For no apparent reason today, I thought/daydreamed of the fateful day in June when Roy Halladay makes his return to Toronto. Specifically the video tribute and its aftermath. The build-up is pretty funny to think about: Jays PR staffer lisases with Phillies PR staffer, they fight to the death. Winner humbly approaches Halladay with the Jays desire to honor his legacy. Halladay glares, unblinking, for 348 seconds. PR staffer pees pants, waits for reply. Halladay relents, P.R. flak resigns and joins the Peace Corps.
My mind's eye kicked my tear ducts in the balls by presenting me with images of the actual scene. Imagine all the current Jays standing on the top step; applauding the former ace. The crowd, slowly rising to their feet as they realize what's going on. Half watching the screen, reliving moments of individual greatness that will live much longer that a handful of 80 wins seasons in the hearts of minds of those present.
The other half crane their necks as the reluctant star emerges from the alien visitor's dugout, doffing his hat and waving to the now-roaring crowd. The Phillies players, generally going about their business, stopp to appreciate their new ace and what he meant to his former home.
Then he'll sit back down in the dugout and the game will go on. And that will be it. It might end up worse if he gets a start in Toronto; no way is Roy Halladay breaking character to wave to the adoring throngs when his brain is consumed with the best places to throw a cutter to retire Vernon Wells.
Images courtesy of Reuters via Daylife and Texas Finn via Flickr.