A confession: since the first week of December, I’ve been window-shopping at marlins.com. I’ve eyed, ogled and contemplated Item No. 12551066: Miami Marlins Jose Reyes Name and Number T-Shirt by Majestic Athletic. Out of curiosity after Reyes made his free agent decision, I looked to see if such a garment existed. It did, and it was back-ordered, so I forgot about it. Then in the depths of winter, I checked again. It was in stock and promised to ship within one to two business days, which gave me pause but then I rejected what I was thinking. Yet I kept checking back, never making a move, but never completely deciding against it. Then, today, I received an MLB e-mail alerting me there was a discount on just about everything they sell, including Item No. 12551066. The 25% Off brought it down to a reasonable-sounding price. All I had to do to was order it by four o’clock this afternoon.
That and lose my mind…which I almost did.
I came close. My browser was already in Secure Shopping Cart mode and my wallet was on my desk. Enter my info and it would be mine. I would own my seventh variation a REYES 7 t-shirt.
But I entered nothing. I couldn’t do it. No matter how much I wish Jose Reyes was still a Met. No matter how much I resent Mets ownership for finding a way to not have the resources to re-sign him or at least truly pursue him. No matter how I saw the shirt mainly as a statement of protest that one of the two or three best position players the Mets have ever developed was allowed to dash to sunnier, more lucrative climes. No matter that in this season celebrating the Mets’ 50th birthday, their all-time shortstop will be conspicuously absent from all festivities and montages as if he never existed.
I wanted REYES 7 on my back once more, but there was no way I could handle MIAMI on my front. Wrong affiliation for him, wrong affiliation for me. This despite deciding I had precedent in the potential purchase’s favor since I once owned a CINCINNATI 41 t-shirt (discovered at Shea Stadium, no less) and my deep-seated hope that Jose stays healthy and succeeds wildly, albeit in a vacuum of team non-competitiveness, for the next six years.
I will root against his employers and colleagues but I will not root against him.
I’m already permanently disgusted a hated division rival was suddenly so well-positioned to lure away my favorite player of the past decade. My giving them an additional $18.76, or whatever cut Jeffrey Loria would grab of the discounted t-shirt price, wouldn’t make me feel any better about the turn of events that leaves me Reyesless except in memory. It was too logical to not realize before I clicked off marlins.com once and for all. It was even emotionally resonant. My hatred for the franchise that pulled the rug out from under the last two final weekends that absolutely mattered in Mets history burns a bright teal…or orange…or black…or yellow…or whatever colors they now feature.
So I wound up making a pro-Mets statement, which is what I usually make, by not making an implied anti-Mets ownership statement, which was never intended to have been a pro-Marlins statement but couldn’t help but be perceived that way if I actually wore something bearing their stupid crest.
This, I suppose, is how the Wilpons get ya every time.