Cole Anthony, the No. 2-ranked prospect in the 2019 class and the top unsigned senior, announced his commitment to North Carolina on Tuesday morning.

"We ended up going with North Carolina," Anthony said on ESPN's Get Up! "We really pushed this decision back a lot. We really just kept looking at all our schools, and I just always ended up winding up going back to Carolina. It felt like a family to me. I love Coach [Roy] Williams, Coach [Hubert] Davis. If it was up to me, I'd be on campus tomorrow."

Anthony chose the Tar Heels over a final four that included Oregon, Notre Dame and Georgetown. The son of former NBA veteran Greg Anthony, he played his recruitment very close to the vest, not even listing a group of schools for most of his recruitment. He eventually cut his list to six schools in October, including Wake Forest and Miami, in addition to his final quartet. Anthony took all five of his official visits and also went to a number of schools unofficially.

Despite the public mystery, most of the focus behind the scenes centered around North Carolina and Oregon. The Tar Heels emerged as the clear favorite as Anthony's high school season progressed, though, and Anthony even took another unofficial visit to Chapel Hill in early March.

Anthony has been considered arguably the best guard in his class for most of his high school career, and he capped it this spring with a stellar postseason circuit. He earned MVP honors at both the McDonald's All American Game and Jordan Brand Classic, and then led USA Basketball to a win at the Nike Hoop Summit, finishing with 25 points, eight rebounds and two assists.

Ranked No. 2 in the 2019 class behind James Wiseman, Anthony is a 6-foot-3 point guard from New York who attended Oak Hill Academy (Virginia). He was historically productive on the Nike EYBL circuit last spring and summer for the PSA Cardinals, averaging 26.8 points, 7.8 rebounds and 3.8 assists. Anthony also won a gold medal for USA Basketball at the 2018 FIBA Americas U18 Championship last summer and was named to the all-tournament team.

Anthony is the second five-star prospect in Roy Williams' 2019 recruiting class, joining center Armando Bacot (No. 17 in the ESPN 100). Rounding out the class is four-star guard Jeremiah Francis. The Tar Heels are still involved with five-star forward Precious Achiuwa (No. 16) and former Virginia Tech commit Anthony Harris (No. 75). Graduate transfers Christian Keeling (Charleston Southern) and Justin Pierce (William & Mary) also have visits set.

Williams and North Carolina face a rebuild next season, as the Tar Heels lose their top five scorers from this past season. Forwards Luke Maye and Cameron Johnson and guard Kenny Williams are all seniors, while freshmen Coby White and Nassir Little are projected top-20 NBA picks.

IT'S SATURDAY, SEPT. 8, in Tyler, Texas, and it is officially "Jimmy Butler Day." The chancellor of Tyler Junior College has just bestowed an honorary degree on its most famous alumnus, followed by the city council handing the key to the city to the Sixers swingman, an honor not even bestowed upon native son Earl Campbell, an NFL Hall of Famer.

Later in the day, a beaming Butler, wearing diamond hoop earrings and torn jeans, looks on as the lobby of the school's gym is renamed in his honor, his jersey is retired and he is inducted into the school's Circle of Honor, making him the youngest graduate to receive that distinction.

During the Jimmy Butler Day ceremonies, Butler gives what longtime Tyler basketball coach Mike Marquis says are two of the most thoughtful and impassioned speeches he's ever heard, describing for students how, as a quiet teenager, he was able to springboard from Tyler to Marquette to NBA stardom.

"For me, when you're talking about basketball and where you come from, there's always going to be a lot of emotions," Butler says later. "That s--- is special."

Later that day, while coaching in the alumni charity game, a scowling Butler paces in front of the bench, yelling out defensive assignments and pick-and-roll instructions. Marquis considers asking Butler to chill a little, then thinks better of it. It's Jimmy Butler Day, after all. And like it or not, that red-line approach to all things hoops is a big part of who Butler is -- and why Sept. 8, 2018, is Jimmy Butler Day in the first place.

Almost seven months later, while reminiscing about the day's events and an honor long since overshadowed by his tumultuous and perhaps career-defining NBA season, Butler says: "It's crazy to think that was just [seven] months ago. ... It legit seems like it could have been two years ago."

TWO WEEKS AFTER leaving Texas, there's another Jimmy Butler Day -- of sorts.

