Canumbnut

That sound you hear is 1.3 million unemployed people who have lost their extension benefits and therefore no longer have any source of income, muttering expletives and raising both middle fingers to new Seattle Mariner second baseman Robinson Cano.

After almost a decade with the Yankees, he left to sign a ten year deal worth $240 million. Nothing wrong with that. Even the most zealous, obnoxious, loud mouth Yankee fan realizes deep down that you can’t blame someone for seeking out the most money in that situation. If we’re being honest, most of us would do the same thing.

But during the press conference to announce the signing, Cano stated that he felt disrespected by his old team. Turns out the Yankees “only” offered him 7 years for $175 million and wouldn’t budge from that. Again, nothing wrong with taking the higher offer. However, when one reaches a point in life where $175 million is a sign of disrespect, you’ve now entered a world where reality no longer applies, and are trapped in fantasy land.

Baseball has always had an otherworldly, fantastical element to it, and a big reason why the game can occasionally make otherwise macho grown men cry like infants. It also may unintentionally provide you with some life lessons along the way. The perfect example are the 1986 Mets. They could’ve been a film by Disney, albeit one made by Martin Scorsese and a soundtrack heavy on Thin Lizzy, with all of the fighting (on and off the field), drinking, drugging and other tomfoolery.

Nearly 30 (!) years later, Game 6 of the ’86 World Series is still one of the most exhilarating things I’ve ever seen. There were a few times the Mets were a mere strike away from the Red Sox celebrating their first world championship since 1918 at Shea, their home field. You know what happened next. One of the most indelible images from that magical autumn evening is Ray Knight rushing towards home plate as the winning run with a skip in his step and both hands on helmet, the expression on his face simultaneously showing delirium, disbelief and bliss. They overcame seemingly insurmountable odds, lived to fight another night and won the series 24 hours later. The lesson learned was echoed by a song from Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush which had come out that summer; “Don’t Give Up.” That profile of tenacity has stayed with me ever since.

And just a few month’s ago, the Red Sox won their third championship in ten years, one season after finishing in last place and having their worst year since 1965. Their manager in 2012, Bobby Valentine, the Iago of baseball, performed his usual divide and conquer style of managing with predictably dire results. Then with a new manger, and some new players, the Sox go from worst to first.

Life doesn’t always have these happily ever afters, and triumphant turnarounds. But the beauty of baseball is it’s an escape from reality that helps illuminate it. To quote James Earl Jones in Field of Dreams, “It reminds us of all that once was good, and that could be again.”

Robinson Cano’s situation is the dark side to all this, what happens when you completely bubble yourself from real life. While his regular season statistics are excellent, averaging 24 home runs, 97 runs batted in and a .309 batting average, his postseason stats tell a different story. In the 2009 World Series, he batted .136. In the 2012 ALDS against the Orioles, he hit .091. Ooof. Couldn’t possibly get worse, right? When the Yanks advanced to the ALCS versus the Tigers, his average was .056. There’s shitty, then there’s shit-taaaay. Fittingly, his overall postseason batting average is .222. That’s right, it consists entirely of the number 2. Perfect.

The postseason is where you’re supposed to step it up. It’s the moment of truth, that Kenny Loggins-“This Is It” time, the reason why you play the game in the first place. In the real world, if any one of us had performed that poorly at our jobs, we’d be shit-canned. In the world of baseball, not only do you get a raise, you get the raise to end all raises.

$240 million dollars can buy you many, many things. But in Cano’s case, it still can’t afford him perspective.

 

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