Big Papi Leaving the Yard

The “should Big Papi stay another year?” debate is as common and heartfelt around Boston as a “Yankees Suck” cheer. Should David Ortiz keep going even though he has repeatedly gone on record saying this, his 20th season, is his last?

During most farewell tours in recent sports history, opponents and fans come out in droves to say goodbye to an aging athlete running on fumes. Lame gifts and unwarranted standing ovations are customary for once-superstars who have overstayed their welcome.

Take Derek Jeter and Kobe Bryant, who serve as cautionary tales. One-time legends whose fleeting abilities didn’t so much fade to black as to old and gray. For both of these obvious Hall of Famers, their best contribution in their respective final seasons was to help sell tickets and free up future salary space. Or take Peyton Manning’s exit, which is muddled with benchings and interceptions, an unlikely Super Bowl title, and shameful rumors about steroid use. Maybe one day the NFL will get over ball inflation and look into some of those much more egregious allegations.

After watching these sad, decomposing bodies and careers, what advice should we offer David Ortiz, the most lovable and important Red Sox player since Ted Williams? What advice can we offer to the man who helped deliver three World Series trophies to a city that was cursed to never see another one? What advice dare we offer to the hero who became the jolly, smiling ambassador of New England, and who claimed Boston back from a pair of terrorist punks?

While other stars petered out, Big Papi has re-inserted himself into relevancy so far this season. The zero-time MVP, all too sporadic all-star, and questionable Hall of Famer, is bucket-listing the hell out of his career before he pulls the plug. If this is farewell tour, it’s faring pretty fucking well.

So far in 2016, Big Papi is top three in the league in batting, home runs, and RBIs and pacing the best offense in the bigs. His production in the majors is far from reaching its final resting place. He is on pace to post career best numbers in major statistical categories like OPS, batting average, and WAR.

Just like he has time and again, Papi has risen up when most counted him out, and that is why, no matter how well this season goes, it should be his last.

Unlike ever before, Big Papi is the Large Father to a team of young, homegrown kids who are also posting incredible numbers. Thanks to Ortiz, guys like Mookie Betts and Xander Bogaerts are seeing more good pitches than ever before, and Travis Shaw and Jackie Bradley Jr. are getting more run-producing opportunities to take advantage of. This should be Papi’s last hurrah because his legacy will live on in these youngins.

Furthermore, David Ortiz should go out now because he doesn’t owe anybody anything. When the Red Sox acquired him in 2003, they were taking a $1 million chance on an underperforming, anticipated slugger. Within two years Papi helped vanquish history and exorcised demons that haunted millions in Red Sox Nation. Three years later, and with a different cast of teammates, Papi brought a second title, and had done the impossible: he was now spoiling millions of Sox fans. And if that weren’t enough, a third championship came through Boston in 2013, thanks to Big Papi batting a jaw-dropping .688 batting average in the World Series.

And though it’s impossible to quantify, Big Papi’s success also manifests itself in an emotional epidemic. His smile could be harnessed for its power and used in renewable energy campaigns. His congenial aura is impossibly contagious. His charm is enough to somehow make Boston, which has been cantankerous since throwing tea into the Harbor in 1773, a happy city. He didn’t tame the shrew, he made her a giddy schoolgirl.

As he’s shown in this season and in his World Series performances, David Ortiz at his best, is a phenomenon. He is breathtaking in his dominance. He is always there in the clutch. And he can positively dominate a night, even from the DH spot.

And that’s the Papi we should be thrilled to say goodbye to. He is the optimistic lifeblood of Boston. When Papi is at bat, Boston has no doubts and no better options.

Papi should heed the cautionary tales of Jeter, Bryant, and Manning, one-time legends who left bad tastes in the mouths of their respective fanbases. Their disappointing goodbyes are fresh reminders of what Papi has to lose for himself, if his career extends beyond this apex. What are a few more home run tallies if they come with potential letdown and shame?

Much like the narrative behind Big Papi’s career arc, no one is going to tell him what to do or when to do it. But I don’t want to watch him limp away quietly and regretfully. I want to see him walk assuredly down the steps of the Red Sox dugout, preferably with a fourth ring.

Big Papi isn’t making it hard for us to say goodbye, he is making it easy, by throwing himself the greatest going away party we have ever seen.

May his career die like it lived, fueling hope in a city.