We saw it

Pantheist Mom and another friend and our husbands and kids and my nephew. We all saw it.

The last at bat in our team's uniform of a certain tantrum-prone future Hall of Famer. There were many, many camera flashes. I hoped he would swing hard and go out on a high note. Maybe he tried, maybe he didn't. He flied out to center.

I can't say I'm sad. As great a bat as he swings, he crossed that invisible line this year from the the light to the dark. He became a drain on the team's psyche as the antics increased. Heck, my four year old behaves more maturely that he has.

We knew they were trying hard to trade him. On games like last night's, typically he would have been done in the 8th or 9th, the outfield shuffled. But there he was in the top of the 9th, out there in front of the wall. One last time.

And it was time.

Good luck, Manny. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

But, OH! The new guy! I always liked Canada. Mr. Bay, we are ready to embrace you and teach you what it means to be loved by an entire nation. It's like nothing you have ever known before.

Get ready, because we are...

UPDATE, THE NEXT MORNING: S has always had a soft spot for Manny. She has called him, "My hero!" and gets excited when he is up to bat. This morning C and I carefully told S about Manny being traded. She cried. Hard.

About 20 minutes later, after a donut, S said, "Mommy, Manny can still be my hero."

Yes, S, I guess he can.