Dear Johnny,

When the Yankees signed you after the 2006 season, I was a bit, well, miffed. Though I mainly remembered you earlier on from the Kansas City Royals, and generally liked you because your second half in 2000 totally redeemed my Yahoo fantasy baseball season that year.

Then you went to the A’s, and all was cool, and then you went to the Red Sox, which was cool until you started growing that facial hair. Between the “idiots” comment, made in true Kevin Millar fashion, and the Jesus, well, actual fashion, you were now squarely on the wrong side of the fence. And that was cemented when Javier Vazquez threw you a juicy changeup, and you did what you were paid to do, and hit it into the upper deck in Yankee Stadium in Game 7 of the ALCS.

From that day, I hated you. All through 2005 and that glorious sweep at the hands of the White Sox.

And then you signed with us.

I didn’t want you here. Here you were, symbolic of all that was evil and awful and hateful, the anti-Yankee in every sense of the word…one who trash talked through the media, one who grew ridiculous facial hair, a habit I’d hated since a few too many high school classmates got the idea thinking they were creative or simply that “it would be funny to not shave for xx months.”

And during the 2007 season, when you slumped badly, and you looked done, I was even angrier at the signing because it looked like the Yankees weren’t even getting a good player when they made that deal, rather an over the hill Shannon Stewart wannabe with balky hamstrings and shaky defense. Though many other Yankee fans were quicker to accept you, feeling that you spurning the Red Sox to come here was reason enough to support you, I remained unconvinced. You had helped the Red Sox at our expense, then taken the money, and come here only to stink it up and lead us to a barren wasteland, with no championship banners in sight.

It was during this time that I, who had accepted Alex Rodriguez as a true Yankee from Day One of 2004, said of you, that I would never accept you until you did the same thing for “US” that you did for “THEM.” Get us some huge playoff hits. Win us a game, when it means something. Preferably in an effort that ends with the Yankees hoisting a championship while the rest of baseball looks on, restoring the Yankees to the pinnacle of the sport, and overcoming all the doubters and haters who love to pounce on the team any chance they get.

Do that, and I will accept you as a Yankee.

Well, here we are in the wake of the celebration of #27. I have recovered and gotten some sleep again, because between fitting my own personal schedule around the Yankees’ schedule during this World Series and various subsequent celebrations, it has not been easy for me to sit down and collect my thoughts and put them in a blog post. But I am here to say that you have done it. You have really, really, done it. You have earned my respect as a true Yankee and more than the mercenary that the Boston fans claimed you were when you took our money and our organization’s respect over Boston’s pennies on the dollar and their disrespect. When you fouled those Brad Lidge fastballs off, I couldn’t help but be reminded of Paul O’Neill’s at bat in 2000 World Series Game 1, as he spoiled fastball after fastball from Armando Benitez off before drawing a walk, going to third on a single by Luis Polonia, and scoring on a Chuck Knoblauch sacrifice fly to tie a game in the 9th inning that the Yankees would win in extra innings. You didn’t walk like O’Neill did, but after battling, you found a spot to dunk in a single. You didn’t get singled to third like O’Neill did, you did it all yourself, in one of the rarest baseball plays around, two steals by one player on one pitch in the same play. It was heads up baseball, noticing no one covering third and taking off, and making it, a do or die play where you had to be right. And when Alex Rodriguez singled you home to give the Yankees a lead they would never give back, in my eyes you had earned your keep here. I pulled for you, even though I hadn’t fully forgiven you, but at that moment, all was well. And as #27 became a reality, it was obvious that you had been a large part of it. Without you, maybe 27 doesn’t happen. And for that I am grateful and appreciative of your efforts, and can say that the NY on your cap finally fits the player underneath…in my eyes.

So, in the final year of your contract, you did it. You satisfied the hardest fan to get in your court, and you did it in style. Whatever the outcome of the offseason, you have a home here, and you will be given a hero’s return when you come back, whether it’s wearing pinstripes or another uniform entirely. Congratulations on your second World Series ring, and though you have enjoyed my support all along, now enjoy my acceptance.

Sincerely,
Douggy Bombs