After a seven-year wait, Adam Greenberg returned to the Major Leagues last night.
Greenberg got a tremendous ovation from the Miami crowd both when he was introduced as a pinch hitter to lead of the bottom of the sixth inning on Tuesday, and again after he struck out swinging on three pitches. It seems that everyone is thrilled that the Marlins and owner Jeffrey Loria gave Greenberg another chance to face big league pitching, even if it did come as part of a one-day contract during a meaningless early October game for an underachieving ball club. Everyone seems happy that Greenberg's struggle now has at least a quasi-happy ending - the guy who worked for more than half a decade for another chance finally got his 15-minutes of fame (actually, the entire at bat lasted just 33 seconds). And everyone seems eager to pay $12 to Regal Cinemas to see The Adam Greenberg Story whenever Disney gets around to making it. Everyone, that is, except for me.
Don't get me wrong - I'm happy for Adam Greenberg. I've never been hit in the head by a 90+ mile per hour fastball, but I'd still do almost anything for a chance to have one at bat in a Major League Baseball game. But while most people think last night's at bat with the Marlins adds a special wrinkle to Greenberg's baseball journey, I think his strikeout sort of cheapens what was, in my mind, a very special MLB career. To me, Adam Greenberg's career up to last night was so baseball that it deserved to be remembered and appreciated. I can't think of a person who better personifies how incredible becoming a Major League Baseball player really is than Adam Greenberg. While we spend most of our time as baseball fans talking about guys named Ruth and Mays and Aaron, we often forget that the sport is built atop a foundation of guys named Greenberg and van Dusen (the only other player to be hit by a pitch in his only plate appearance, in 1955).
I was aware of Adam Greenberg's story well before this week, and I always admired him. Here was a guy who worked hard at his craft, had his entire career derailed by a freak accident, and then spent another seven-plus years working to make it back on top. The fact that he never made it all the way back - and would never have if not for the Marlins' generocity and some well-placed publicity - made his story even better. He was the face of the career Minor Leaguer, and his experience was so real that, unlike virtually anyone else who's ever played in a MLB game, I felt like I could really relate to and understand him. Now that Greenberg's life has been transformed into some sort of baseball fairy tale, I've lost the emotional connection I once felt to the 5'9" outfielder. While I'm glad that Greenberg got his moment in the sun, I wish he would have recognized the significance of his baseball experience leading up to this past week. Just because a story doesn't have a happy ending doesn't mean it can't be profoundly relevant.
Don't get me wrong - I'm happy for Adam Greenberg. I've never been hit in the head by a 90+ mile per hour fastball, but I'd still do almost anything for a chance to have one at bat in a Major League Baseball game. But while most people think last night's at bat with the Marlins adds a special wrinkle to Greenberg's baseball journey, I think his strikeout sort of cheapens what was, in my mind, a very special MLB career. To me, Adam Greenberg's career up to last night was so baseball that it deserved to be remembered and appreciated. I can't think of a person who better personifies how incredible becoming a Major League Baseball player really is than Adam Greenberg. While we spend most of our time as baseball fans talking about guys named Ruth and Mays and Aaron, we often forget that the sport is built atop a foundation of guys named Greenberg and van Dusen (the only other player to be hit by a pitch in his only plate appearance, in 1955).
I was aware of Adam Greenberg's story well before this week, and I always admired him. Here was a guy who worked hard at his craft, had his entire career derailed by a freak accident, and then spent another seven-plus years working to make it back on top. The fact that he never made it all the way back - and would never have if not for the Marlins' generocity and some well-placed publicity - made his story even better. He was the face of the career Minor Leaguer, and his experience was so real that, unlike virtually anyone else who's ever played in a MLB game, I felt like I could really relate to and understand him. Now that Greenberg's life has been transformed into some sort of baseball fairy tale, I've lost the emotional connection I once felt to the 5'9" outfielder. While I'm glad that Greenberg got his moment in the sun, I wish he would have recognized the significance of his baseball experience leading up to this past week. Just because a story doesn't have a happy ending doesn't mean it can't be profoundly relevant.
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