The first emotion was anger, because of course it was. The Mookie Betts trade was, in one sense, robbery. What we were robbed of was the chance to see a generational talent become the greatest Red Sox player of the 21st century. There are few things more rewarding in baseball fandom than aging along with a hometown star, riding the roller coaster with a player you love from the minors all the way to the Hall Of Fame. But with Mookie, the collective memories that would have come from watching him gracefully patrol right field for a decade, challenge Shohei Ohtani for MVP awards, chase 3,000 hits and 500 homers, and have his #50 hung on the right field facade as we debated where he fell among Teddy Ballgame and Yaz— were destroyed before they had a chance to form.
On Mookie And Moving On