In 2017-18, with Butler averaging a team-high 22.2 points and 36.7 minutes per game, the Minnesota Timberwolves won 47 games and made the playoffs for the first time in 14 years. And then, in a pattern that has come to define his NBA career -- and now, the Sixers' playoff chances -- "Good Jimmy," the aw-shucks, hard-working, small-town Texas kid, eventually gave way to "Bad Jimmy," the moody, aloof, combative and uncompromising diva with delusions of grandeur.

In July, Butler turned down a four-year, $100 million extension from the Wolves. Then, at the start of camp, upon surveying the state of the franchise, he announced to his longtime friend and mentor, and now former Minnesota coach, Tom Thibodeau, "This s--- ain't it," and demanded a trade. And then, on Jimmy Butler Day 2, he punctuated the ultimatum by summarily losing it in his first practice since the trade demand, in which he proceeded to challenge the manhood of young stars Andrew Wiggins and Karl Anthony-Towns -- and everyone else in the organization except Crunch, the mascot.

"Jimmy's approach has always been not whether he's right or wrong. It's about, 'Are you giving everything you have?'" Marquis says. "And some people don't like to be challenged like that. Society is changing. The old days of coach Bobby Knight and Gen. George Patton being a fiery motivator are not what today is acceptable. Jimmy's got some real old-school toughness in him. And guys don't like to be questioned about their effort."

But the expletive-laced tantrum worked.

A month later, Butler was traded to Philadelphia.

If the past few years have taught us anything, it's this: Butler's All-NBA, two-way greatness and his volatility make him one of the most compelling figures in this year's NBA playoffs. The league waits, popcorn at the ready, to see which Jimmy will show up for the Sixers, both for the next couple of weeks (or months) and into the summer, when Butler will be among the NBA's highest-profile free agents.

"I'll be here in Philly for a little bit, and this will be the next chapter," Butler says. "We have the opportunity to do something special. We know what we can do. We talk about it every single day with the coaches in practice and when we watch ourselves on film. We know what we can do. We know. It's all about going out there now and supposedly showing the world, even though I highly doubt anyone on this team gives a damn what the world thinks anyway."

BUTLER'S IGNOMINIOUS RETURN to a cold and gray-skied Minneapolis begins with him getting booed at breakfast. The friendly-fire heckling from his Sixers teammates, meant to lighten the mood and prepare Butler for the real thing inside Target Center that night, continues through his routine Pilates session and the Sixers' shootaround at North Central University near downtown.

"Amir [Johnson] has been booing me since we woke up this morning," Butler says after the shootaround while reclining in the bleachers, his legs extended and his elbows out. Three hours before tipoff, after finishing his pregame routine inside a mostly empty Target Center, he sits courtside, striking the same relaxed pose. It's the forced body language of a villain who's eager for the world to know: I'm enjoying this.

That was an attitude Butler tried awfully hard to convey during his late-March return to Minnesota and his return the next week to Chicago, where he spent his first six NBA seasons. The emotional, late-season road trip to face the franchises Butler elevated and then incinerated served as a pre-playoff barometer of Butler's emotional state, his connection to his new teammates and, thus, the Sixers' playoff fate.

"Whether I'm home in Texas or in Chicago or Minnesota or Milwaukee, each place played a part, a major role, in me being the player and the person I am today," Butler says. "And I'm for real grateful for all of it."

Moments later, the Sixers tweet a picture of Butler's special Jordans, inscribed with the motto: You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. Later, when he is greeted by a thunderous round of boos and Carly Simon's "You're So Vain" during pregame introductions, Bad Jimmy smiles and shuffles onto the court like a prizefighter.

In private, though, there's that other Jimmy: After finishing his warm-up, before he took the court, Butler camped out in front of the Wolves' locker room, looking like a lost kid or a politician -- bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands clasped together -- waiting to greet his former teammates and coaches with a series of slightly awkward, conciliatory hugs.

"I'll be here in Philly for a little bit, and this will be the next chapter. We have the opportunity to do something special."

Jimmy Butler

It was classic Jimmy, a study in contrasts. As much as we want (or need, really) to define our elite athletes in oversimplified terms and roles -- good or bad, winner or loser, hero or villain -- the truth is they're just like the rest of us. Not all good and not all bad, but a combination of both on any given day. Butler's polarities, and his unwillingness to filter or hide them, are just far more pronounced than for the rest of us. In Minnesota, this left him seemingly oblivious to the wreckage he had wrought with the Wolves, who finished the season 12 games out of the eighth playoff spot and, since the All-Star break, ranked dead last in defense. "Being loved all the time, it's no fun that way," Butler says before the tip. "People will pay way more attention whenever they dislike you or hate you. Everything that you do they pay attention to because they have to nitpick something. I welcome it. I embrace it. Let's see what y'all can point out tonight."

