I WANT TO BELIEVE...

by Matt Minucci

I want to believe…but…

In 1978, when the Yankees trailed the Red Sox by 14 games in July, I believed. When they were four games out going into Fenway Park for a four game series, I believed.

In 1979, after the tragic death of Thurman Munson, I still believed in you.    

Still miss ya Thurm.    

I want to believe, I really do.  When the Yankees trailed the Blue Jays by 3 games with 3 to play in 1985, I believed. Even when the season rested on the narrow shoulders of Eddie Lee Whitson, I believed.

In 1986, with two outs and nobody on base and the Mets needing a miracle to win, I believed.

Don't worry Sox Fans...you got 2004 in your pocket now.

In 1988, when a crippled Kirk Gibson faced off against the unhittable Dennis Eckersley, I believed in you.

I still get chills, 20 years later.

In 1989, despite the tragic loss of life from the San Francisco earthquake, I believed in you.

In 1994 I stopped believing. Only for a little while. My heart was broken. You tore it right out and ripped it to shreds. The Yankees and Expos were the two best teams in a season that for all intents and purposes, never happened.

Baseball really cared about it's core fan base in '94

But 1995 started and I was sucked back in. You teased me and tantalized me with Don Mattingly’s first playoff series after so many failed seasons. You tricked me with Jim Leyritz’s titanic blast to win game 2 vs. Seattle. The final game of that series was a game for the ages. And when the World Series between Cleveland and Atlanta went 7 games, once more, I believed in you.

In 1996 the Yankees, behind Joe Torre, won their first World Championship in 18 years. And I believed in you.

Torre showed the Daily News - and all of NY - who was really clueless in '96

In 1998 the Yankees were the best team to ever take the field with a 125-50 record and another World Series championship. And I believed in you more than ever. The majesty of the chase for 61. Roger Maris’s memories. The titanic blasts of McGwire and Sosa. I was in love all over again. I overlooked the bottle of andro in your locker as nothing important – mere diet pills or something. I didn’t want you to end in 1998. I believed in you.

McGwire rides off into the sunset before it all went bad.

In 1999 and 2000 the Yankees were winning two more World Series, and my belief in you was unyielding, unending and undying.

In 2001 you were there for me, easing the pain of terrorism with your warm embrace. A bittersweet 7 game series between the Yankees and Diamondbacks showed me how magical and wonderful you could be. I believed in you. In the majesty and magic that was baseball.

In 2002, I was still lost in the rapture that was you. Some troglodyte named Ken Caminiti tried to besmirch your honor by claiming that 50% of you were on drugs. We laughed him off as a washed up, bitter old drunk.

What the hell did Caminiti know anyway?

In 2003 and 2004, you had a 700^th homerun and a 300^th win. I was so happy for you, yet something seemed odd about you. You looked bigger, stronger…faster. Balls were hit farther. Pitches were thrown faster. You looked great, don’t get me wrong. But I missed the old you. A little rougher around the edges, but you made up for it in so many other ways.

Suddenly it was 2005 and we were starting to have our problems. More than just normal problems, I sensed we were headed for a divorce. There were nasty allegations. The “cream” and the “clear” haunted my dreams. You were dragged through the mud on Capitol Hill. The McGwires, Sosas, Bonds, Palmeiros and Cansecos of the world had heaped piles of garbage atop you. I begged you to tell me it was all a lie. Tell me it wasn’t true. But you couldn’t look me in the eye. Wouldn’t.

ARod in love. 

Then George Mitchell came out with his awful report, and you started dropping players like flies. Like hairs falling out of a balding head, the names fell at my feet. Clemens. Pettitte. Giambi. Tejada. Piazza. Belle. Sheffield. Boone. And on and on. More names than I could bear. You begged me, pleaded with me. You told me it could all be like it was before. There would be drug testing like the IBF. You’d get clean and stay clean.

You're a dick.

But I don’t believe you anymore. I don’t believe in you anymore. I’ve been hurt too many times by your lies. Hurt too many times by your cheating. I’m done.

Baseball can kiss my asterick.

And then you introduced me to Albert Pujols.  Albert is the 29 year old first baseman for the St. Louis Cardinals.  He’s been in the league for 9 years. In those 9 years, Prince Albert has won a rookie of the year and two MVPs. He’s a career .334 hitter with 351 homers and 1064 RBIs.

Pujols is not on steroids. No, really. Seriously.

His seasons look like this:

2001    .329-37-130  112 runs, 194 hits, .610 slugging, 47 2Bs

2002    .314-34-127  118 runs, 185 hits, .561 slugging, 40 2Bs

2003    .359-43-124  137 runs, 212 hits, .667 slugging, 51 2Bs (won batting title)

2004    .331-46-123  133 runs, 196 hits, .657 slugging, 51 2Bs

2005    .330-41-117  129 runs, 195 hits, .609 slugging, 38 2Bs

2006    .331-49-137  119 runs, 177 hits, .671 slugging, 33 2Bs           

2007    .327-32-103    99 runs, 185 hits, .568 slugging, 38 2Bs

2008    .357-37-116  100 runs, 187 hits, .653 slugging, 44 2Bs

For 2009, at the all star break, he’s threatening to win the triple crown:

2009    .332-32-87  73 runs, 102 hits, .723 slugging, 22 2Bs

Those numbers are over just 90 games.

Pujols' flaming bat never fails to strike terror into the opposing pitcher.

We all assume Pujols is on some sort of performance enhancing substance. But he vehemently denies any involvement. In a recent USA Today article, he had this to say:

Pujols says he was tested six times last year as part of MLB's drug policy. But if that's not good enough, Pujols vows to take a test every day and, if he is caught using performance-enhancing drugs, he says, he will pay back the Cardinals every penny he has earned.

"Come test me every day if you want," says Pujols, who has the most home runs at the All-Star break since Barry Bonds hit 39 and Luis Gonzalez hit 35 in 2001. "Everything I ever made in this game I would give back to the Cardinals if I got caught."

Pujols realizes America is looking for a hero. He is volunteering, only if America will let him.

"I can understand why people don't know who they can trust or their hero was caught," says Pujols, who has finished first or second in the National League MVP balloting in five of his eight seasons, with numbers remaining consistent before and since steroid testing began in 2003. "I want to be the guy people look up to. But I want to be the person who represents God, represents my family and represents the Cardinals the right way.

"So many people can't wait until I do something negative. I can't understand it. That's sad, because I want to be that poster boy in baseball. Just give me the chance."

Baseball, and Albert Pujols, want a chance. Just one more chance. One more chance to make us fall in love with them all over again.

I want to believe….but…

It's just not that easy.