A farewell to an arm

Dear C.J. Wilson,

First of all, thank you for the 16 wins in the 2011 season. You might not have had great success in October, but I will not overlook the effort you gave to make sure the Rangers were indeed playing in October for a second straight year.

Also, extend my thanks to include the last seven years. You were one of the few remaining pieces of that 2005 Rangers team I fell in love with.  I remember being nervous when you came out of the bullpen back then.  You definitely weren't my favorite pitcher.  (Your then roommate, Kameron Loe, had that honor.)  But you grew on me.  Your charity work, your communication with fans via social media (although you were still pretty unapproachable in person, in my experience) and your unique personality.  I was nervous when you moved from closer to starter, but you quickly showed me I shouldn't be. Again, over the next few seasons, you won me over.  You seem to have that odd power.  Even when I was convinced I didn't like you, you would make me like you.

I think it's safe to say those days are over. 

I do not fault you for looking out for your interests -- financially and personally.  I'm sure you're thrilled to be returning to the area in which you grew up, and the Angels offered you a financial package you couldn't refuse.  But, as you can probably understand, I can no longer cheer for you.  Not while you're in the uniform of a major division rival. 

It's not personal, it's business. 

One of the hardest lessons I've learned as a baseball fan is the business side of it.  I have gotten attached to several players only to see them leave for greener pastures (or Japan).  It broke my heart each time.  I may have cried over a few of them.  Ugly cried.  But it seems I have matured or hardened my heart a little. 

I will not cry over your departure, Mr. Wilson. 

Again, I thank you for your time as a Ranger. Thank you, thank you, thank you for being a part of the team that emerged from the basement of the AL West and became a legitimate contender year after year. 

But I must also say goodbye to you now.  Our time is over.  I wish you the best (off the field, of course).   I know you understand.

 

Love,

Me