Dear David Ortiz,
As your final season in baseball has come to a close, and Red Sox fans all over the state (and the world) have been thanking you for your contributions to Major League Baseball, I decided that I should write you a letter as well. While I could repeat what everyone else has said and congratulate you on your home runs, batting average, or overall wins, I have decided to go a different route. Because while your career with my hometown team has been incredible, and you should be acknowledged for all of your success, you represent so much more than winning a game.
You came to Boston in 2003, when I was seven years old. Baseball was the only sport I could tolerate watching then, as hockey was too aggressive, golf was too boring, and football was too confusing. My family had season tickets to the Red Sox, and I had already gone to a bunch of games by this point in my life. I admit, I didn't really know who you were during your first year with my team, but my dad was very excited about you, so I knew you were going to be good. You became a part of the Red Sox family, and I embraced you openly and whole-heartedly.
My dad's high esteem of you proved to be rightfully so as 2004 was one of the best years in baseball for the Red Sox, and consequently one of the best years of my life. While I was only in third grade, I distinctly remember so many details of that baseball season. I remember your bond with Jason Varitek, Manny Ramirez, Pedro Martinez, Tim Wakefield, Curt Shillings, and Kevin Millar. I remember watching your winning single in the longest game in post-season history against the Yankees. I remember sleeping over my grandmother's house when you played the Cardinals in the World Series, and staying up all night to watch you step up to the plate. I remember eating Reverse the Curse ice cream weeks later after you helped bring our team to victory in our first World Series win in 86 years.
But that was not all that you did. You were there in 2007 and 2013 for two more World Series wins, as well as the several other seasons full of blood, sweat, and tears, the wins and the losses. You made it through a difficult separation from your wife, which ended in reconciliation and more support than ever. You did charity work. You raised three children. You were an inspiration and hero worldwide, especially in the Dominican Republic. You were strength, faith, and love.
As I said, however, you represent so much more than these things to me. You are a reminder of my family and the bond I have shared with them throughout so many years of my life. You have connected me to my dad in ways that are indescribable, to the point where I watched your last game with our team on October 2nd by his side. You are in one of my last memories with my grandmother as we watched the 2004 World Series together before she passed away in 2006. And you are the symbol of why my uncles Punch, Ted, and Cato and cousins Alex, Pete, and Henry keep close ties to my family even though they live all over the United States. Your presence brings people closer in ways you wouldn't believe, and I will always thank you for that.
You represent the rush of entering Fenway Park, the smells of popcorn and Fenway franks, the cheering, the high-fives, the tears of joy. You represent excitement, the love of the game, the hope that we could win something and stay bonded in Boston Pride. You are the one player who has been constant throughout my love of this game, as many of my favorites switched teams (like Manny Ramirez), became traitors (Ellsbury...), or retired (Pedro Martinez). You are our backbone, someone who was always there when everything around was changing. You never left my side.
Most importantly, you represent home. No matter where I go in life, I will always be a Red Sox fan, someone who is committed to this city and this team for as long as I shall live. You have shown me that Boston is one hell of a special place, and I would be a fool if I did not keep it a part of me for the rest of my life. You are called Big Papi for a reason: you are a father figure for us all, and all these years you have made us all feel comfortable, respected, and protected within our city's walls. For that, I am eternally grateful.
While we lose you as a player in our game, and the Red Sox and baseball will never be the same without you, you are not gone. You will continue to leave your footprints in the dugout; your wise words will remain in the minds of current players and players to come; and the memories you are a part of can never be brushed away. You are truly a remarkable human being, Ortiz, and you should forever be celebrated.
I love you, my family loves you, my city loves you, we ALL love you, and we cannot express enough how much you mean to us. Keep providing us with hope every day, and never forget the impact you have left on us throughout these amazing years.
#ThankYouPapi #34
Love,
Abriana
