Last week, New York magazine’s Intelligencer section noted David Wright was named the Police Athletic League’s athlete of the year…and presented a picture of former Chicago White Sox pitcher Dan Wright next to the item. This week, perhaps prompted by a flurry of complaints (or at least mine), the section wished a happy upcoming birthday to David and actually used a picture of him in doing so.
So happy birthday, David Wright. Today you are 25. Today you are quite a man. When I think of you, I think of what Dorothy Boyd said of Jerry Maguire:
I love him! I love him for the man he wants to be. And I love him for the man he almost is.
I won’t claim to be David Wright’s biggest fan for the simple reason that there are clearly bigger fans of his. But beyond my carping over his scatter-arm throwing and his ridiculously awarded Gold Glove and the MVP boomlet that I didn’t quite buy except from the standpoint of homerism (which is fine, I suppose) and my nagging sense that his act of being born in Virginia instead of Venezuela has contributed greatly to his popularity, I am a David Wright fan. I love that 25-year-old David Wright is a Met and is slated to remain so for several years. I am hoping against hope that David Wright’s Metdom will beat the odds and become eternal, and not just in that “he’ll always be a Met to me” way. I hope he’s never traded, never leaves via free agency, isn’t cut just because he’s not what he was when he was 25. I’m already dreading the smarmy, self-serving pronouncement by the front office and whoever’s manning it by then that it was for the good of the team that David Wright had to leave the New York Mets.
That would never be good. I can’t imagine it would be good from a playing standpoint and I can’t see it from a personality angle. As a human being, he’s basically done nothing wrong since ascending to the Mets in 2004, nothing worth more than a random gripe anyway. I’d venture to say he’s done everything correctly (you thought I was gonna say “right,” didn’tcha?). If he’s a few thin degrees from perfection in a couple of aspects of his game, I’ve got no complaints with the kid and how he conducts himself.
Did I say kid? He’s 25, I know, but he’s just a child in my eyes. Maybe that’s because when I was on the cusp of 25 two decades ago I was pretty certain I had substantial growing up to do (as I’m pretty certain I still do). It’s amazing that someone so young is so out front for an entire franchise, particularly in this market. But he handles it. I hope the Mets get him some help and that the older players around him don’t leave him to handle the brunt of the attention when the spotlight grows harsh (as seemed to be the case in September 2007) and that the younger players see what an example he sets and follow it already yet.
This is how I am with David Wright. When I watch him night-in, night-out, I find flaws. When I’m separated by a winter’s distance and my only contact with him is through a picture in a magazine, I feel like his biggest fan. For the man he wants to be, for the man he pretty much is.
I believe you're being a bit unfair here Greg. Sure, among the fair weather set and certainly in terms of endorsements, shirts etc. David Wright has a huge advantage by virtue of where he's from. This is also due to the fact that, apparently, he's quite good looking. Obviously neither fact is his fault as I'm sure you realize.
Amongst the true believers Fonzie will always be one of those singular, all-time most beloved Mets made all the more poignant because of his sudden inexplicable decline. We don't care any more than you do where he was born.
And Wright's already a better player than Fonzie ever was.
I toyed with the idea of saying that I love David Wright because he's so cute, just to set Laurie off on a rant.
Then I decided against that ;)
To celebrate David's 25th birthday I went to Virginia.
Oh, and because my parents live here and it's Christmas. But still.
I actually found myself watching 15 minutes of Game 1 of the NLDS on SNY the other day, and I couldn't help but scream “YEAH, BIG DAVE!” when he laced the 2-run double in the 6th. While I kill myself focusing on Wright's flaws during the season as you do, Greg, I too miss him when he's not around. Nobody can deny that having Big Dave come through in a huge spot somehow feels better than when anybody else does it. He's been filling that gap since Piazza was shown the door.
