Days after my son was born, I received a package on my porch from my father. It was a gift for my first born child.
A black, kid-sized Rawlings baseball glove. The Players Series. “Signed” by Alex Rodriguez.
A-Rod had just signed to the Yankees a couple of years earlier, which was pretty big news when we were living in New York City. My father, a lifelong baseball fan, hoped to bestow a gift to my son that he would be proud to use as he got older. Maybe even play catch together with that glove someday.
While I would have been more enamored with a Derek Jeter version, A-Rod seemed like a great choice. My dad recognized a player who had power. Who had longevity. An All-Star. An MVP. Great qualities that a small baseball fan might look up to as a role model.
Say what you will about Rodriguez’s salary (and I agree, it’s cray-cray), he was exciting to watch for a while. Being the youngest player ever to hit 500 home runs and 600 home runs are pretty impressive stats. Ladies love the long ball, and I was no exception. Yankee Stadium after an A-Rod home run was nothing short of ear splitting.
And yet, all that has been contaminated by his poor choices.
My son received this glove before A-Rod tarnished his reputation with performance-enhancing drug admission. Before his stats deserved as asterisk. All my son knew about Alex Rodriguez was that he was a good baseball player with a cool nickname.
He wore that glove to his first t-ball practice a few years ago with pride. And why shouldn’t he have felt that way? He was using a future Hall Of Famer glove, hoping it would give him some luck in actually catching a ball that day.
Collecting baseball cards has been a habit of my son’s for the past year, and he has his favorites separated in to their own pile. Troy Tulowitzki. Carlos Gonzalez. Buster Posey. Robinson Cano. Mariano Rivera.
And Alex Rodriguez.
Monday my son found out that Alex Rodriguez was suspended for 211 games for using steroids. While it’s not the first time I’ve ever associated A-Rod with drugs, it was the first time I had to have a drug discussion surrounding sports with my kid. Lance Armstrong went under his radar, but this one hit way too close to home. Pun intended.
In the days after the suspension, my son has been asking for a new baseball glove. He knows the name stamped on his glove is tainted in fraud. That the name doesn’t mean the same as it used to. He doesn’t want to be associated with Alex Rodriguez, even by leather goods.
Rather than shunning a player and judging, we’ve started talking about what the suspension means. What lesson we can learn from Alex Rodriguez.
What A-Rod taught my son was that getting accolades by way of cheating isn’t worth it. That achieving goals and breaking records with good old fashioned Hard Work is difficult but extremely rewarding. That respect is more important than money. Lose that, and you’re toast.
He’s taken this to heart and come away with the knowledge that he’d much rather be a good player with honesty than an phenomenal player by cheating.
We’ll go shopping soon for a new glove. Maybe one with a player’s name on it. Or plain. Will my son be a Major League player one day? Probably not.
But if he does? I’d hope some kid would be honored to have my son’s name on their glove.
