2 hours ago
|May 3, 2012|
|The Day the Muscles Died.|
At 7:36pm last night, the texts started coming in.
I didn't know what was going on, but I could feel my phone going into conniption fits, seizuring violently in my bag, and I knew it wasn't good. The odds of everyone trying to contact me at once because there was an APB that Kris Pollina had just won the Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes, were not very high.
On the other hand, the odds that something terrible happened, were galactically probable.
|Mariano Rivera the cat weirdly reenacts the |
moment when disaster struck.
"I got some bad news for you. Well, bad depending on who you ask." That was from Ollie, and it was the first thing I saw.
Then the next one I looked at: "Rivera blew out his knee."
They just kept getting worse as more information came out.
"ACL tear and meniscus tear."
"ACL tear and meniscus tear and out for the season."
"ACL tear and meniscus tear and out for the season and possible career ender."
It was like that camp game you play when rain cancels instructional swim and other outdoor activities and you're forced to sit in the lodge and go around in a circle saying, "I'm going on a picnic and I'm bringing..."
How could this happen?? Shagging fly balls. One of the finest specimens of athletic prowess in the game and that's how it neutralized him.
"This is how the world ends. Not with a bang, but with a whimper." -T.S. Eliot
This is how the world ends. Not with a retirement, but with an ACL tear.
I don't really think, however, that we've seen the last of Mariano Rivera. There is not a Link-with-wooden-sword's chance in a labyrinth that Mo is ending his legendary career like this.
I mean, part of me is a tiny bit concerned that it may be like the end of "A League of Their Own" when Geena Davis' character just kind of checks out and loses the game for them because she's already mentally halfway back to canoodling with her back-from-war husband.
|No sword. No chance.|
THIS ISN'T A SIGN, MO. THIS IS JUST A BUMP IN THE ROAD. PLEASE DON'T LEAVE US. PLEASE.
One time I was trying to sleep (weird, I know) but I couldn't because there was some chick on 83rd street keeping me awake. Five flights up and I could still hear her bawling to some dude about how this wasn't the end, how she loved him, and she needed him, and please let's make it work because she knows that they're meant for each other! This went on for about 2 hours before angrier heads prevailed and a chorus of shutthefuckup's started pouring down from the buildings. (Or, as one irritated dude put it, "Go get some ice cream and get over it, cow!")
Anyways, now I know how that chick felt.
I'm wearing my Mo jersey today. It's horrible. Every Yankee fan in NY is walking around in a daze today, there's a lot of hands being put on shoulders, coupled with sympathetic head shakings, and punctuated with the "I..I..there are no words. I can't talk about it."
Anyways, do we really need to recap the game here? Let's put things in perspective. The Yankees have much bigger fish to fry than the fact they've just dropped 3 straight to the worst teams in the world.
They have bigger fish to fry than the fact they are roughly 1 for 239 with RISP.
Than the fact their clutch hitting is as formidable as a French poodle.
Than the fact every day a new injury falls upon them.
Bigger fish than their pitching staff that mirrors a reality show where one person gets the boot every week.
Bigger fish than their vague yet discernible deflation and discouragement.
Mariano Rivera, the best closer in baseball, is down for the count. Predictably, there are those fans who are rejoicing (as if THAT was why your team sucks, because once a month a fraction of your lineup has to face him). They're not rejoicing because this gives them the chance to finally ascend in the standings. They're rejoicing because the Yankees are hurt.
"Only cowards insult injured majesty." -Aesop
They'll get through this. I don't know how, but at this point, our only recourse is to think of that singular line in the Old Man and the Sea. The only thing I got out of that book, really. (Sad, but true.)
|Mo would've wanted it that way.|