Turns out, it's quite a bit. Like his personality, Butler's performance on the court in Minnesota vacillates wildly from moment to moment. He struggles on offense, to put it mildly, passing up open corner 3s and failing to generate any significant chances on his own. But rather than lashing out in frustration or losing interest, as Butler can do, he ratchets up his game elsewhere.

With the Sixers' best player, Joel Embiid, back in Philadelphia nursing a sore left knee, Butler takes over with 7 offensive rebounds, 5 assists and 2 steals -- the kind of dynamic performance on an otherwise off night that you'd expect to see from someone looking to land a max contract in the offseason. Butler finishes with 12 points on 4-of-17 shooting.

"Jimmy thrives under blankets of controversy and heat-of-the-battle type moments, and I greatly respect it," Philly coach Brett Brown says. "If you look at high-level competitors, it's part of their DNA, and it's certainly part of his DNA."

In search of a max contract this offseason and hoping to convince cash-rich teams such as the Lakers and Knicks that they could handle the unpredictable, supernatural force that is a fully vested Jimmy Butler, his Bad Jimmy alter ego was on its best behavior during the Sixers' last extended regular-season road trip. With a roster as good as Philly's, Butler is not required to be the face of the franchise (like he was in Chicago) or a mentor and motivator (like he was in Minnesota).

"Jimmy does seem to be having fun playing again," Marquis says. "The Sixers are fun to watch, and he seems to be happy. I know him well enough to know that there are bigger and better things ahead still for Jimmy."

Give Philly GM Elton Brand credit. He might have finally stumbled on a management formula that works with Butler: a $190 million carrot. Brand also has an escape clause, having made it clear that his expectations for this roster are nothing less than the Eastern Conference finals. Brown, Philly's coach, has smartly channeled Butler's intensity, and his need to have the ball in his hands, into the job of Sixers closer. "Whatever they need me to do, close games, guard people, I'm all for it," Butler says.

Still, there are times when Brown sounds a bit like a hostage negotiator, communicating to Butler through the media, keenly aware of a ticking time bomb on his roster. "Right from the get-go, Jimmy came in trying to fit in and be a good teammate," Brown says before the game in Minneapolis. "From that starting point, you've seen the growth of him, just putting his own thumbprint all over the place."

Late in the Minnesota game, it is squarely on the Wolves' windpipe. With 27 seconds left, Butler seals the win with two free throws and a self-satisfied sneer. Dejected Wolves fans boo him as they make their way out of the arena.

After the game, inside the Sixers' crowded locker room, Butler, his teammates and the gathered media are all tuned in to the final moments of the Elite Eight game between Purdue and Virginia. Instead of watching the NCAA game together on the big-screen TV, the Sixers bunch up in several smaller groups to follow the game on a handful of phones and computer screens. Maybe it's nothing. But the scene looks like the millennial, NBA version of the old quip about 26 Yankees leaving a team event in 26 cabs.

After Virginia seals the win, Butler signs his villain Jordans for a young fan before speaking briefly about his back -- "It's injured," he says -- and the reception in Minneapolis: "Not too bad, to tell you the truth."

Hearing this, Amir Johnson, standing in the far corner of the room, offers one last chorus of boos. Butler smiles. Today, on Jimmy Butler Day No. 3, he's in on the joke.

EARLY ON A SATURDAY morning in early April, the gym at Roosevelt University, located just a block from Chicago's Grant Park, is a beehive of activity. As the school's golf and softball teams file out of the building in their forest-green uniforms, weaving through a sidewalk crowded with tourists and toward buses waiting on Wabash Avenue, the Sixers slip in, almost unnoticed, and begin to prepare for their morning shootaround. Dressed in a funky, tie-dyed sweat suit, Butler stands off to the side, still nursing his bad back. With the Sixers nearing the end of their trip, the TV inside the Roosevelt student-athlete lounge is playing "The Blues Brothers" on a loop -- just in case the road-weary team needs a reminder of which city it's now in.

