It will probably hold interest to only a few, to only the die-hard dreamers out there who cry buckets at every dang showing of “Field of Dreams.”
I offer it to you today rather selfishly. I needed to write it, so I did. Apologies..
Tomorrow, I will return to more on-point (i.e. stuff that really matters) issues. So, please enjoy or feel free to look away…
I just watched Joe Maddon being introduced as the Chicago Cubs new manager.
You have to understand something about me. I am loyal to a bloody fault to my chosen sports teams. If you are one of the very few organizations to find your way on to the back, front or top of my personal wardrobe, you have my heart.
Like forever and an endless day.
Case in point:
Die-hard Cubs fan since 1982.
Die-hard Rays fan since 2010… and yes you can be a “die-hard” fan after only 4 years. Pull for a team who plays 82 games at the sadly and cavernously empty Trop and it’s a crash course in true love. Rays fans are few and far between, but we are scrappers with thunderous hearts.
The perennially cash-strapped Tampa Bay Rays had to trade their ace (David Price and his dog Astro) away this summer simply because there was no money in the till to keep such talent. It was a blow, but an expected one.
Then our GM left for to take over the Dodgers.
Then Joe Maddon, our quirky, brilliant, big-hearted manager, opted out of his contract in October. That blow landed in the gut and I, for one, am still gasping. It was unexpected, though sadly and perfectly understandable.
The Rays organization has many hearts, but Joe and David were two of the fiercest.
So, when I heard the news that my beloved Cubs (perennial losers… 107 years worth of perennial losing) had jumped on the unexpected opportunity of hiring Joe Maddon my world went a little bright and awkwardly brilliant for a moment.
A bittersweet orgasm.
Joe putting on a Cubs hat was just that to this die-harder.
I’m childishly hopeful, bordering on the giddy.
I’m either going to puke or giggle madly.
Maybe I’ll do a little of both.
There’s a reason they call it die-hard, folks.