If you were five years old when David Wright debuted for the Mets, you're probably in college or working now. If you were in college on July 21, 2004, maybe you have kids and a mortgage. If you were 21 years old that day, as Wright was, you're nearly 36 now, with two daughters and a back, neck and shoulder that bark at you every morning.
Why was Wright crying at the podium on Thursday afternoon, while announcing plans to end his baseball career after one final appearance? Why were you probably a little weepy too, watching at home or following along online?
Standing in the back of the room as Wright spoke, feeling an unmistakable heaviness in the air, what struck me was the passage of time, the reminder of our own fragility, and unmistakable sense that no matter how much success we enjoy, or money we make, the only guarantee about anything is that it will eventually end...