Castellini and his partners purchased the team from Lindner and immediately started using words such as “competitive, pride, and winning.†They made a decisive move right off the bat by firing bumbling general manager Dan O’Brien and replacing him with Wayne Krivsky, a well-respected man from a successful front office in Minnesota. Instead of bemoaning their small-market status as an excuse for not improving the roster, the new ownership signed the Reds most dynamic young player, Adam Dunn, to a contract extension. The status quo no longer seems acceptable to Castellini and company.
But why can’t Bob just leave well enough alone? I’d reached the acceptance stage– how do you go back from that? How do you un-die? Does this man not realize the havoc he may be about the unleash? Reds fans may actually start caring again. We might actually start thinking beyond Memorial Day. We might feel the sting of a blown save in early June, and feel the exhilaration of a walk-off homerun in late August. Hope may be re-born. And with re-born hope comes the possibility of dashed dreams, broken hearts, and maddening summer nights. I thought I’d left all that in the past.
I know this feeling. I just hadn’t been able to put it into words like this.
And this:
Now, I’m investing in the Reds again. Investing in a stock that has gone belly up for the past decade. I’ll have no one to blame but myself when my return comes up empty again this year. Actually, I will. I’ll blame Bob. I’ll blame Bob for bringing me back from the peaceful quiet of acceptance stage.
The wound had closed. The scar barely visible. Now, Castellini has come back and re-opened that wound. In one hand, he holds my hopes and dreams of a winning team in Cincinnati. In the other hand, he holds a giant salt-shaker, ominously eyeing my old wound.
It feels good, though, doesn’t it?