Moving on, to another day.
I keep a Pedro Martinez figure on my desk, depicting his days with the New York Mets, walking off a mound with his gloved left hand and his right index finger pointed to the same spot in the sky where his head has tilted. It’s impossible to say whether he’s stepping away from a win or a loss, if it’s tied or if he’s just given up a three-run homer and is being lifted for a lefty.
I have other figures around me — my girlfriend calls them “your little people” — of varying shapes and sizes. Late 1980s Starting Lineup renditions of Mike Greenwell and Wade Boggs anchor the two external harddrives I keep, with a miniature Ichiro atop them. Cam Neely and Tim Thomas represent different and concurrent eras of Boston Bruins history. Two Red Sox figures, of Jason Varitek and Pedro Martinez, are here, too, but they’re usually obscured by my laptop screen.
I found Pedro, circa 2005, online for $4 a few years ago, and I keep him in a key spot, not far from my right hand and usually just behind where I’ll rest a glass. Pedro was among my favorite athletes ever, because he was the single most brilliant force on a baseball diamond I’ve ever seen, for sure. But also because that otherworldly talent abandoned him midway through his career, yet he didn’t fold or succumb to time immediately. He kept pitching, and he was good much more often than he was bad. And because he’s painted in his Mets uniform, it’s a reminder that he had an interesting life and career after he won a World Series and left Boston. (more…)