David Wright’s last major league baseball game was at the end of September and it did not disappoint. The sold-out crowd of 43,928 fans and those, like myself, rode the highs and lows of the game with our team like usual. Wright trotted out to the hot corner for the last time, at the top of the sixth inning. He fielded and tossed the ball around under the lights and then it was all over. He shook hands with the third base umpire, turned to his short-stop and embraced him in a hug that triggered a flashback from their years defending the infield together from the beginning in blue and black uniforms–then all black, and now white and blue pinstripe.
You influenced a generation of athletes. They chose to carry the number five on their backs through the dirt, clay and turf of Little League, middle school, high school and travel, all because of you; my brother included. With no scandals or inappropriate behavior, you were the perfect role model for young athletes. You were a young twenty-one-year-old from Virginia who made it through the concrete jungle into these tough New Yorkers hearts.
Wright took his time ripping my heartstrings out as he slowly made his way around the diamond for his final goodbye to all his teammates. With tears in his eyes he took off his cap and turned to the surrounding fans and tipped his hat to them, causing 50,000 people to cry all at once (even if some won’t admit it). He walked into the dugout and down through the corridor alone, closing the door on his career as a New York Metropolitan and symbolizing the end of an era.
Oh Captain! My Captain! Thank you for an incredible fifteen years.
HCXO,
Elizabeth