The End of an Era

Today marks the end of an era. Although brief, it was filled with joy, excitement, and enough thrills to last a lifetime. I was lucky enough to attend a game in which Eric Gagne entered through the bullpen gates at Dodger Stadium, "Welcome to the Jungle" blaring and 50,000 mellow Southern-Californians turned into 50,000 rabid fans.

In Los Angeles, and around the country, the joke is that Dodger fans arrive late, and leave early. Much of this can be attributed to the laid-back lifestyle that most of us are used to, and well, the traffic. It's a phenomenon that I myself don't abide by, but understand and have come to expect just like gridlock on 101 during rush hour. When Eric Gagne took over as the closer for the Los Angeles Dodgers in 2002, and Guns 'n' Roses started blaring of the Dodger Stadium PA, the ninth inning changed forever.

No longer did the casual Dodger fans head for the exits before the top of the ninth. People stayed because each time Gagne entered the game, it was an event. The crowd would rise and cheer and the noise level would reach decibels normally reserved for playoff game atmospheres. Cameras would flash hoping to to catch a glimpse of their local folk-hero, and In would come our stocky, goggle wearing, goateed closer, and out would go the other team, often times with a scream and a trademark fist pump to emphatically shut the door.

When he first broke in as a starter with the Dodgers, I will admit, that I was not a fan. He could never quite handle the game and mistakes were always just around the corner. He would look great for a few innings and then implode with a few home runs. 2002 started with the Dodgers with much uncertainty in the bullpen. Then the transformation took place from an underachieving starter to maybe the most dominant closer in Major League history. I'm not sure how it happened, many will attribute it to steroid use, but he became a new pitcher, a new person. He no longer looked like a overmatched pitcher that didn't belong on a Major League mound. He was now the face of intimidation. Armed with his high-90's fastball, a "Bugs-Bunny" volcan change-up, and a slow rolling curveball, he became unhittable.

In 2003, it all came together in a Cy Young Award winning season. With video game like numbers (56 for 56 in saves, 1.20 ERA, and 137 K's in 82.1 innings) he took the National League by storm. When the Dodgers had a lead going to the ninth, it was "GAME OVER." But his place in Los Angeles was not about the numbers. It was about the surge of energy that Eric Gagne brought everytime he toed the rubber. It was about the air of invibility that surrounded him everytime he made his slow jog in from the pen. It was how he made us stay.

I remember watching the Dodgers play the Yankees on television. The final pitch he threw was about a 69 mph curveball that absolutely froze Bernie Williams and sent me flying off the coach and screaming into a pillow. The amazing part wasn't that I lost it (I frequently do when watching sports), but that the uncomparable Vin Scully did too. "OH MY GOSH! WHAT A PITCH!!" Now those of you that have listened to Vin know that very rarely if ever does ever get excited to the point where he will gasp in amazement. But as this pitch fell into the glove, he and I screamed simultaneously. That was the effect Eric Gagne had on those who watched him.

Today, Eric Gagne has reportedly signed a one year contract with the Texas Rangers. I do not feel any bitterness. I do not feel sadness either. Something happened in his elbow two years ago. The invulnerability that was once there left. It wasn't the other team you were worried about, it was his own body. We still wanted to believe that someday he would come back. That he would be that same guy that converted 84 consecutive saves, that blew away batters with a 97 mph heat, that would come through the bullpen gates music blaring, and Scully's familiar voice announcing his entrance, "Bienvenue Monsieur Gagne." Deep down, we knew that would never happen. Still we hung on to the memory of his greatness. We scoured the paper looking for updates on his health, and signs that he was coming back. We loved watching him cheer on his teammates in the dugout, and watching old video clips of him leaping off the mound to high five his catcher as the opposing batter walked away with his head down. As he rides off down to Texas, I have one thing left to say. Au revoir Monsieur Gagne. Thanks for the memories.

Witnessing Greatness with My Own Two Eyes

I sit here, one day later, images of Reggie Bush's latest touchdown playing through my head. Just a little flare out to a rookie running back, innocent at first glance, that turns into one of those "OH MY GOD!" moments in sports. One, that even as you're watching it, you are already waiting to see the instant replay.

It was just a year ago now, that Reggie Bush was still in college, and captivating the sports world with breathtaking plays and numerous moments that made people stand up out of their seat, or stop what they were doing and watch him run. His 2005 Heisman campaign was filled with these types of moments where as the viewer, you knew you were witnessing something special and that's why we stopped. We knew that every once in a while, an athlete comes along that does things that can't be matched. A guy who's speed is just a little faster. Who's home runs go just a bit farther. This was Reggie's case. Every single time he touched the football, you felt like something special could happen. Something that you didn't want to miss.

For the younger generation such as myself, we've heard about athletes like this from generations past. When our parent tells you, "there was no one like Walter Payton," or "I've never seen anyone better than Sandy Koufax," we nod our head's in acknowledgement, and even watch old videos just to see for ourselves, but we don't fully appreciate what it was like to watch someone so great because you don't get the true feeling from watching old tapes.

Well Reggie Bush was our guy. Never in my life have I stopped what I was doing to watch a single athlete (Okay, that's a lie, but not quite the same as I did with Bush). I would be thrilled to see that the USC football game was on TV, because it was another chance to witness greatness at its best. I've always thought sports can't be summed up in words. Its the feeling you get that make them special. Watching Reggie, you always had that feeling. That cross somewhere between excitement and anticipation ready to burst from you in a gasp of disbelief.

Now, I've seen some great accomplishments in sports. I watched Tiger Woods dominate the U.S. Open at Pebble Beach and win by 15 strokes. I watched Michael Johnson outrun the camera at the Atlanta Olympics. But those were singular moments, Reggie's was an entire season. I watched as he took over perhaps the greatest game I've ever seen in Notre Dame, or as he emerged from a pile at Washington and speed off into the endzone. I saw him make moves that left me on my phone to friends asking, "DID YOU JUST SEE THAT?"

His effortless strides and physics defying cuts have left another defender grasping for air, as his black Saints jersey has turned into a flash of white from a towel that drags behind in his wake. It feels special, and I feel lucky to be watching as Reggie glides by the final Dallas defender, ball outstretched as he enters the endzone. Yet another play that has left me standing up and shouting. Thirty years from now, as I will watch my kids emulate their own favorite sports heroes, I'll start, "Let me tell you about a guy named Reggie Bush..."