An injury to a star player in spring training is like dropping your hot dog before arriving in your seat. It’s like crashing your Toyota Camry before trading it in for a Mercedes. It’s like scheduling a vaccine appointment and then contracting …
OK, you get it. There’s no silver lining.
While I’m still waiting on my first dose of the COVID-19 vaccine, I’ve been thinking about the much-needed new perspective the last year during this pandemic has provided many of us (me included).
As bad as it might be to the baseball player, a non-life-threatening injury doesn’t exactly qualify as a traumatic global event. And yet, if the last year has taught us anything, it’s that when we find flashes of joy, we must savor them.
When White Sox outfielder Eloy Jiménez plays baseball, he embodies a certain joy, effusive optimism and boundless energy that inspire people of all ages to love baseball — but more important, to love life. With his hat askew, a hearty laugh and an enthusiastic love of his teammates, Jiménez’s vibe on the field is a model for all of us off it: Work hard, never take yourself too seriously and always keep a sense of humor.
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On March 24, Jiménez ruptured his pectoral tendon during a spring training Cactus League game as he attempted to catch a fly ball that flew 15 feet over the fence. Spiderman and Willie Mays alike couldn’t have caught this ball — nor would they have tried.
As Jiménez awkwardly bent his left arm over the fence, injuring himself, I coincidentally was in the process of unpacking my new #74 Eloy Jiménez jersey. My excitement halted; despondency filled me. As Jiménez sauntered off the field, the cursed jersey immediately found a new home deep in the depths of my closet. Indeed, perhaps I should reevaluate my life if the well-being of a baseball player five years my junior can alter my axis so severely. But I’ll save that conversation for a therapist. This is a moment to reflect on what White Sox fans — no, all baseball fans — have lost for the next six months.
Jiménez’s tape-measure home runs are a sight to behold. His opposite-field hitting would make any coach proud. But my appreciation for the guy runs deeper. He’s one of the greatest baseball players on Earth, but he’s also one of the most human. He falls into nets while chasing fly balls. He sprained his ankle in the ecstasy of celebrating Lucas Giolito’s no-hitter last year. When cameras zoom in for live shots, he’s famous for waving in delight and saying, “Hi Mom.”
Not only are these sparks of clumsiness and boyishness endearing, but they’re exactly what I’d expect from myself — and most people I know — if we had the good fortune of playing professional baseball. We would all surely look like fools. Eloy is himself in a way that few others are.
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His injury is further proof that some of our greatest heartbreaks occur in the dumbest moments. That in the peak of life, we lack control over most everything. I’m indeed devastated for myself and my fellow South Side brethren. But no one will feel the impact of this injury more than Jiménez himself. He’ll be helpless as the Sox enter their most exciting season in decades. He’ll be powerless as the Pale Hose inevitably (and often) strand runners on base. Normality won’t resume for him until he’s back in the batting order. For Jimenez, watching his teammates will surely bring happiness but also true pain.
Fortunately, unlike more important things in life, this loss is only a temporary one. With luck, our boy, Eloy, will be back in black and white mashing mammoth dingers in September and into the playoffs. Maybe I’ll even wear the jersey again. Until then, let’s appreciate this upcoming season, celebrate our wins on and off the field, and fill the temporary void left by Eloy Jimenez by living a little more like him — with joy.
Charlie Stanton is a speechwriter based in Oakland, California, and a proud Chicago native.
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