2008 is the year Jon Lester rewrites his story. Again.
2006 was the year of the diagnosis. The year Jon, just 22 years old and in his rookie year, experienced severe lingering back pain that landed him on the DL just two months after his major league debut. The year he discovered that back pain wasn't what he thought, wasn't the aftereffect of a fender bender... it was cancer. The year he fielded questions from a mob of reporters about anaplastic large cell lymphoma during an emotional press conference. The year he faced down months of chemotherapy, and pitying looks from folks who thought he'd be lucky to make it through treatment but never really expected to see him pitch again. And then, in December, it became the year of remission, the year the scans ran clean, the year cancer was beaten back.
2007 was the year of redemption. The year Jon, just 23 years old and a few months removed from chemotherapy, reported to spring training. The year he was more than a few pounds lighter, but stronger in mind and spirit than before. The year he made a triumphant return to the mound in July and pitched the Sox to a victory in Cleveland, bringing tears to the eyes of just about everyone watching. The year he helped fill out a Sox rotation desperate for some new blood. The year he took the hill in Game 4 in Colorado when the ailing veteran stepped aside. The year he got to hug the World Series Trophy and then hug his ecstatic parents and celebrate being a World Champion. But it was also still the year that he was so often labeled "that cancer kid, Jon Lester", and the year that his miraculous comeback from lymphoma was still so fresh that it didn't just inspire others... it often overshadowed him.
2008 is the year of renewal, of change, of a new beginning. The year Jon, just 24 years old, threw his first career complete game, his first career shutout, and his first career no-hitter... all in the same night. The year his comrades vaulted over the dugout fence and the bullpen wall with crazy grins to get in a hug and a fistpound and a dance of celebration. The year he was lifted in the air by his batterymate, while his teammates raucously jumped around him. The year that his manager, the guy Jon described as a second father, clung to him just a little tighter and a little longer and made everyone tear up. The year that maybe, just possibly, the media stops going for the easy storyline, the vaguely manipulative use of his battle with lymphoma-- and the year he goes from being "Jon Lester, that kid who had cancer" to "Jon Lester, that kid who threw a no-hitter". The year that he finally gets to experience being a normal guy again... if your definition of "normal guy" includes "normal guy who throws a no-hitter". The year his victory over cancer becomes PART of his story, and not THE story.
Last night, Jon Lester rewrote history. He blazed his way into the record books of the Red Sox, throwing the 18th no-hitter in the club's history and the first lefty to toss one in 52 years, and the record books of MLB, becoming the first pitcher of the season to toss a no-no and the first to do so since his teammate back in September. But with that final fastball to Alberto Callaspo, that final swinging strike, Jon Lester didn't just rewrite the record books of history... he also rewrote his story.
video courtesy of NESN
big thanks to SURVIVING GRADY for the clip!
on May 20, 2008 8:37 AM
Wow. Outstanding piece, the best I've read so far this morning.
True story: I listened to the game on the radio, then bolted upstairs to watch the 9th on TV. JL promptly walks the first batter. I turn of the TV immediately, run back downstairs to listen to the radio for the finish. Yes, I am that superstitious.
But it worked.