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Let me begin with an apology. I'm sorry I can't be an adult about this. When I saw the report out of the Yankees spring training camp at the end of last week that Jorge Posada had been taken to the hospital after having his nose broken, I vowed that I would not give in to the temptation to write about the incident.
"Take the high road," I told myself. I don't want to be a person who derives pleasure out of someone else's misfortune. In addition to the fact that it's just plain uncharitable, anyone who has ever seen the Three Stooges knows that the surest, quickest way to getting a pie in the face is to point and laugh at the guy next to you who has just taken one in the kisser.
So I ignored the little voice in my head, and wrote about Dwight Gooden. Then I ignored the voice some more and wrote about Barry Bonds and Bud Selig. I tried. I'm like the alcoholic who goes nine miles out of his way coming home from work to avoid driving by the neighborhood tavern. Then I saw the report yesterday about Posada hoping to be ready for opening day. In case you missed it, he's out of the hospital and has two black eyes. Again, I'm sorry, but how much can one guy be expected to take?
For a Red Sox fan, this is Fisk running over Munson at home plate. This is Jim Rice going into the stands at Yankee Stadium to retrieve his cap from the guy who had taken it off his head as he was catching a foul ball. This is the Sox coming back from three games down to win the ALCS.
I mean, think about the delicious irony. Here's a guy playing professional baseball, doing what every litttle boy who ever played Little League baseball dreams about. He's making millions of dollars, and he gets injured doing what eight year-olds do to warm up. He's a catcher, for crying out loud, and he gets his nose broken playing catch? Although, for the sake of accuracy, I guess only Kelly Stinnett was actually playing catch. Posada was playing miss.
And don't try to tell me I'm alone here. Even if you're a Yankee fan, if you're being honest with yourself you have to admit that you had to suppress a giggle when you heard about the incident. Picture poor Jorge Posada with two black eyes and try to tell me you don't envision a raccoon.
What were the circumstances surrounding the injury? It's actually kind of surprising this didn't happen at the Orioles camp. Here's Anna Benson stopping by in shorts and a tube top to bring Kris his lunch, and a dozen Orioles simultaneously go down with the same injury. Maybe it was something similar. Now, in addition to having a broken nose, Jorge has to explain to Mrs. Posada why the only guy on the field who's allowed to wear a mask got hit in the face with the ball. "I dodt wadt to talk aboud idt."
Anyway, I'm sure New York fans everywhere are hoping this isn't some sort of omen. When George Steinbrenner guaranteed, earlier this spring, that the Yankees would win the World Seris this year and told his players to get their heads in the game, I don't think this is exactly what he meant....
There. I've done it. I know I'm setting myself up here. I understand it's only a matter of time before I receive my karmic revenge. Even though I will no longer take Brown Avenue on my way home from work because there's a Little League baseball field on it, I realize my future holds a trip to the emergency room sometime soon. Still, I feel strangely at ease. I think they call it catharsis.