Julio Rodríguez won the Home Run Derby on Monday evening before the first round of the tournament was complete at T-Mobile Park. Actually, he won it before his own first round was complete. Even if he didn’t technically win anything.

As the Mariner's center fielder stepped to the plate, the crowd eyeballed him pleadingly. They shouted his name expectantly. And when the first pitch he saw exploded high over the left field fence, it was not just a home run, but the fulfillment of some unspoken promise. After a mediocre few months of Mariners baseball to start this season, it was also cathartic.

The people needed Julio—and he knew this, and his knowledge of their needs only seemed to motivate him. In this respect, it was less like watching a sport and more like watching a performance; a musician feeding off the energy of the crowd. After all, a home run derby isn’t really about winning and losing; it’s about electrifying people. It’s about feats of strength and magic.

The 41 home runs he hit in that first round were a Home Run Derby record. Not that these kinds of records mean anything. It was more about the moment, and the energy, and the sheer absurdity of what he was doing.

Maybe it’s to compensate for all the losing over the years, or maybe it’s because they’ve simply been spoiled with them, but the Mariners fan base loves a superstar. And man, is Julio ever a superstar. His swing, easy and coiled. His smile. The amount of fun he seems to be having. The amount of love the other major leaguers on the field seem to have for him. It all looks so easy, and natural, and right, and if this sounds like I’m describing another Mariners center fielder, well, the facts are the facts.

And what makes it even wilder is that the Home Run Derby, as an event, only gets at a small fraction of what makes Rodríguez such a spectacular player. You don’t get to see him run the bases, or track down a fly ball in center field, or goof around in the dugout with his teammates. But you do get the sense that he wants to be there, and he wants to give something to the people who are watching.

When, in the second round, the home runs didn't come for Julio at the same absurd rate, it felt like the crowd didn’t know what to do anymore. There was quiet. It was like the people wanted to collectively will each ball over the fence, but also—could you really ask for more from a man who already gave you everything?