2007- opening day. I’m at the game with my Dad. He was sad because he knew he would have to leave before the game ended to go to a funeral for the son of a friend. “But Dad,” i say “Alex Gordon is going to make his debut today.” So dad comes to the game, at least for a few innings. Bottom of the 1st, Schilling is on the mound for the Red Sox. Royals get a couple, and it’s 2 outs bases loaded. Back then Schilling was known for the bloody sock and the 2001 World Series, not weird political stuff, he was legend, but we had drafted a kid from close to home who was going to be the next George Brett. Alex strikes out and Dad has to leave to make it to the funeral. Don’t worry Dad. 7 years from now, we’ll sweep the Orioles and that kid from Nebraska will have played to his potential. He’ll even make a great catch in left field in to help us win that day. We’ll find each other after the game and hug. “Love you Dad” “Love you too son, hey- remember when we went to Gordon’s first game? I bet you didn’t picture this!”
Actually I did, but my imagination was always a bit dreamy.
Cheers Alex. Cheers. No, you weren’t the next George Brett, but you were the only Alex Gordon, and that’s pretty damn good.