It took me 10 years to stop spelling your name with only three t's. You can't imagine how difficult it was. Remember how they strapped Malcolm McDowell into a chair and gave him nausea pills in "A Clockwork Orange?" That's how it was for me. But I persisted and finally started spelling your name correctly. And now you're leaving?No.
No, no, no, no, no.
Andy... can I call you Andy? No? OK... Mr. Pettitte... you may think you'll never have to worry about money, and the truth is, you're better off than 99 percent of the stiffs who'll be cleaning your pool and holding your ankles during situps. But -- and trust me on this -- there will come a time when you wish you had pitched one more year with the New York Yankees.
Did I say one more year? My bad. Three more months: August, September and October. That's all. Twelve weeks. 100 days. Soft-tossing starts in May. A minor league stint in July. (You can stay in Syracuse, while passing through; my family will put you up.) Then hit The Show. And bank $5 million. That's pitching for a pennant. That's pitching in the post-season. That's pitching for Cooperstown (which you can visit whiile passing through Syracuse; I'll buy your admission -- with the understanding that you'll never need to pay it again.)
What do I ask? Simply this...
When you announce your retirement tomorrow, when the sportswriters ask -- as they inevitably will -- "Is this absolute?" Simply say the truth about this world: Nothing is absolute. You never say never. You're retiring -- for now. And maybe around June 1... well... soft-tossing.
They say life affords you no second act. Or maybe it's the third, I'm not sure. You've had two acts as a Yankee. What you haven't had is the finale, the closing number. Last year wasn't it.
One more time, sir. After all, I am spelling your name correctly. No easy feat, when you're strapped into a chair and preparing to watch Bartolo Colon.
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1 comment:
The pink is a nice touch.
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