In 2011, the Chicago Bulls drafted Butler out of Marquette with the last pick in the first round. The oft-told story of Butler's path -- from homeless teen in tiny Tomball, Texas, to a three-time All-Star in Chicago -- is so remarkable that it bears repeating here, even for the umpteenth time. Butler says his mother came to him one day when he was 13 and said, "I don't like the look of you ... you gotta go." Butler spent the next few years couch-surfing with friends and relatives until a local family took him in and guided the quiet and damaged soul to Marquis at Tyler Junior College. "So many guys are ultra-talents, but they haven't had to fight through the kind of adversity Jimmy has," Marquis says.

"He has so much fight in him, and he takes criticism for that, but you have to walk a mile in his shoes to really understand Jimmy. Where a lot of people, when they bump into failure, would rather complain or call home or get on the Xbox or go back to their dorm and pout, Jimmy was the opposite: He went right back to the gym and went back to work."

During Butler's first six seasons in Chicago, that work ethic, along with his quiet, intense drive and his rare two-way skills, willed the Bulls back into the playoffs, and it appeared that Butler had finally found a permanent home in Chicago. But before the 2014-15 season, when the Bulls offered him a four-year deal worth more than $40 million, Butler balked. Something didn't feel right. He had always thrived by gambling on himself, he explained at the time. And he was right.

That season, he won the NBA's Most Improved Player Award and signed a max extension worth more than $90 million, completing his transformation from last guy on the bench to face of the franchise.

Something beyond his bank account and Q-rating had changed, though. The quiet kid who had spent his formative years dependent on the hospitality of strangers was now solidly in control of where he would reside and with whom he would play. Butler was never going to give anyone, let alone an NBA team, the power to say to him again, "We don't like the look of you ... you gotta go."

"Jimmy thrives under blankets of controversy and heat-of-the-battle type moments, and I greatly respect it." Sixers coach Brett Brown

In his final two seasons in Chicago, Butler's relationships with his teammates, his coaches and the Bulls' front office got so bad that at one point he was dressing in a different room at the United Center. "I guess being called the face of an organization isn't as good as I thought," Butler told the Chicago Sun-Times in 2017. "You know what I learned? Face of the team, eventually you're going to see the back of his head as he's leaving town, so no thanks."

When it came time for the Bulls to rebuild, they decided to do it without Butler, shipping him to Minnesota after the 2017 season. On Butler's way out of town, his trainer, Travelle Gaines, torched the Bulls on social media, claiming that they had the worst culture in the league and that he had "met drug dealers with better morals than their GM."

RETURNING TO CHICAGO in the final week of the 2018-19 regular season, Butler seems to be a changed man, poised to finally make a run deep into the playoffs while playing with his third team in as many years.

"This week was special for me," Butler says of his various homecomings. "I appreciate being able to play the game I love, and seeing all these familiar faces from every step of the way was special. We just have to go out there and play and do what we are capable of doing."

Back at the Sixers' shootaround at Roosevelt, watching 7-foot Embiid sink Steph Curry-like trick 3s from inside a doorway 40 feet from the basket (with his feet stuck in a pair of red canvas loafers), Butler acknowledges the Sixers' center as "one of the most unstoppable players in the league right here." The normally gregarious Embiid responds with a barely perceptible nod. There don't seem to be any problems or issues, per se, but these two Sixers don't seem especially close, either. In fact, they interact with each other like cabinmates on the first day of summer camp: polite strangers bracing for an impending adventure -- or disaster.

Later that day, inside the United Center, where the 60-loss Bulls try to distract frustrated fans before the game with nonstop cat memes broadcast on the scoreboard, Embiid eats his chicken-and-pasta dinner by himself, sitting in the hallway outside the Sixers' locker room, watching Final Four action.

Fast-forward another week, and nagging injuries continue to keep Embiid off the floor, with his bothersome left knee preventing him from playing in Games 1 and 3 of the Sixers' first-round series against the Nets.

As the intensity escalates throughout the series and Philly needs to find the edge it is missing, the Sixers don't just turn to Butler for help -- they seem to transform into him. Butler promised to fill any role the team needed -- and he delivers. In Game 1, he is a scorer, with a career-playoff-high 36 points. In Game 2, he takes on more of a point guard role, dishing the ball out for seven assists. When Ben Simmons withers early in the series, Butler demonstrates to his younger teammates how to embrace the role of the villain. "Oh, I'm all for physicality," he gleefully responds after increased contact and chirping from the Nets.

