Telling Stories

Today, reports have surfaced that Roy Halladay has been traded to the Philadelphia Phillies. The rumours have not yet been confirmed, but that seems like a mere formality. In the world of sports reporting, where there's smoke, there's almost always fire. It's awfully hard to keep something of this magnitude under wraps forever.

I was well aware that this moment was coming, I even wrote about it earlier this summer. Roy Halladay and the Blue Jays were going in vastly different directions (Roy was good and the Jays were awful). My plan was to write a snarky, sarcastic piece about the folly of trading arguably the best pitcher in baseball. I might still write that piece. But, I also have to write this one.

I wouldn't consider myself a die-hard Blue Jays fan; I watch a lot of the games, but I've only been to a handful in my life. I've only ever seen Halladay pitch twice in my life. And yet, I feel like I know him. He was undyingly loyal to the Jays. He always, always, performed like a pro. Even as the franchise that employed him was self-combusting all around him, he went out and did his job. At the end of every spectacular outing, as the crowd rose to their feet to applaud the pitching genius, he would tip his hat in a way that seemed so sincere. It didn't hurt that he was one of the very best pitchers of his generation.

For the most part, I am a rational man. I would consider myself more objective than most when it comes to sports analysis. I don't "hate" my favourite teams' rivals. I don't lose sleep based on the outcome of a game. I follow attentively, but somewhat dispassionately. Or so I thought.

When I first read that Roy Halladay had been traded, I didn't have the reaction that I expected. I couldn't even muster a word of sarcasm. I couldn't write something funny here, it wouldn't be sincere. I don't know him, I never will know him, but it still feels like someone in my life is leaving. I'm left to marvel at the attachment I formed with a man that I watched go out and simply do his job once every five days for seven months out of the year. How did I ever get this attached to him? Was his loyalty contrived? Did he go about his work so professionally because he believed in honouring his contract, or because he truly did love the game and the fans?

In watching the sporting spectacle unfold, as fans, we can only ever guess at the motives of the players before us. As the Tiger Woods fiasco demonstrates, an image can be manufactured. As long as we're held at arm's length, we can never truly know the person in question. We are left to guess at who they really are.

Why do I think I know Halladay well enough to be saddened by his trade? I think it has something to do with telling stories. All of our lives are filled with stories. Some stories are private, and some we share with others. As you become more comfortable with someone, you share more of your stories with them. And, in turn, you hear more of their stories. Every five days, for seven months a year, Doc Halladay told stories for us to share in. It always felt like he wanted the fans to share in his stories. It never hurt that he was the best story teller around. And he was our story-teller. Being a fan of a baseball team not named New York, Boston, L.A or Philadelphia is a challenging proposition. Eventually, the talent is going to leave your team for greener pasture. They will be too expensive to keep around, and will probably be traded before they are lost for nothing in free agency. Halladay stuck with the Blue Jays through thick and thin. When J.P Riccardi made his plan to trade Halladay public, Roy remained professional throughout. A lot of people would have taken shots at management for the p.r nightmare that ol' J.P created, but not Roy. Maybe he has very good advisers, or agents, or lawyers, that help him keep his agent so clean, but I don't think so. I am just guessing, but it would take a lot to change my mind about Halladay. That's the story I created for him. Now that he's gone, I'll have to write a new one, about some new hero. I doubt it'll be as good because I won't have as good a co-author.