HR Derby
By [Joyce]
ATLANTA – There’s something about the Home Run Derby that strips away the grind of the season and leaves only the bright smiles, the playful chirps, the soft moments of family in the dugout, and the wide-eyed kids peeking over railings hoping for a wave.
For Julio Rodríguez, Robbie Ray, and Manny Machado, Monday’s Derby wasn’t just about the bombs launched into the Georgia evening. It was about standing along the dugout railing with teammates, sharing a laugh between swings, watching toddlers toddle across the warning track, and soaking in a moment that, even for big leaguers, feels like a dream.
As Rodríguez stood near the on-deck circle, his navy cap turned backward under the fading light, you could hear him joking with Ray about launch angles. They pointed skyward, laughed, and wagged their fingers as the crowd roared with each crack of the bat.
“I remember watching this on TV, hoping one day I’d even get here as a player,” Rodríguez said post-event, a grin stretching across his face. “Now we’re here with our guys, enjoying it, reminding ourselves why we love this game.”
Rodríguez, who had 25 home runs at the break, didn’t compete in this year’s Derby but was the team’s emotional hype man, bouncing on the balls of his feet, shouting encouragement for every moonshot hit into the second deck. When the crowd gasped at a particularly massive shot from a competitor, Rodríguez whistled, turned to Ray and said, “I’ll get that one next year.”
Family Moments, Unscripted Joy
Behind them, Manny Machado cradled his young son, gently pointing toward the scoreboard lights as another home run cleared the outfield bleachers. His wife watched from the seats, phone raised, catching every squeal of laughter and every smile as the little one clapped.
“These are the days you don’t forget,” Machado said quietly, adjusting the toddler’s cap. “It’s not about the cameras or the crowd; it’s about being around the guys, letting the kids see what we do, and letting them feel how fun this can be.”
Nearby, Robbie Ray’s family settled into the cushioned front-row seats, a soft breeze rolling through the concourse. Ray’s daughter perched on his knee, tugging at the bill of his All-Star cap, giggling when her dad tried to act serious for a selfie.
A League Gathering
The Derby’s practice fields had felt like a high school reunion for MLB players, each star weaving through a maze of warm-up stations to dap up old teammates and childhood friends. Kids darted between batting practice cages, players signed balls for each other’s children, and the air was filled with the smell of popcorn, sunscreen, and anticipation.
“It’s the one day we’re all on the same team,” Ray said. “You’re with your guys, but you’re also with the game.”
The trio spent time near the first base dugout, greeting fans who called out from the seats, tossing up baseballs, and pausing for a quick photo. One kid in a Mariners jersey shrieked when Rodríguez pointed and tossed him a practice ball. Another fan in a Padres cap yelled, “Manny, you’re the man!” Machado winked, gave a thumbs up, and kept walking, the kid nearly levitating from excitement.
The Power of the Moment
While the Home Run Derby is about showcasing the game’s top sluggers, it also becomes a window into the players’ humanity. For all the seriousness of the season—chasing playoff spots, enduring road trips, and managing injuries—the Derby offers one night where the stars simply get to be fans again.
Ray, known for his intense presence on the mound, looked almost unrecognizable in the dugout, relaxed and cracking jokes with players from rival teams. Machado and Rodríguez posed for photos together, arms draped around each other, the moment frozen in the glow of stadium lights.
“This is the fun part of the job,” Rodríguez said. “It’s what we dream of when we’re kids. You don’t want to lose that feeling.”
Eyes on the Future
While they came as spectators, the next All-Star Derby might look different. Rodríguez, with his effortless power and infectious energy, seems destined to take his hacks in the Derby soon. Machado, too, hinted at the possibility.
“I’ve done the Derby before,” Machado said with a grin, “but if Julio’s in next year, maybe I’ll give him some company.”
The players left the field as the final home run balls sailed into the Atlanta sky, signing a few last baseballs, sharing final waves with the crowd, and pausing to let their children take in the electric scene.
For a few hours, under the bright lights of the HR Derby, the worries of the standings, the next pitching matchup, or the looming trade deadline didn’t exist. There was just laughter, the thump of batting practice, kids dancing in the aisles, and players remembering why they fell in love with baseball.
“That’s why you play,” Ray said, adjusting his cap and glancing around the stadium one last time before heading toward the clubhouse tunnel. “To have nights like this.”