An Open Letter to Trot Nixon

Dear Trot,

Man, this s*cks.

This hurts, buddy. More than I imagined it would. More than Johnny Damon ever did.

I have been watching this game a long time, and I don’t often get too sentimental about ballplayers. They come and they go, and usually, when their time in a Boston uniform is up, I thank them for their service and move on. But this time, with you…it’s different. I’m depressed and morose. I feel like I’ve been ****** punched, even though I knew it was coming. I had held out a faint ray of hope that perhaps you would be resigned and share duties with Wily Mo, but when the Drew signing was announced I knew you were a dead man walking. But, still, when I read today you had signed with the Indians, it hit me like five tons of bricks. I almost cried. I’m getting choked up as I write this.

Oh, yes, I know there will be those are saying you’re too injury prone; your production has dropped off; JD Drew is a perfect 5-hole guy, and you are not; you can’t hit lefties; you aren’t right for the Red Sox anymore.

But they’re wrong, even though all of that may be right. You and the Red Sox have always been a perfect match.

I remember the day they announced your signing, in 1993, the 7^th pick in the draft. Boy, did they beat the drums for you at the time. We were all excited to have such a promising up-and-comer in our farm system.

I remember watching you many a time in the Boston dugout after a strikeout or a bad play, with a scowl on your face. You were so intense, took every play to heart. I don’t know if I’ve seen you smile five times in all the years I’ve watched you, but that intensity is part of what makes you so endearing. I mean, is there any other player in the history of baseball who got tossed from a game while he was on the DL?

I remember that homer you clubbed against Clemens in 2000. What a great game that was. Top of the ninth at Yankee Stadium, Rocket and Pedro matching each other pitch for pitch. I remember leaping out of my seat cheering when that ball flew out of the park. That was only one of many big hits you had off my arch enemy Clemens, the greatest pitcher of his generation.

I remember that ongoing NASCAR competition you had going with Sean and Jerry a few years ago. That was a riot, even though I know absolutely nothing about NASCAR. But it was great because it gave us a little taste of who you were and what you liked outside the ballpark. We fans like a little of that information. Did you miss Sean when he left? I know I did…

I remember the 2004 World Series. That was a great time, wasn’t it? I can see you now lacing that ball off the right field wall at Busch Stadium to give the Sox a 3-0 lead. You did yourself proud in that series, hitting .357 while all the world watched. Congratulations on coming up big when it mattered most.

I remember the ovation you received as you ran off right field for the last time as a Red Sox outfielder. I remember your gracious words to the press afterwards. A lot of players, knowing they were going to be cut loose, would not have been so kind. I think I can speak for all of RSN when I say I was amazed by your seeming lack of bitterness. But you knew the fans loved you, and that’s who you were speaking to.

So, goodbye, Trot, my favorite Dirt Dog, and good luck. But only for now. I hope to see you back in a Red Sox capacity some day, on the field or in the broadcast booth. Please know we love you and will miss your dedication, work ethic and passion every day. We can replace the body in right field, maybe even with someone who’s technically a “better” ballplayer, but your heart and soul will live on forever in the Fenway Faithful.

And don’t wash your hat in Cleveland, either.

Much love,

Lisa