His timing couldn't be better. In the third quarter of Game 4, Embiid knocks Nets center Jarrett Allen to the ground, going for a block. Brooklyn's Jared Dudley, who has been under Simmons' skin the entire series, takes exception, ramming Embiid from the side. Embiid is a force in the game, ending the contest with 31 points, 16 rebounds and 6 blocks. But before he can retaliate, Butler springs into action, cross-checking Dudley into the first row of seats and sparking a melee that results in ejections and fines for Butler and Dudley -- and a 3-1 lead in the series for the Sixers.

Afterward, Butler, sitting next to Embiid, speaks to the media. The two giggle and finish each other's sentences, like new bestest buddies.

"I'm just here to protect my big fella," Butler says, patting Embiid on the arm. "If somebody runs up on him, I'm gonna push him again."

"And I'm gonna pay the fine," Embiid interjects, "'cause he had my back." The Sixers swingman pumps his fist.

It is, once again, Jimmy Butler's day.

And in that moment, with Philly one win from advancing in the playoffs with newfound swagger, the brashness for which Butler has always been criticized suddenly looks a lot different.

It's an outcome to Butler's season-long saga that no one envisioned.

Bad Jimmy just might be really good for Philadelphia.

A preliminary exam for Pittsburgh Pirates reliever Nick Burdi, who crumpled to the ground after throwing a 96 mph fastball Monday night, did not show any breaks or tears in his right arm, a source told ESPN's Jeff Passan on Tuesday.

Burdi will be sidelined indefinitely after an MRI revealed only a strained biceps tendon and flexor mass, the source told ESPN, but the diagnosis would mean no surgery.

A source told ESPN that Burdi would seek a second opinion to ensure that rehab is the preferred course of action and that he can avoid another procedure on his right arm after having Tommy John surgery in May 2017.

The 26-year-old Burdi clutched his arm while tears filled his eyes after throwing the pitch in the eighth inning of a 12-4 loss to the Arizona Diamondbacks. He wept while teammates tried to console him on the mound.

"It just takes the breath right out of you," Pittsburgh manager Clint Hurdle said after the game.

Burdi, a former prospect in the Twins system who has found success with the Pirates, had struck out 17 over 8 1/3 innings prior to Monday after making the team out of spring training.

The Associated Press contributed to this report.

Toronto Blue Jays top prospect Bo Bichette has a broken left hand, according to ESPN and multiple reports.

The injury, which Bichette suffered Monday in a minor league game, was first reported by The Athletic.

Bichette, a second-round draft pick in 2016 and the son of former major league star Dante Bichette, is seeking a second opinion on the injury, according to ESPN and reports.

Bichette, 21, recently was rated as baseball's No. 13 overall prospect by ESPN's Keith Law and is widely considered the second-best prospect in Toronto's system behind Vladimir Guerrero Jr.

Bichette is batting .250 with one home run in 14 games this season at Triple-A Buffalo. Primarily a shortstop, he batted .286 with 11 homers and 32 stolen bases last year at Double-A New Hampshire.

Boston Red Sox starting pitcher Nathan Eovaldi had elbow surgery Tuesday to remove a loose body in his right elbow, the team said.

Manager Alex Cora said the surgery went well, and the Red Sox said in a statement that Eovaldi "is expected to make a full return to pitching within six weeks."

Cora said Hector Velazquez, who is starting Tuesday's second game against the Detroit Tigers, will take Eovaldi's spot in the rotation for now.

When Eovaldi had similar surgery last season while with the Tampa Bay Rays, he missed two months.

The Red Sox placed Eovaldi, 29, on the injured list Saturday. He said he didn't experience any symptoms after his start against the New York Yankees last Wednesday, when he pitched six innings while allowing one unearned run, walking one and striking out six.

Eovaldi knew something was wrong when he could not straighten out his arm during the team's off day in Tampa Bay.

Eovaldi signed a four-year, $68 million deal in December. He is 3-3 with a 4.08 ERA in parts of two seasons in Boston. So far this year, the hard-throwing righty has a 6.00 ERA in four starts, allowing 14 runs in 21 innings pitched, striking out 16 and walking 11.

SAN DIEGO -- A quarter-mile north of center field, in a 19th-century building adorned by a faded green awning and two wooden wagon wheels, sits a charmingly antiquated bar named Tivoli. It stands alone, but it is surrounded by streets lined with those trendy, new craft breweries that have permeated the area in recent years, a relic amid the gentrification.

The Romero brothers -- Roy, Willy and Robert, all in their 70s -- own this place. When their parents bought it, for $10,000 up front in 1972, half of it was a warehouse, and the upstairs portion was a hotel that used to be a brothel. They spent $1 million on renovations more than 20 years ago, twice the amount they borrowed, and somehow sustained themselves through a time when so many similar spots were swallowed up.

