Thnks Fr Th Mmrs

Dear Albert, also known as:

"El Hombre"(an alias you've never actually assumed),

"Phat Albert," "The Machine,"

"Prince Albert" and "The Mang,"

Minute Maid's train

I will always remember that October night in 2005

when baseball fans coined the term "Lidged,"

for epically blown saves.

You sent Brad Lidge's pitch soaring

through Minute Maid Park, over the Crawford boxes,

and onto the railroad tracks.

Three runs scored, and the Houston crowd was so silent

I bet they heard the dirt fall from your cleats

as you step on home plate.  They had been so loud

that the TV crew kept mentioning the decibel level, marveling

at each new high.  After the umpteenth update I had wanted something

to steal the breath from the crowd, and was thinking of all the ways

I would break that infernal meter myself.  The louder

that crowd became, the more desperation replaced

hope in my heart and the louder the disbelief and doubt

pounded between my ears, but your home run restored my world.

I had Cardinals baseball for one more night.

In 2009, you hit five grand slams.  My favorite

was during this game against the Mets.  That game was a thrill

because the team had just done the impossible

against K-Rod-- scored not only one, but two runs to force

extra innings.  The only problem 

was it occurred shortly after that long, crazy

15 inning game against the Dodgers.  My nerves

couldn't handle another one of those games so soon.  You

saved my sanity with those insurance runs.

Last summer you stroked a double

for your 2000th hit.  As you stood on second, fighting

tears and acknowledging the crowd, I bet you could hear

how the crowd's congratulatory applause sounded

an awful lot like "please stay."  

You didn't stay.  I was relieved

that the Cardinals hadn't signed you to a ten year deal.  Relieved

because I wouldn't have to watch you at forty, hobbling to first

on a grounder to third.  There will be only good moments

for me to recall, spectacular memories to smile and mull over.

I am happy I saw you play ball

for eleven historic years.  And I am sad that there are only

eleven years of memories.  I am sad that your 3000th hit

and 500th home run won't come in a Cardinal uniform.

It would have been the perfect

story, wouldn't it?  It would've been sweet

if you had continued your starring role in St. Louis-- the city embraced

you because you so fully embodied our beloved team-- playing

for the fans who watched the central role you held in the Cardinal

memories formed since your debut.

In December, this letter would've only said:

Thnks fr th mmrs & good rddnce, #@!%! 

I feel no ill will now, and there's only this left to say:

Thanks for the memories, and good luck!

Good Bye.