A kid in orange pajamas lifts his arm, a Nintendo Wii remote in his hand. Sitting up to face the screen, his digital doppelgänger mimics a golf swing, but the movement is interrupted by a coughing fit. He collapses back in bed and soon hears his mother at the door.
“You must be feeling a little better if you’re playing my old gaming system.”
“A little bit.”
“If you want, I can find Smurfs Dance Party and we can sing together?”
“Can we not do that again?”
“OK fine; but guess what? Your grandfather is here”
“Can you tell him I’m sick?”
“You are sick. That’s why he’s here.”
As he retreats under a royal blue blanket, the kid’s grandfather steps into the room with a smile and a present under his arm.
“How’s the sickie doing?”
“I’ll leave you two pals alone,” says his mom as she closes the door.
An uncomfortable silence ensues.
“I brought you a gift.”
“What is it?”
“Open it and find out.”
The kid does, then does his best to smile as he looks up.
“It’s a book.”
“That’s right. When I was your age, television were inside boxes as big as you and the images traveled into your home on a wire, like that hanger holding your clothes up in the closet.”
“No! That’s not true!”
“Yes it is; and when TV shut down for the night, you could still smooze sports under the covers, using that same wire to listen to the radio.”
“Now you’re just making that up.”
“We would bring things with us to bed, especially when we were sick. Some brought their transistor radios and listened to baseball games. Others would bring a flashlight and read books until they were too tired to hold both the book and the light.”
“Really?” said the kid, finally showing some interest in the unwrapped present hanging loosely in his arms. “So what’s this book about?”
“Well of course, it’s about your favorite baseball team - the New York Mets.”
The look of disappointment from the kid was audible to any parent or adult who has dealt with adolescents.
“That’s all anyone ever talks about. How they won 102 games, but didn’t win the big ones. How their owner is buying up the world, but can’t buy a championship.”
“Well luckily, this book isn’t about any of that. It’s focused on the Before Times. The Long Long Ago when the Mets found a way to field the Richest Team Money Can Buy and still be the cheapest team in the league.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Just because things don’t make any sense doesn’t mean they’re not true. You know how every July 1st, someone brings up Bobby Bonilla?”
“Yeah; kinda sorta.”
“Did you know Bonilla was coming off back to back Silver Slugger seasons with Top 3 MVP finishes when the Mets signed him to a 5-year, $29 million dollar contract; the largest in all of professional sports.”
“Really?” said the kid; his interest truly peaked. “Weren’t Larry Bird and Magic Johnson playing at that time? And that’s just like $6 million a year; doesn’t Aaron Hicks make like double that today to play for the Yankees?”
“Well, it’s more like $5.8 million a year and yes, Hicks is signed through 2026 on a 7-year, $70 million dollar contract. But that’s not why they bring up Bobby Bo every year.”
“So why do “they” call it Bobby Bonilla Day?”
“To start the 21st century, the Mets bought out the remaining $5.9 million of his contract, agreeing to start making million dollar payments a decade later to settle the debt after Bonilla was well past the age of 70.”
“Wait, what? You mean, he agreed to wait 10 years for money owed him and for waiting, he would get five times the amount he was originally owed?”
“And for that, he is annually jested upon.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“And neither does calling the 2nd most wins in franchise history a disappointment, but…” said the old man, shrugging with his face and shoulders.
“But they didn’t win the big game. And weren’t they supposed to?”
“Why were they supposed to?”
“Well, because they had Pete Alonso and Max Scherzer and Jacob deGrom and everyone said they were going to.”
“What everyone says and $2.50 can get you across the George Washington Bridge.”
“What does that even mean, Grandpa?” he asked while hiding a yawn.
“It means I’ve been rambling on a little too long and you should get some rest.”
“OK,” said the kid. “Maybe you could come by tomorrow and actually read the book?”
“As you wish.”
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