Well, I hope you're happy, Ike Davis. I hope you're happy with your decision to go ahead and play on Yom Kippur 5770. After all, with your team wallowing in fourth place, 13 games out and going nowhere, your contributions on the field were absoultely necessary--nay, even vital--to assuring your team's success yesterday. I hope you're happy about going 0-for-4 with three strikeouts and leaving a runner in scoring position during yet another lackluster Mets loss. I hope you're happy about going completely against your heritage as a Jew (and a halachic Jew, at that--not just a "cultural" Jew with a Jewish father), an act which Jewish luminaries of the sport, much more famous and talented than you--Hank Greenberg, Sandy Koufax and Shawn Green--have avoided while at the same time being in either pennant races or the World Series.
Isaac Benjamin Davis?
Go to your room, young man.

TODAY'S BOOK: "Have You Seen Hyacinth Macaw?", by Patricia Reilly Giff ((c) 1981)

Labels: baseball