Turns out, the fates heard my sorrow and conspired to give me one last gift, and present that player with a stunning opportunity--assured championship. My favorite player in baseball isn't a Giant, sadly, but he used to be one. And as of Saturday night, he has a World Series ring.
Not, "he may have a World Series ring" or "he's got a shot at a World Series ring." He's guaranteed a World Series ring.
Yes, I am fully aware that Molina already has rings. He should. He calls a good game, and his batting average is solid. But as my earlier post reflects, I want him to succeed for other reasons. Friday night was the only time I've ever seen Molina lose his temper, and one of two times I've ever seen any Molina lose their tempers. (To be more accurate, when Yadier Molina was tapped by that Reds player--you milk purposeful violence in baseball and I won't honor you with a name, by the way--he looked more annoyed than angry. "Hey, pal, what's with the bat?") And with the honor of being a Giants' fan, I've got to see Molina at games--heck, BOTH Molinas at games--and they should be in baseball for as long as they can be, the gentle souls. I also followed Molina's blog when he was with the Giants, and felt bad for him at his last posting when he talked about how much he was going to miss these guys, and how isolated he felt getting used to new pitchers in Texas. But he did get used to them, and vice versa, and at the end of the day he wins.
Regardless of who wins, he wins.
My sister-in-love asked me earlier this week, "What do you want for your birthday? Pennant or World Series?"
Honestly, I don't care who wins. I wanted to see Bengie Molina win. And as of last night, he did.
Play ball.
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