Mets fans hate losing to Greg Maddux. All of us, right?
Wait a second…is that a smile I see in the crowd? Why, there's a traitor to the ranks. There she is! String 'er up!
Wait another second, it's Laurie. I'll vouch for her. She's one of us, just a little more skewed in her priorities. While most of your orange & blue bleeders were shaking their heads and fists Tuesday night, Laurie was thrilled.
Because Laurie loves Greg Maddux. Loves him as a pitcher. Not respects. Not admires. Not appreciates an all-time great but still wishes an anvil would fall on his head when he faces the Mets (my default position). She thinks Mike Maddux's brother is the bee's knees.
When it comes to the scope of his long and distinguished career, she's right. We don't have enough living legends floating by, and we should be able to applaud them when they cross our radar screen. Then we should, you know, kick their ass.
But Laurie doesn't think this way about Greg Maddux. She doesn't mind when he paints his corners on nights when the other team is ours. She thinks it's swell that Mad Dog's stuff still has its bite. Needless to say, we've parted company on this matter a number of times over the years. But we remain friends somehow.
She's not a Cubs fan. Far from it. We still celebrate Brant Brown Humiliation Day every September 23. She used to be a Mets/Braves fan until that got sticky and she peeled away all the Atlantaness from her being. She's down to only one Brave now and that Brave happens to pitch for Chicago and happened to have pitched yet another gem against us.
Like you, I'm in no mood to relive this debacle. So I'll let somebody who found some value in all of this explain herself. (And no, I didn't lose a bet or my mind.)
Laurie, it's all yours tonight:
Greg Maddux is so far past the point of idolization now that you don't even want to know how far. Now it's like watching Michael Jordan at the end of his career…every time I watch him I try to sear every pitch into my brain because I know it won't be long before it's all just a memory. He just thrills me. I know he shouldn't because he was a Brave and now he's a (UGH) Cub…I know it's disloyal, and I know you get mad at me for it, but I can't help it. He's the classiest, most incredible pitcher ever. I get physically ill when he gets hit. Actually nauseous.
His first start this year (this is what I never told you), he got bombed…the Mets had been slaughtered the day before and I was fine. But then he gives up five runs (that's when I turned it off) and I'm a shaking, sobbing, nauseous mess. I sobbed for a good half-hour. It was unbearable to watch. Actually physically unbearable.
I think it's because I know I'm on the verge of losing him soon and I can't handle it. I think about it and I get ill. I really idolize this guy as a pitcher. He's just the best. Keep your stupid Clemens, that self-aggrandizing bully…he actually referred to HIMSELF as a future Hall of Famer last week!!! I can't IMAGINE Greg Maddux doing that, just like I couldn't imagine him demanding attention and accolades for his 300th win. Even though HE IS GOD.
Now, I doubt you'll want to print any of that… but it felt good to get it out.