Poor David Wright.
He looks so sad, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.
That’s been how he’s looked for the entire Alderson Era, in fact.
Gone the puppyish glee, the eager bounce to his step.
These days he looks skyward, beseechingly, and sadly walks back to the dugout.
Then he checks his bank account.
He’s made his choices.
So, yeah, I don’t feel sorry for David Wright. He saw the plan, and as far as I can tell it looked like this:
HERE’S THE PLAN
We give you a s**tload of money!
A lot has been said about this “face of the franchise.” Young, talented, handsome, pure as the driven show. Yeah, maybe.
But actually I think it’s his new face that fits the franchise even better.
Confused, lost, disappointed, self-pitying.
But like Jeff, and Fred, and Sandy, David Wright knew enough to take care of #1.
Don’t worry about any of those guys. They’ll be fine. They made sure of it.
To be clear, I’m not against David Wright. I’m against feeling sorry for David Wright. Sad and depressed, he has truly become the face that best represents the entire New York Mets franchise: A great thing squandered, flushed in Flushing.