"We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the baseball," Roy said while sipping a Corona on a Friday afternoon minutes before first pitch between the hometown San Diego Padres and the visiting Cincinnati Reds.

Not long ago, this was a rugged, blue-collar community dominated by the produce industry. Now the neighboring establishment is a boutique hotel. Across the street sits an Italian bistro. Next to it lies an extravagant nightclub. Places such as these -- and countless others that make up the East Village portion of the Gaslamp Quarter, the downtown section of San Diego -- began sprouting in the wake of Petco Park's opening in 2004.

The people here have spent 15 years waiting for a time such as this, when the local baseball team could give them something real, something sustainable, to get excited about.

The Padres began the season with the consensus best farm system in the industry, signaling hope for the future. They signed Manny Machado to a $300 million contract, bringing excitement to the present. They ignored industry norms by placing Chris Paddack and Fernando Tatis Jr. on the Opening Day roster, sending a resounding message about their intentions.

The enthusiasm has been noticeable, if not yet overwhelming. Tivoli generated upward of $20,000 in revenue for the March 28 game against the San Francisco Giants, a personal record for Opening Day.

"The Giants fans didn't take it over," Roy noted. "Usually they would."

The Romero brothers are longtime Padres fans, dating to the days when Qualcomm Stadium ran so empty that the doors would open to outsiders in the middle of games.

They recalled how this city came alive during the World Series run of 1998. They remembered the decorated names that came through -- Kevin Brown, Gary Sheffield, Ken Caminiti, Rollie Fingers, Steve Garvey -- and how it never led to much of anything. They brought up the economic boost that Petco Park created and the general apathy that followed it, a product of 12 consecutive seasons without playoff baseball.

The Padres are probably at least a year away from legitimate contention, but they see an immediate opportunity in front of them. They see a big city with a bustling downtown and a beautiful ballpark nestled in the heart of it. They see a sports landscape still reeling from the Chargers' departure to L.A. and a chance to fill some of the void that team left behind. They see the possibility of becoming the definitive franchise in a major metropolis, not unlike what the NBA's Spurs have carved out for themselves through sustained winning in San Antonio.

Willy compared the Machado signing to "somebody throwing you a life preserver when you're sinking."

Behind the bar, outside a space decorated by antique chandeliers and century-old photographs, sits a banner that reads "This Could Be The Season." It made Roy think about the possibility of the Padres someday winning the World Series and capturing the only major San Diego title besides that 1963 AFL championship few even know about.

"This town," Roy said, "would go crazy."

Machado will readily acknowledge that the Padres were not his first choice, largely because he never imagined them being able to afford him. They didn't reach out until the middle of January and didn't thrust themselves into the conversation until spring training was nearing. When negotiations got serious, Machado tried to learn everything he could about the organization as quickly as possible.

On most days that first week, when his stint with the Padres was fresh enough for doubt to creep in, he went home and told his wife something to the effect of "This is where we need to be."

"Every day," Machado said, "it just got better and better."

Machado, speaking to ESPN near the end of March, said he was impressed by the talented young players he met during camp and became intrigued by the possibility of mentoring some of them. He admitted that it was "tough" to move from shortstop, his preferred position, and return to third base, his better position. But he has since embraced it.

"I was only going to do it for the right situation," Machado said, "and this is the right situation."

It's the right situation because of Tatis, one of the industry's brightest prospects, who has validated the hype with a .291/.360/.595 slash line through his first 22 major league games. Half a decade ago, Tatis identified Machado as a player he could model his game after. He was tall like him, a shortstop like him, and he hit and played defense like him.

"We have kind of the same game," Tatis said. "I'm just a little bit faster."

Padres manager Andy Green was asked about the Machado-Tatis dynamic and noted that they "have fun," which can at times be more important than actual instruction. He compared it to the playful relationship Elvis Andrus and Adrian Beltre shared on the Texas Rangers.

"I have no clue what they're saying 90 percent of the time," Green said, "but you can see the emotions coming off. They're enjoying being next to each other, they're enjoying playing together and they're enjoying challenging each other. They're trying to one-up one another. And it goes a long way. That over everything else."

