Tuesday, February 2, 2010
What Were You Doing?
On your 22nd birthday. Likely reveling in the awesomeness of youth; imbibing alcohol heavily and fooling around with a girl out of your league. A student winding down your undergrad studies perhaps. Wearing your unemployment beard with pride while wearily considering another night at a local bar named for animal anatomy.
What you certainly WERE NOT doing on your 22nd was carrying the hopes and dreams of thousands of middle-aged obsessives around. You certainly didn't Google your own name and find page after page of written decrying your inability to play right field, your inability to control the strikezone, or your inability to gel with The Benevolent Manger. You didn't have grown men &mdash many of whom proudly carry their weight across the midsection and likely bleed high fructose corn syrup &mdash question your conditioning and dedication to fitness. You didn't have anonymous weirdos calling you fat and deciding another year in the minors was "best for you" from their cubicles at Soulsuckers Inc.
You didn't have 11 major league home runs to your name and 101 strikeouts. You didn't own a .915 career minor league OPS. You, dear reader, definitely had something to prove at the minor league level. Travis Snider does not.
Let him play. In the Big Leagues. Every day. Let no Ruiz nor Delgado; no Damon, Lind, Wallace nor Gathright stand in his way. Let him play and grow and we'll all be better for it.
One other minor detail: when you were 22 years old, you hadn't received a $1,700,000 signing bonus upon graduation of high school. You didn't earn $401,400 last year and you sure as shit aren't going to earn a little more next year. He is. Go earn it Snider.
Update: fixed some grammar in the last paragraph.
Reuters Image courtesy of Daylife
Labels: Travis Snider