There's another aspect to Wright's popularity I think we're all forgetting. Wright is (currently with Reyes) one of the rare exceptions to the rule that “no stud prospect from the Mets farm system will ever amount to anything in the majors when wearing a Mets uniform.” We all hoped the Mets were really serious when they hyped up Dave, and they were. It was a nice, comforting surprise, and I'm still feeling good about it.
the david may be excessively fawned over or celebrated by the media and fans, but that's not his fault. the facts speak to his growing importance to the team. if some of our pinch-me-i'm-dreaming glee seemed premature for him earlier in his career, it's clear that as wright enters his later twenties he is evolving into the ballplayer we all hope he will be. he's the real deal.
off topic: i should have posted this on your previous essay, greg, but this is time sensitive.
for shea lovers, the episode tonight (friday, 9 p.m.) on vh1 classic's documentary series, “the seven ages of rock,” has a nice little stretch about halfway through citing “the most hallowed turf in rock.”
that would be william a shea municipal stadium, which comes up in a discussion about “stadium rock” and the acts that could command such huge audiences. the series, made by the bbc, has been deservedly bashed for many sins. but it makes up a little for it to me when, in reviewing the rise of the police as “the biggest band on the planet,” it defines when it happens: at the 1983 concert on the synchronicity tour, when the police played shea. “where the beatles had performed to 56,000 people in 1965, in 1983 the police played to over 70,000.”
some great footage of shea shot from the limos driving the band to shea, and even better stuff inside the stadium during the show. and stewart copeland and andy summers do a bito f reminiscing.
worth a look, especially since as we celebrate wright's b-day, we're just as surely counting down to shea's d-day.
So I got a sneak preview of one of my Christmas presents the other night, when my wife — have I mentioned that I have the best wife on the planet? — presented my with an Authentic Majestic Mets batting practice jersey, complete with orange armpits and enhanced moisture- wicking ability, emblazoned with “Wright 5” on the back.
(Holy run-on sentence, Batman!)
Anyway, my wife — the best one on the planet — says “do you mind that I got you a DW (our nickname for the Metssiah) shirt?”
Do I mind?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? It's one of the best gifts I've ever gotten!
Off topic, but here's an absolutely BRILLIANT State-of-the-Mets article.
Venezuela, you understand, was used for alliterative purposes, not a subliminal ad for Edgardo Alfonzo. “Close to Delaware instead of the Dominican” would have done the rhetorical trick, too. I agree, however, that heritage isn't an issue for true believers — just those I don't want to get stuck sitting behind or in front of.
I wrote this about David on August 27, 2005:
Since I was old enough to have flashbacks, I lived in dread of the team that had the young hitter who couldn't be gotten out. He was inextinguishable, certainly when it counted. Whether it was young Dave Parker or Mike Schmidt or Dale Murphy or, more recently, young Albert Pujols or Miguel Cabrera. It killed me that we didn't have one of those hitters who was destined for greatness so he could do to others what others had been doing to us. Well, check it out. Now we do.
He was already a better player than just about every homegrown Met then (an indictment of the mass of homegrown Mets as much as a compliment to Wright). Other than Mex from '84 to '86 and Mike from '99 to '01, I don't know if anybody's had three better consecutive seasons as a Met, regardless of how he got into the uniform. And Wright's a lot younger. We've seen early achievement is no guarantee of endless success (never mind Doc — baseball-reference's similarity metric compares Wright's career to one great player, Duke Snider, and a few very good ones like Bob Horner, Dick Allen, Del Ennis, Scott Rolen and Ken Keltner), but I'll take my chances.
Great tip, dmg. It appears the episode will be available at the VH1 Classic site shortly after it airs (and the network has been known to repeat stuff incessantly, thankfully).
Venezuela, you understand, was used for alliterative purposes, not a subliminal ad for Edgardo Alfonzo.
Ah, well done sir.
Don't know why I ever would have thought otherwise.
Where you get these crazy ideas, I'll never know.
Inside Pitcher: hahahahaha, you just made my week.
He's OK, if you like that type. As far as those matters go, I'm definitely more a Venezuela kinda gal. ;-)
But yeah, the Gold Glove shocked me to my very core. I was totally Pokey Reesed by it. Major WTF?! moment. Love ya to death, kid… but every time the ball leaves your hand, I close my eyes and pray for everyone sitting behind first base. You're positively Knoblauchian. But don't ever leave us.