“There’s nothing about it that’s been easy. All of it has been challenging ….I’m fighting for my life.” ~ Alex Rodriguez, August 5, 2013
My God. The arrogance. Seriously, could A-Roid be more of a dope (in every meaning of the word) if he tried?
Dear Mr. Three-Time MVP and Baseball’s Highest Paid Player, you brought this so-called “nightmare” upon yourself so spare me the dramatics and crocodile tears,
And for the love of God and baseball (which you clearly have no respect for), spare all of us this fighting for your life bullshit.
You have no idea.
I’d like to drag your syringe-filled ass down to the closest children’s hospital. Or heart transplant unit. Or cancer center. Or neonatal intensive care unit.
I’d like you to remember Logan, the 2-year old boy from Jeannette, Pa. who was the best man in his parents’ wedding this Saturday. He was the talk of the nation and this baseball-on-fire town (that would be Pittsburgh … yes, Pittsburgh). His parents moved their wedding up a year because their boy has a terminal illness called Fanconi anemia and they wanted him to be in the pictures.
Oh, and he also battled leukemia. And as if all that wasn’t enough for a 2 year old to bear, kidney stones too.
Not to minimize your hip and knee surgeries, A-Rod, but … well, you see, you at least got a chance to play baseball.
As opposed to Mr. Stevenson, who won’t get to enjoy a game of catch with his boy in the backyard.
Because little Logan died yesterday.
In the bottom of the ninth, in the game of their lives, little Logan and his parents were downright inspiring in their grace and courage.
You could learn a lesson or two from that little 2 year old.
Or, sadly, any of the millions of Logans out there who are fighting for their lives.
You probably did hundreds of such photo ops with kids like Logan, didn’t you?
How quickly one forgets.
How fast the mighty fall.
A reminder, A-Rod: they’re the real MVPs. The heroes. The true champions.
Meanwhile, you sit talking about nightmares and fighting for one’s life.
You, the one who has struck out in the most pathetic of ways.
You, the one who just needs to take your balls and go the hell home.