On his 30th birthday, Matt Kemp grows better with age

LOS ANGELES – Matt Kemp turned 30 on Tuesday, 30 being the age in which one relinquishes the ease and alibis of youth.

So long, phenom. See ya later, impulsiveness. And yeah, goodbye, legs.

At 30, one is expected to have some things figured out. It's not mandatory or anything, but that first number rolls over and the rest of the world inquires, "OK, so, whatcha got?"

Kemp arrived in Los Angeles at 21, all oversized feet and hands, and he was good. Then he dated that singer. Then he was great. Then he was rich. Then he started running into things. And then nobody knew what to think, 'cuz he seemed mad a lot, and maybe that was all the rumors he'd be traded – or should be traded – because, they said, he'd never be great again. Then he wasn't a center fielder anymore, and that didn't appear to sit very well, and he seemed even madder, and there arose a not unreasonable question about whether Matt Kemp could ever truly be happy again – or productive again, or healthy again – in Los Angeles, as a Dodger.

There you go, almost nine years in a single paragraph.

"Time goes by fast, man," he said.

A big blue balloon hovered near his locker Tuesday afternoon. Beneath the balloon, in a little basket, were cookies. Somebody remembered.

"No, I don't feel old," he said, "but I feel old."

He smiled. He's done some of that lately. After some debate over where he fit here, we have the answer: He's the cleanup hitter and the right fielder. And maybe he's not the best player in the game, the way many thought of him not that long ago, but on a given night he can be the best player on the field, even one he shares with Yasiel Puig.

Since the All-Star break, he's batted .304. In September, he's batted .308 with eight home runs and 22 RBI, including the two-run homer he hit Tuesday night off Madison Bumgarner that ultimately beat the San Francisco Giants, 4-2. On the second day of fall, the Dodgers were a win – or a Giants loss – from the NL West title, their second in two seasons, and they'll give the ball to Clayton Kershaw on Wednesday night.

That probably means the Dodgers have survived the summer. Just Monday, their manager, Don Mattingly, the man Kemp used to lovingly call "Donnie B," granted that this version of the Dodgers has been a handful. He said there'd been "turmoil." He said it'd been "tedious."

"But," Mattingly said, "it's the job."

Part of it was getting Kemp upright, getting him hitting, getting him involved. Some of it was allowing for the time it would take for Kemp to feel strong over his ankle again and limber through his shoulder again. And some of it was saving the season in the meantime. So they waited, and Kemp crept up on something like the player he was when whole, and coming down the stretch Kemp has been the best player on the field on plenty of nights. Maybe he's not the carefree, multi-tooled player he was a few years back, when he was 26 going on 27, and maybe he carries the drama of a hard, tumultuous, sometimes tedious season on his shoulders, but he has hit 30 with some things figured out.

"I've grown in a lot of ways," he said. "I mean, you just mature as an adult, or as a baseball player, as everything. You learn from your mistakes. At 30 – 30! – I'm still learning."

Such as…

"Nothing's ever perfect," he said. "Nothing ever happens the way you want it to happen."

There are moments, though. The way he stays inside a good fastball. The way he finishes high, the bat pointed to the stars, his face raised in expectation. The way he hammered the two-ball fastball from Bumgarner on Tuesday night, drove it to center field, and then in that leggy, leaning stride carried a three-run lead into a bubbly dugout.

It hasn't been easy. He hasn't made it look easy. There are players who derive their production from their attitude. Others get their attitude from their production. Then, it's no fun to be hurt, and it's no fun to reach for a swing or a gear and come back empty, and to be told for perhaps the first time in your life you're just not good enough, and to show up one day and find yourself batting sixth and playing left field.

"It's tough on your mind, too," he said. "You don't know. …The first part of the year was kind of confusing.

"Things happen. People handle it in different ways."

Kemp caught the 27th out Tuesday night in right field. He popped his chest with his right hand. The crowd carried him off, then he was drenched with a bucketful of something cold and wet, and then he was dressed and ready to go. It'd been a full day. He'd wrapped up an enraged Puig before Puig could chase Bumgarner for hitting him – Puig – with a pitch, and he'd homered, and they'd won, and they'd gotten a day closer to October.

He seemed happy. He seemed better.

"But," he said, "I'm 30 though. Dang."

And he laughed. So long, 20s.

More MLB coverage: