Good Bye Arod

You were once regarded as possibly the best player in baseball. A Latino from humble beginnings who loved the game and was willing to work hard at becoming the best. You hustled, you worked and you built a brand for yourself. You became the “A-Rod”!
 
I didn’t fall in love with you because a young shortstop from Kalamazoo, Michigan had won my heart. He was a Yankee rookie, and as a person who bleeds pinstripe blue, I was obligated to glaze upon him. But from time to time I paid attention towards Seattle. You were making noise, a lot of it! And though Jeter had won my heart, I couldn’t ignore that you may be the better player.
 
You ended up getting the biggest contract in baseball by going to the Rangers. Now your talent had great expectations, perhaps too many that your weak shoulders couldn’t carry. So when you struggled and your name wasn’t praised but criticized, you had to find a way to live up to those expectations. Your hard work, bat speed and focus wasn’t cutting it, so you looked for a way to be greater, stronger, faster and you landed in a puddle of enhancement drugs.
 
This puddle ended up becoming a sea of trouble for you. So much so that you couldn’t keep your head above water and it ended up drowning you. Not only your talent, your brand, your hard work, but your identity. But you couldn’t keep that in In the hell that is Texas. No, you brought your stained and troubled brand to the Bronx.
 
You came to New York with the highest contract in baseball… again. More noise, expectations and luxury which your hurting shoulders could not carry. So you swam harder and faster in your sea of supplements that may have given you an advantage and eventually MVP awards that do not mean anything today, not to me and many Yankee fans.
 
We gave you a championship ring in 2009, the last one we have won. I would be a fool to not admit that you played a big role in that championship. You performed well enough to finally get something that many talented and hard working MLB players will never see and wear. But you cheated and became the most hated baseball player in my generation.
 
After coming clean and admitting that you cheated, your brand, the “A-Rod”, became a joke. See, a brand is a promise. A promise that comes with your identity. But “A-Rod” today means “cheater” and You can’t shake that off no matter what you do.
 
Today is your last game as a Yankee and perhaps as a professional baseball player. As a die hard Yankee fan, I’m a bit perplexed. See, I don’t hate you anymore. I believe that you have paid the price for what you’ve done. You served your suspension and your brand was dragged through the dirt filled stadiums of every Major League Baseball park in America. But I also find it hard to love you. You could have been the greatest. Your talent, your love of the game, your humble beginnings, they meant something. But today they’re lost in asterisks for the rest of baseball history.
 
You leave baseball with no retirement party, no stadiums tours, no tear-filled eyes in fan faces and no gifts. Instead, you leave baseball, the sport you loved, with regrets, pain and disappointments.
 
A man’s life should never be defined by the work that he does. A man is more than just what he does when he punches his time card. I will always see you as a man who was surrounded by poor counsel, friends and mentors. But I also see you as a husband, father and human being. You may have failed at baseball, but I hope you succeed at life.
 
I want to win again. I am spoiled by this team, but more importantly, I want to erase the distractions you brought to the Bronx. I want to see the next generation of Yankees strive to do what we do… Win! I want them to understand that hard work, integrity and passion is how you get there, not by diving into the sea of drugs and needles that may give you an advantage for the price of your baseball soul. 
 
I hope you find peace in life, Alex. I hope baseball becomes the past and I hope you strive to be a better man than you were a baseball player. Good bye Alex!