Jealous Again

I turn 37 later this week, a rather useless placeholder on the overall birthday roster. I don't get any new privileges, my insurance rates stay the same, and I'm one click on the dial closer to 40. I thought about doing something futile and stupid in celebration, like getting a tattoo or piercing something, but my time for those things has passed. Instead, I'm commemorating the passing of another year by inaugurating a futile and stupid semi-regular feature here at G:TB.

By most measures (except height - most definitely not height) I'm a reasonably successful incarnation of the modern American middle class male. Like most of us, I harbored dreams in early childhood of playing professional sports, then realized I hated horses so my only realistic avenue closed fairly early in life. I'm a realist by nature, so I moved on, wanting to be a sportswriter before spending time in press boxes and realizing what miserable douchewhistles most scribes become after a few years on the job.

Around that time, I decided I could be a Division I athletic director, or the GM of a professional franchise. Coincidentally and fortunately, I concurrently realized that while I'm a fairly bright lad, I'm also substantially lazy. The dreams of the young die hard, though in my case they mostly just laid down and took a nap. One of the artifacts of this history is a lifelong fascination and appreciation for those among us that are able to pour their hearts, souls, and time into the pursuit of, well, of anything that matters to them. Frankly, I'm jealous.

In the first installment of "Jealous Again", we examine the Theo Epstein phenomenon. His hiring as the General Manager of the Boston Red Sox in 2002 at the age of 28 triggered an epidemic of what-have-I-done-with-my-life soul searching amongst a certain segment of Red Sox Nation, present company very much included. On the surface, he's a lot like me - lifelong Sox fan, smart as a whip, willing to put in backbreaking effort to achieve success...oh, right.

Upon learning more about Theo in the myriad stories written about his ascension to the dream job of legions, and the single-minded dedication and massive amount of work he put in to be successful, it was that "oh, right" realization that erased any predisposition towards irrational jealousy. I'm nothing if not self-aware, and I know damn well that I'm not willing to work that hard for anything, so my jealousy in this case leans more towards the awestruck variety.

From day one with the Sox, despite predictable missteps here and there, Theo's proven to be up to the job and then some. In a town where he could be a rock star (and sometimes pretends to be one), his aversion to publicity and low-key persona have elevated him to near-mythic status. With the 2004 World Series under his belt and a historically unprecedented run of success for the Sox during his tenure, Theo's place in Boston lore is already secure, right down to the gorilla suit he wore to escape the hungry press corps.

At 33 Theo Epstein's been GM of one of sports' most visible franchises for nearly 5 years. He's overseen the team's first championship in 86 years, directed the organization to 3 playoff appearances in 4 seasons with a strong shot at making it 4 for 5 and rebuilt the farm system. He's done it while bucking many of baseball's long-held truisms. Despite his aversion to personal publicity, he's leveraged his local fame extensively in support of a broad range of charitable efforts. He plays guitar in a rock band and recently married a really gorgeous girl. Hell, he succeeds in family selection - his brother-in-law wrote Capote. Even Yankee fans have to tip their cap.

So I return to this: am I jealous? Without question, if only because that description is more socially acceptable than man-crush. So here's to you, Theo, you nose-to-the-grindstone bastard. Long may you reign.