Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Posted by el duque at 2:37 PM
For starters, you surely know this letter is overdue. I've hesitated to write it, because it's only April. But after last night, you must know the reality of what I'm about to say...
It. Is. Ovah.
Yes. It's no longer 2013. And what a year that was! Your city healed from tragedy. Your aging stars returned to form. Your rookies emerged. Your team, your town, and your personal self-image rose to dizzying new heights. This was your Hoosiers, your Remember the Titans, your Brian's Song and - though I really hate to say it - your Pride of the Yankees season. You could do no wrong. When you put on a Hawaiian shirt, everybody thought you were Don frickin' Ho.
And now... It. Is. Ovah.
We both know Dustin Pedroia's body won't make it through 2014, that Big Papi looks like he's eaten several small children, and that Jackie Bradley Jr. is no Jacoby Ellsbury. You spent last winter telling yourself Xander Bogaerts will be a star - and he might be, someday - but this year, he's still learning. This year, Beanie Boy, you're facing a long downhill slog.
Believe me, we Yankee fans know what it's like. You've got your fingers clawing hard into the chalkboard, making that loud grating squeal. And it's only April. You'll be digging into that slate board for another four months. By July, your fingers will be bleeding. You'll have a week or two when everything clicks, and you think it's still 2013, and you're actually going to climb that wall... But the sound of those fingernails turning into pulp... that's what will get you. That's what will make you finally let go.
You had a good year. It was a great team. Be thankful. Tip the waitress. Toast the chef. Keep the scrapbook handy. And deal with the reality.
It. Is. Ovah.