Man, I can’t tell you how much Jay Wrizight loves a happy ending. They make you feel soooo good. It’s easier to jump outta bed and go to work. In fact, most any task is easier after a happy ending. You feel alive. Oh wait, c’mon now. This is a baseball blog.
Just last week, our very own Drunk Phils writer, Katie Casey, wrote a great piece. She used the analogy of us fans being the creepy stalker who can’t let go of a vacation fling. I thought it was very fitting. Over the past year, outside of Phillies players, the number one player mentioned to me in person, over the phone or on Facebook was Cliff Lee. Not Tim Lincecum who got busted for pot then helped the Giants bust the Phillies right out of the playoffs. Not Albert Pujols, the best position player in baseball, who played 8 games verses the Phillies. Not David Wright who plays for our mortal archenemies, the Mets. The Fightins had to deal with Wright 18 times. Nope. Cliff Lee who played exactly ZERO games against the Phillies. Sure, he played here earlier in his career. The year prior, or actually, half the prior year.
Seventeen games are all Cliff Lee played here. Seventeen. Yet, he is a Philadelphia legend. Legend. People will tell their grandkids about the Great Clifton Phifer Lee. How he was pinpoint accurate and a playoff beast. Books will be written about his nonchalant catch in the World Series or how his Phillies cap was missing the metal beanie. (Ok. I know I’m probably gonna have to write that one.) Then, the unthinkable. Ruben Amaro Jr. traded Cliff to Seattle on the same day they acquired Roy Halladay. I was always able to find comfort in the belief that the Phillies were never going to have both. It wasn’t their intention when the made the move for Halladay. Lee’s contract was up at the end of the year and since Seattle was trying to set the record for most inept offense in history, Cliff was sent to Texas. Texas made the World Series. Two in a row for our boy, Cliff. It just added to the clamoring for his return, but it was like the time you went to the car show and saw the Bugatti Veyron. You said you wanted one but you had no chance of getting it. It seemed like a two horse race between the Yankees and the Rangers. Then outta nowhere, it gets announced Cliff Lee is taking less money to play for the Phillies. LESS. The legend grows.
So maybe we’re not the creepy stalker but rather the awkward dorks that unrealistically get the smoking hot chick only to lose her. Only to, even more unrealistically, woo her back. Just remember, this is baseball and you still have to play the games. The happy ending comes when the fairy god G.M. slips a huge fucking ring on the fingers of Big Roy, Cole, Little Roy and our high school crush, Cliff.
See ya at the washy-wash……uh I mean ballpark!