Machado and Tatis share an agency, MVP Sports Group, which arranged for the two of them to meet over dinner for the first time last summer in Washington, D.C. Machado was there for the All-Star Game; Tatis was taking part in the Futures Game. They sat next to each other, talked throughout the night, stayed in touch thereafter and became teammates seven months later.

Tatis was initially devastated when the Chicago White Sox traded him in June 2016. He was 17 years old and predictably emotional. But now he is on a team with his idol during one of the most exciting stretches in franchise history.

"What can I say? Small world, small game," Tatis said. "I think God has a perfect plan for everybody."

When Major League Baseball released its list of the 20 most popular jerseys on Opening Day, Machado's ranked 12th, marking the first time that a Padres player had been mentioned.

The Machado announcement on Feb. 19 prompted Padres ticket sales to nearly triple, according to numbers released by StubHub. Since then, the team has experienced a 44 percent increase in ticket sales from last season, representing the league's second-largest spike. The Padres' spring training games were the highest rated in Fox Sports San Diego history; the first road trip of 2019 outrated the first road trip of 2018 by 85 percent.

Craig Stammen, a reliever in his third year with the Padres, has noticed a more engaged, invested home crowd this season, evidenced by the boos that filled Petco Park during the late stages of a 10-3 loss to the Arizona Diamondbacks on April 1. The prior series, Stammen said, marked "the first time the Giants fans were drowned out within Petco Park" in his stint with the team.

San Diego is a city of transplants. There is a segment of serious baseball fans within it, but it's not as large as one would hope for such a populous region. The culture is laid-back, and the losing has augmented indifference. Tony Gwynn and Trevor Hoffman have statues outside Petco Park, but no other player comes close to igniting the reaction -- good or bad -- that Machado generates.

The Padres made a landmark signing last year by luring Eric Hosmer with an eight-year, $144 million contract, and Kevin Acee, a former San Diego Union-Tribune columnist who now exclusively covers the Padres, remembers how little the fans cared when his name was announced on Opening Day.

"That's San Diego," Acee said. "Big, little town or little, big town -- whatever you want, they both apply."

Padres history is littered with moments when big-name players were brought in for potential championship runs that preceded fire sales. It happened in the 1980s, a spending spree highlighted by the additions of Graig Nettles and Goose Gossage. And in the early '90s, when Sheffield and Fred McGriff came on board. And in the mid-'90s, with Caminiti and Brown. And just recently, when general manager A.J. Preller added Matt Kemp, Justin Upton, James Shields and Craig Kimbrel from 2014 to 2015, only to part with all of them after back-to-back sub-.500 seasons.

The foundation that was frantically built in the aftermath was the type that made Acee, and so many others, believe this time might be different.

The Machado signing validated that thinking.

"What's always happened here is the Padres lose their Manny Machados," Acee said. "That's what we had become accustomed to."

Machado joined the Padres a little early in their trajectory, but he's only 26, which means he should still be an elite player when the Padres' prospects begin to make an impact at the major league level. Tatis, acquired in exchange for Shields, might already be just as good. The starting rotation is a problem now, but the farm system boasts the likes of MacKenzie Gore, Luis Patino, Adrian Morejon and Michel Baez, who should soon join Paddack and pay dividends.

Erik Greupner, the Padres' president of business operations, mentioned the "tremendous opportunity" presented by the Chargers' departure in 2017 but also the "tremendous obligation" that came with it.

It's one Machado already knows about.

"We can bring something very special to the city of San Diego," he said. "It's a city that's been waiting for a championship for a very long time. We're obviously the only professional team there now, so we're the main attraction. Everyone wants to come see us play. So if we can come up here, do something special and bring a championship to the city, I think the city's going to erupt."

Damion Easley spent the 2008 season playing alongside Fernando Tatis Sr. on the New York Mets. He was introduced to Tatis' son in the middle of 2016, in his role of rehabbing Padres players at the team's facility in Peoria, Arizona. The organization's Arizona League team played out of there, and Easley, a major league infielder for 17 years, worked closely with Tatis Jr. that summer. He noticed the loose limbs, the natural athleticism and the easy power that were already becoming obvious, and he also saw what he considered "an advanced mind."

Still, his expectations were tempered.

"At that level, when they're young, you see a lot of ability in a lot of different guys," Easley said. "You just wonder if it's going to mold into some consistency and if it's going to turn into a weapon. And each year, he got better. Each year, he got better and better and more consistent."

