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Let the Nomar nostalgia begin

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was eight years of my life, wiped away from me just like that. I was minding my own business, content in front of my computer, the whole rest of the day ahead of me . . .and just a few internet clicks and two phone calls later, I was mired in a depression not unlike last October. It was . . .oh, just listen to me blathering on. Forgive me, I'm a terrible wreck. Indulge me in my sadness, if you will.

And so the saga ends. Eight years after being dubbed the Red Sox' savior, and eight months after nearly being dealt to the Chicago White Sox in the A-Rod disaster, Nomar Garciaparra was traded to the Chicago Cubs in an eleventh-hour deadline deal. Needless to say, I was ill-prepared for the news. Call me naive, but I never believed it would actually happen. Sure, this once-happy marriage had seen much better days. Nomar's relationship with Boston's front office had become baseball's most acrimonious subplot. But I kept telling myself things would get better with time. These were professionals; they'd work their way through it, right? It was like that couple you never thought would break up. All those rumors flying around seemed to be nothing more than just rumors.

And then it happened. I saw the headline on ESPN.com: 'Cubs Get Nomar.' I had to read it again to be sure. Lo and behold, it still said 'Cubs Get Nomar.' Suddenly, there was finality to it. Closure. My heart sank, and I let out a shrill squeak of horror.

That was that. It was over. The player millions of us had followed religiously for the last eight years was suddenly gone, never to put on a Boston Red Sox uniform again. As I read news of the trade and endlessly rehashed the contention that had grown between Nomar and the Sawx in my mind, I was reminded of the time our family dog committed suicide . . . only this was far more painful. It ruined my weekend. I don't know which was worse -- the bitter, controversial way Nomar's career in Boston ended, or the lame, stupid way "The Village" ended. Call it a push.

My good friend Adam -- a Boston native and fellow Red Sox fanatic -- gave me a call right around the time the news came down, and we both sat in disbelief at the stunning realization that Nomar was gone. Forever. We eulogized his career for a solid half-hour, like two parents reminiscing about their child's first steps . . .only we were way more emotional.

Me: Remember when our little Nomar hit his first home run?

Adam: Of course, like it was yesterday!

Me: And those times he won the batting title?

Adam: Precious!

Me: And now our baby's all grown up.

Adam: And he's gone and left us.

Me: I just can't take it. Hold me.

Things got worse when I actually analyzed the details of the trade. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the going rate for a two-time batting champion and potential Hall-of-Famer was a pair of .246 hitters with a combined zero All-Star appearances. (This economy, I tell ya.) I realized I would have to come to grips with the fact that the Nomar Era was over, and the Orlando Cabrera/Doug Mientkiewicz Era was just beginning. Certainly I had to assume that, given Nomar's star status, we would try to fill our most glaring need -- which, contrary to popular belief, isn't defense, but pitching. (Anyone who's watched Derek Lowe, Tim Wakefield, Bronson Arroyo and Keith Foulke pitch over the last two months knows what I'm talking about.) Instead, we didn't add any pitchers. Not one. Not even Matt Clement, the Cubs' fifth starter, the one who had been mentioned in all the Nomar rumors prior to Saturday. (And yes, I did in fact just begin referring to the Red Sox as 'we.' I'm a fan, people.)

Cabrera and Mientkiewicz improve Boston's defense, no doubt. And given hitters' tendencies to flourish in Boston, they will both probably fit in nicely and their offense will improve. But are you telling me that's all we could get for the face of our franchise? At one point in my conversation with Adam, he theorized that Theo Epstein was perhaps a rogue agent for the New York Yankees -- and I think he was being serious.

It's great for the Cubs, though, isn't it? As it turns out, the rest of the clubs in this four-team blockbuster got swindled. Hoodwinked. Bamboozled. The Cubs got the only blue-chip player in the deal, and only had to give up Alex Gonzalez and a couple of prospects. How'd they swing that?

It didn't make me feel any better, of course, when Cabrera, Nomar's replacement at shortstop, cost the Sox a game on Sunday with an error that allowed the Twins to score the winning run. That capped the weekend perfectly.

To be fair, the problem isn't really with Cabrera and Mientkiewicz. The problem is that I just didn't want to see Nomar go, and I don't think I'm alone on that. I wanted them to work things out. And if someway, somehow, improbably, the Red Sox go on to win the Series this October, I'll be ecstatic of course -- but I won't help feeling a sting of regret that Nomar couldn't win it with us, that we won't be celebrating with the guy who carried the team for the better part of a decade.

I know, I know -- getting rid of him probably had to happen. The animosity between him and the organization seemed pretty irreparable. He was no longer happy in Boston, he no longer had that passion, and he probably needs a change of scenery. But for all that, and all the flak he's gotten from the media in recent months, the bottom line is that we weren't ready to say goodbye. I wasn't ready, my Sox friends weren't ready, and I'm willing to bet most of the 35,000 that fill Fenway Park every night weren't quite ready, either. You can bet that the first time Nomar comes to Fenway as a member of the visiting team, he'll get a massive standing ovation.

And that's what makes it all so depressing. Through everything, we still love the guy. We wish he could still be happy with the Sox, we wish he could be back -- even though it's not possible, certainly not now. This breakup has been far too ugly. But, at the risk of sounding like a jilted lover, I wish things could be the way they were in the beginning. I want to get back together. No-mah, sweetheart! Come on, baby, I'm sorry, we didn't mean it, honest! We were wrong,we see that now. We'll do anything to make it up to you. Oh, that thing with Orlando? It didn't mean anything. And we were thinking of you the whole time!

I guess my point is, it was a terrible weekend. The depression is passing, but the nostalgia is just setting in. Ah, the good ol' days.

The Sox have two months to get back on track in what has been a highly disappointing season. Maybe things will come together, now that this soap opera has ended. Maybe. But provided the Sox never quite come together this year, provided they don't make it to the Series -- or even to the playoffs -- there's only one thing to say: Go Cubs.

Copyright © 2004 by Chris Bellamy

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