Last Night Saved Me

by theoriginaljd, Six Pack Sports Report

I'm not necessarily the most cheerful of the Carnies here at Epic Carnival. I have never claimed to be the most depressing, but just looking over the things I've done here I do have a track record of being rather negative. I'm not really sure where that negativity comes from - being as awe inspiringly beautiful as I am it's tough for me to find much to complain about. I don't like to resort to that sports blogger niche of slamming other people because I think that makes me look petty, and foolish. But recently it's just been difficult to be a sports fan.

I'll admit that I'm a fan of professional wrestling - and when the Chris Benoit story broke it really did have a negative impact on me as a fan of "sports" or whatever you want to group these games into. The thought of what Benoit did was so out of the realm of possibility for me that I had a tough time coming to terms with the idea that these people who we follow as fans are not at all who we make them out to be. I don't know if it was drugs, or just the fact that his wife nagged the shit out of him to the point where he couldn't take it anymore - but when Benoit killed his wife and kid and then snapped his neck with a weight bench, frankly a lot of my sports fandom went on hiatus.

Recently things have become even more strained as a fan. With news of Michael Vick actually answering the question "Who Let the Dogs Out?" with a resounding "I don't know but kill those effing dogs." Or the NBA official making Bill Simmons dream come true by being caught with mob ties betting on basketball games that he worked. And let's not even get started on the whole steroids issue - frankly it's the least of our concern.

The truth of the matter is that being a sports fan has sucked recently. Every time I try to stomach a half hour of ESPN I have to watch that story about the bouncer who was paralyzed by Pacman Jones' possible accomplice. I mean has anything even remotely inspiring happened recently because I need a bit of Disney magic here to get my juices flowing again? Which is why last night might have saved me in terms of my love of sports. Because last night I watched Jon Lester pitch for the Boston Red Sox again. (Author's Note: Now that's how you write a Hemingwayesque introduction).

I don't need to go into the whole back story because we all know it by now. Lester took the mound last night after an 11 month chemotherapy vacation and I'll admit that it got a little dusty in the SPSR Mansion. As a Red Sox fan I have known about Lester since he first showed up in the system. The lefty power arm who would compliment Jonathan Papelbon as the heart and soul of the Red Sox rotation for years to come. Peter Gammons used to write glowingly about Lester when he was in the minor leagues and frankly when Peter Gammons says something you listen.

When he finally showed up in a Red Sox uniform I waited through a 4 hour rain delay in Fenway Park to see him pitch. I wanted to be there to see this kid's first game in Fenway (just like I had done for Pedro, Schilling and Beckett) because if he really was as good as advertised I wanted the story of being there. Well he struggled a bit last season posting a 7-2 record in 14 starts but showing flashes of brilliance, and flashes of being a 22 year old kid who needed more polishing. Then the cancer thing happened - and it hit home. Everyone has family members who have had cancer, that's the nature of the beast. When you follow sports as closely as most of us do our favorite teams become extensions of our families, especially the players who come up through the system (See: Jeter, Derek) and when Jon Lester told us all that he had cancer, he might as well have been a cousin breaking the news at Thanksgiving.

Last night when he stepped on the mound #31 could have thrown one inning and given up fifteen runs and he still would have been the Comeback Player of the Year. I know yesterday you read about guys who have returned from cancer to play - but frankly I never cared about those guys like I cared about Jon Lester. Watching him on the mound last night made me remember why I'm a sports fan - and that's something that I wasn't sure I'd get back with the stuff that has happened recently.

Lester's line last night was: 6 IP, 5 H, 2 ER, 3 BB, 5 Ks.

As a comparison last season when I sat in the rain to see him make his debut (June 10, 2006) Jon Lester's line was: 4.1 IP, 5 H, 3 ER, 4 BB, 4 Ks.

The kid had cancer and came back better. And yeah maybe we're jumping the gun here (replace we, with I), but you know what I don't care. If Jon Lester winds up traded, or reinjured, or sent back to the minors to make room for the human blob that is Curt Schilling there will always be the memory of his parents crying when he left the mound in Cleveland last night after the 6th inning. He pitched last night for his teammates, and for himself most of all - to prove that he could come back just like he told us all that he would. But Jon Lester also pitched for me last night, because it's been harder and harder to remember why I love sports so much - and last night did a damn good job of sparking my memory.