The recession in Detroit has claimed another victim. The Tigers’ Curtis Granderson, who by all accounts is as good a man as he is a centerfielder, has been peddled to make room on the payroll. No more will Tiger fans see that skinny body, with the knee socks pulled up high, stretching singles into doubles and roaming the expanse of the outfield. I was hoping that this man, picked 80th in the draft a few years ago, would spend his entire career in a Detroit uniform. It was not to be.
And what’s worse, as cliche as it may sound, is that he’s been traded to the Yankees. The crucible of New York and Yankee Stadium will work hard to beat his personality to fit the Yankee standards and extinguish the fire in his beautiful eyes. After a few key strikeouts, the NY fans will turn on him like a revolving door and boo him straight outta town. I just pray that his character is strong enough to last his tenure there. Because they don’t care if you’re a team leader there, or how much good work you really do through your charities. On top of that, you have to win, all the time. How can anyone stand up to that? Why should they need to?
In honor of Curtis G., here’s a little bit of doggerel I wrote for Bardball in 2008:
Grandy!
No one with a bat is more handy,
With a stance coiled like ribbon candy.Grandy!
His gait is smooth like aged brandy,
Stretching singles into doubles his modus operandi.Grandy!
In any outfield, verdant or sandy,
He’ll grab more flies than the Rio Grande.
With five skills at his command, he
Picks up his team like a Starbucks grande.
He could melt the heart of Tristram Shandy.
Man o man, that kid is dandy.
Can’t you tell? I love Grandy!