The Evil of Johnny Damon (And It's Not Because He's A Yankee)

Johnny Damon, the legendary center fielder from the Curse breaking Red Sox, is a Yankee. We know that. We've all been clobbered to death with this fact since his signing in December. Is it that big a deal?

In my opinion, not really. Logically.

Would it have been nice to keep him in Boston? Yes. Was he worth what the Yankees gave him? I dunno. I was one of the few who believed he should have been cheered during his first at bat at Fenway, and booed every appearance thereafter. I booed him on Monday, and I'll boo him later in the summer. I boo him because he's a Yankee and because he can now hurt the Red Sox. But like Monday, and from now on, I boo him because of who he is.

Johnny loves to shoot his mouth off. He did it here in Boston, and though entertaining in the beginning (a certain 'naked pull-ups' interview with Dan Patrick springs to mind), it quickly got old. Why? Because in case you didn't notice, Johnny speaks because he loves the sound of his own voice.

Johnny, will you ever go to the Yankees?

"There's no way I can go play for the Yankees, but I know they are going to come after me hard," Damon said. "It's definitely not the most important thing to go out there for the top dollar, which the Yankees are going to offer me. It's not what I need." STORY

On May 5, 2005 Johnny Damon endeared himself to all of Red Sox Nation, saying exactly what they had hoped, needed to hear: that money was not his main goal, that it meant more to him where he was playing that what he was playing for. Yet still, he left, and for the top dollar no less.

Initially Johnny did nothing but express good will and gratitude towards the New England fans, even going so far as to take out a full-page ad in the Sports section of The Boston Globe. In print and on screen, he praised the Nation for it's dedication and intensity, certain that he would be held in the same high esteem he maintained while patrolling center field in the Fens. Unfortunately for him, he was wrong. He was soundly booed and continues to be so. Now, Johnny no longer speaks of the fans with contrived reverence and gratitude. Johnny is jaded.

“Getting these big hits against the Red Sox? Yeah, I love it,” he said after triggering the Yankees’ 7-5 win. “These fans?” Damon said with a shrug. “It’s their loss. They know it, and I know it.” STORY

Logic tells each one of us that baseball is a business. It is part of the entertainment industry, obligated to do nothing more than bedazzle us for a little while until the next flash comes along. Johnny goes to the Yankees for more money? I mean c'mon, can anyone blame him? Absolutely not. Why then should Sox fans be upset when he goes back on his word and pursues the future of his family?

Because to the fan, this is not just business.

Speaking from my own experience and the experiences of the people around me, baseball is not simply something to watch. In the middle of February, pitchers and catchers reporting is a sign that summer is not too far away. Hang on through the snow and biting winds and be rewarded with lazy evening warmth and the crackling radio. Baseball in the summer is something around which days are arranged. 7:05 PM becomes a sacred time, and checking out of more serious matters to check the score indicates an appreciation for the important things.

It's baseball.

We're raised with this game as children and many maintain it into adulthood. But as children baseball is devoid of logic. Players become inextricably linked to teams, money has no value, right and wrong, good and evil are the centerpieces of the drama that unfolds every night between the white lines. Your team is full of Good Guys, your opponent filled with Bad ones. Miracles happen, hope never truly dies. Be cold and heartless, go ahead. Say it's the money, wrap yourself in numbers. Deny the part of you that still lives on the neighborhood sandlot and the American ideals. Read Giamatti's Green Fields of the Mind and you'll see the extent to which baseball can affect even the most erudite adults.

Johnny is so despised because he's trying to play both sides: he claims it's a business but seeks the childlike loyalties of the fans. It's a difficult thing to accomplish, especially when you're a free agent and your constituents average $40,000 to $50,000 annual incomes. An extra $2 million? Please.

We may boo Derek Jeter for being a Yankee, we may boo him because he beats us, but we never boo him because he plays both sides. He keeps his mouth shut and stays away from the fence. Maybe it's because he has nothing to say, or maybe it's because he knows of the perils that await once he starts down that road. Either way, he doesn't need to hear his own voice to know how important he is to this child's game.