Last night, for reasons I'll need therapy to understand, I interrupted the regular flow of my life - I'm talking artistic activities, such as monitoring Mike Rowe voiceovers for Shark Week - to stand by the TV and watch A-Rod come to bat.
Four times. Three strikeouts. One pop fly to right. Big swings. Not a clue. The long walk back to the dugout. The glance over his shoulder. Nothing to show for it.
Yep, he's back, all right. Be careful what you wish for. The juju gods love practical jokes.
Listen: I never really thought A-Rod could return to greatness. Two major hip reconstructions and the ravages of age are too much. But Monday night in Chicago, he was swinging hard and creating a stir - boos and everything - and I briefly bought into the notion that A-Rod is A-Rod, and his mere presence could change the Yankee fortunes.
What a joke. Seriously: I'm too old to be so naive. But that's what we fans do, eh? We believe. In the face of reality, in the jaws of every loss, we somehow gin up hopes that Phil Hughes will turn it around, or that Ichiro will find a light. Idiots. Fools. That's what we are. Suckers.
Last night, A-Rod looked made of tin. He looked like the old man that he is, as did Vernon Wells, Ichiro, Hafner and the others - even Jeter and - God I hate to say this - Mariano, of late. So here we are, needing to win 35 out of 45 games to salvage this season, this miserable hopeless season. If it were the Giants of the NFL, I'd start rooting for the higher draft pick. And maybe that's where we should start putting our juju.
God, he looks old. He looks sad. In the span of a week, my hopes for his return have shrunken like Kanye West's post-Kardashian reputation.
Still, I can't bring myself to hate him. He looks so alone. He looks so lost. When I see him out there - yeah, I know he's rich, obnoxious, blablablah - but I see a bull in a ring with four swords sticking out of his neck, and a seething crowd that is demanding blood. They'll revel in his demise. They cheered his beaning in Chicago, and we never even retaliated.
How bad will it get when his average is under .200? Stay tuned.
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4 comments:
I was saddened and a little shocked by the boos for A-Rod last night, and there were many. Maybe they were all the Tiger fans, I thought and of those, there were WAY too many. But no. The enthusiastic hate on some fan's faces unsettled me. For me, Bud has turned A-Rod into a sympathetic character all to cover over what he allowed in MLB after the strike to "save" the game (and I wonder, when will the NFL get theirs?). Please, A-Rod. Just make contact. then, strike 3. very, very sad.
And then there was Mo. The win was great but the blown save was almost too much for this fan to bear. The shock of seeing that towering shot (with 2 outs and 2 strikes), I can't adequately describe. And it hit me. Hard. The win didn't matter. We really are done. Tomato cans, as you guys say. but no matter what happens, I'll always root for our boys. always.
I left the TV after his first AB. You know, the guy IS human, Selig's attempts to portray as otherwise to the contrary. He's coming back to the Stadium for the first time, after all this crap in the media about Biobudesis and his bad wardrobe choices. He walks in the door and the Yankees slap him with a hand-written notice that he'll be fined for showing his MRI to a second doctor without telling them. Then he gets booed by people who look like they stayed up four days smoking Walter White meth to get ready. I mean, how much can a person take? No wonder he sucked. And all that on top of however he might have felt physically with his titanium hips and who knows what else.
Yeah, this team is more than done (although I still like Ichiro and Uberbay), but whatever promise Alex showed in Chicago may have died there after all the crap the Yankees organization and fans have heaped on him.
By the way, is there any way we can initiate random drug testing for people entering the Stadium? I swear, some of those guys looked like their eyes were going to pop right out of their skulls.
John M: I can imagine their faces, filmed in slow-mo. The eyes bugging. the spittle flying. the arms flailing.
some fans, huh?
Kanye's most recent post-Kardashian album was universally critically acclaimed btw.
The man may be an idiot but he still retains the reputation of pushing musical boundaries.
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