my life as a nomad

letter to a traitor

dear johnny damon,

i remember my first baseball card that i ever got that had you on it. you shared the spotlight with ken griffey jr., and there were comparisons drawn between your game and his. your future in MLB was predicted to be a very bright one.

aside from that baseball card, there now exists no comparison between you and the venerable mr. griffey.

for one, there's your game. your power stroke never developed quite like was originally projected, but that's not necessarily a knock on your current skill set. instead of becoming a power hitter, you turned into one of the premier leadoff hitters and center fielders in the game of baseball today. not a bad feat.

but the major discrepancy, which will casue me to search through my baseball cards tomorrow morning until i find that ill-fated card which you share with mr. griffey and then symbolically burn it into ashes, is the fact that you have not a shred of respect for the concept of legend, or loyalty, or anything like that. i know what you're thinking... "oh, ken griffey didn't stay with seattle, he ended up signing with the reds! you stupid moron." true... but ask yourself the question: why did he sign with the reds?

it wasn't about money.

it wasn't about potential endorsement deals.

it was all about legacy.

you had the chance to leave behind a special mark in the storied history of baseball. you were one of the chosen few, the proud vanquishers who reversed the tides of history and sent the yankees home early for winter break, instead of the other way around.

the true believers had faith in you.

sure, the red sox didn't quite match the offer that the yankees put on the table. and as a result, you're going to be making a couple million dollars more a year in new york than you would have in boston. but at what cost? instead of endearing yourself to a generation of red sox fans, you now sit firmly on the fence between the two worlds. and fence sitting will give you nothing except a sore butt.

you helped us beat the yankees. you were the caveman, our hero in center field. you played with reckless abandon, with a fervor and tenacity that led us to believe you loved this game, this place, this team, more than anything else.

guess not.

now you're nothing but another sellout, chasing after some extra cash at the expense of your legacy, while simultaneously breaking the hearts of millions of red sox fans.

ask jason giambi how it's turned out for him in new york. ask alex rodriguez how many titles he's won with the yankees. ask george steinbrenner if he'll let you keep your hair (forget about the beard... it's a lost cause). ask that team how it feels to be remembered as the only team in the history of MLB to blow a 3-game lead in the postseason. ask if their throats still hurt from the choking that you helped to induce.

you were the caveman. you were one of the loveable idiots, the "cowboy up" gang, the 25 men who brought about the impossible dream.

not anymore.

now you're a yankee...


which is why i say good bye, and good riddance. i hope you had fun in boston while you still had a soul (before you sold it)




(p.s.- i think your book stinks.)



-noonan-

posted by Patrick @ 11:15 PM