This morning started out beautifully. I woke up early, had a great workout, crushed some work, and ordered the last thing on my Christmas shopping list. I was feeling good, feeling accomplished. I was ready to take on anything Thursday could throw at me.
Then I looked at Instagram.
Washington Nationals TV broadcaster F.P. Santangelo posted a selfie he took after the Nationals won the World Series. It was with Anthony Rendon, my favorite baseball player. (Sorry Christian Yelich, you’re a very close second.)
Rendon is incredible. I’m primarily a Milwaukee Brewers fan, but I caught Nats fever during their World Series run, and I have to admit he’s the best third baseman in baseball. Line drives? No problem. Foul ball heading to the stands? He’s got it. Ball hit just over his head? He’s got ups. Oh, and did I mention he can hit? Rendon is one of the most consistent hitters in baseball.
Then there’s his attitude. Cool, calm, laid back. Have you ever watched his facial expressions during games? When he’s up to bat, he’s not scowling or stressed. He’s focused and relaxed. When he’s out in the field, nothing but smiles. He’s a high-fiving, dugout-dancing, goofy-grinning bundle of pure baseball joy.
He’s also great to look at. But that’s neither here nor there.
At first glance, Santangelo’s post made me smile. Two of my favorite baseball guys, sharing an incredible World Series celebratory moment. Then I read the caption.
“This post Game 7 selfie of the champagne drenched Anthony Rendon might be my fav pic ever!! Smile and be happy for the man!!!” (I am, F.P., I am!)
“The best smile and third baseman in baseball is going to Disneyland!” (Aw, he’s taking his kid and wife to Disneyland? What a great guy!)
“Congrats Tony, you earned this big time, and you’ll forever be a 2019 World Champ.” (Heck, yes!)
“We thank you, and we will miss you.” (Wait, what?)
Thinking there had been a mistake, I checked Google, where to my horror, I found confirmation of Santangelo’s post. Our own Rendon is leaving the Nationals and going to the Los Angeles Angels.
I hate Los Angeles. Mostly because it’s home to the Dodgers, and I hate the Dodgers. Before Thursday, the only team I hated more than the Dodgers was the Chicago Cubs. Now, it’s the Angels. I hope every Washington Nationals fan will grind this ax with me.
First, Gerardo Parra, who brought the Baby Shark phenomenon to Nats Park, signs with a Japanese team. Now, this? It’s too much for one person to take!
The stages of grief are in full effect. I’m still heavy in the shock and denial phase, but give me another hour before anger and bargaining set in. I’m pretty confident the depression and reflection stage will last until spring training.
Then, when I see my beloved Rendon donning his new Angels jersey, acceptance will finally come, along with hope — hope that a miracle happens in the City of Angels that brings Rendon back home to Washington where he belongs.
Until then, I’m going to wear anger like it just walked down a catwalk at fashion week. I know Santangelo wants us all to be happy for Rendon and to subscribe to the whole “don’t be sad it’s over, be glad it happened” nonsense. Deep down, I’ll always love Rendon, but I’m going to join in with Trea Turner by pulling my “Anthony Rendon is my favorite player” t-shirt out of the drawer and kicking it to the corner of my bedroom.
What can I say? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
By the way, is anyone in the market for a 2015 Rendon jersey? Let me know.
Nicole Tieman is a Wisconsin native, unapologetic fan of the Milwaukee Brewers, and general lover of baseball. In her spare time, she’s a communications professional in Washington, D.C.