A longtime scout who covers the National League West identified "ability to adjust" as Tatis' best attribute, a skill Easley deemed the most critical to sustained success. Green is already starting to see glimpses. Tatis put together three consecutive poor at-bats against the Colorado Rockies on Tuesday. In his fourth, he waited on an outside-corner fastball and hit an opposite-field line drive off the fence.

Tatis was moved from sixth to first in the batting order for the following game in hopes of sparking a Padres offense that sported a .300 on-base percentage. He saw 14 pitches in his first two plate appearances, lining a single up the middle in the first inning and taking a borderline pitch for a caught-looking strikeout in his second. PITCHf/x showed that it might have been an inch low and away.

"I see a big league hitter right now," Easley said. "You forget that he's only 20 years old because he goes about it the right way. He goes about it like a major league hitter, not a 20-year-old. You watch him and you see composure. You don't see panic."

The initial surge has faded. The Padres, owners of the sport's youngest roster, began the 2019 season with 11 wins in their first 16 games, then rode a six-game losing streak that wasn't snapped until Sunday. The offense, besides Tatis, has struggled. The rotation, Paddack included, has taken its lumps. The team's record is 12-11, but its run differential is minus-17, signaling looming trouble.

A block away from Petco Park sits one of those new gastropubs, Bub's at the Ballpark, considered the closest sports bar to the Padres' home stadium. Thirty-two flat-screen TVs are sprinkled throughout the modern-industrial venue. On this particular Friday night, with the NBA and NHL playoffs in full steam, seven of them are turned to Padres-Reds, including the two largest. Only a couple of tables are empty.

The general manager of this place, Taylor McCutcheon, said Bub's would generate somewhere in the neighborhood of $20,000 on a typical Friday during baseball season. On this night, with a game against a relatively unpopular team, McCutcheon projected upward of $27,000.

"It's a big bump for us," he said.

McCutcheon is a 30-year-old who was raised in San Diego and identifies as a lifelong Padres fan. He hasn't been this excited about the team in 20 years and said the energy in downtown San Diego has rivaled what he experienced when the area hosted the All-Star Game three seasons ago.

McCutcheon talked about how defeating it was to see his team out of contention by that point each season and not have another professional team to root for. He called 2019 "a growing year" but added that the fan base holds "big hope for next year."

Someday, he believes, the Padres might own this city.

"It's going to take more years like this. They have to keep that energy and momentum going," McCutcheon said. "But everybody I talk to is rooting for them. Everybody that comes into this bar is very, very excited. People want to go to the games. People want something to do. They just have to win a little."

British heptathletes among athletes announced for Hypomeeting on May 25-26

Katarina Johnson-Thompson and Niamh Emerson are to compete at next month’s Hypomeeting in Götzis as they make their fourth and first appearances respectively at the IAAF Combined Events Challenge meeting.

Commonwealth champion Johnson-Thompson claimed victory in Götzis in 2014 before finishing sixth two years later.

In 2017 she finished fourth in one of the greatest ever heptathlon competitions as Olympic champion Nafissatou Thiam scored 7013 points to take the title ahead of Carolin Schäfer and Laura Ikauniece-Admidiņa, who both surpassed 6800 points, and Johnson-Thompson, who set a PB of 6691 points.

The British world indoor and two-time European indoor pentathlon champion went on to improve her heptathlon PB to 6759 points when securing European silver last year.

Emerson, who won the world under-20 heptathlon title with a PB of 6253 last summer, claimed Commonwealth bronze behind Johnson-Thompson on the Gold Coast before winning pentathlon silver in Glasgow behind her team-mate at the European Indoors.

Joining them in Götzis on May 25-26 will be Canada’s defending Hypomeeting decathlon champion Damian Warner, who targets a fifth victory, plus Austria’s Sarah Lagger, Verena Preiner and Dominik Distelberger.

World number two Simona Halep has withdrawn from the Stuttgart Open with a hip injury.

The 27-year-old suffered the injury during her win over Caroline Garcia in Romania's Fed Cup defeat by France on Sunday.

But Halep is hopeful she will be fit for next month's tournaments in Madrid and Rome before defending her French Open title from 26 May.

"If I'm not 100%, I don't want to step on the court," Halep said.

"I'm also exhausted mentally because I gave my everything in that tie but unfortunately we couldn't win.

"That's why I decided to pull out, because I have to think about my health first.

"I've been very sad the last two days. I've been through these moments many times, so I know how to handle it. I just need to recover mentally and physically and then just start again."

Spain's world number 19 Garbine Muguruza has also had to pull out of Stuttgart through illness.