Scarlet Fever

A teenage girl's perspective on the Red Sox and everything else.

Saturday, September 02, 2006


I'm trying to think of the last time something this awful happened to a player. Matsui's flapping wrist, Kapler being carted away on the trainer's cart, Tony C's eye come to mind, but even they were not on the same scale as Lester's diagnosis. My parents, both doctors, explained lymphoma to me. It made me sick to realize that Lester has to deal with that. I'm disgusted that a 22-year-old phenomenon-in-the-making had such devastating luck. Cancer. The word's repeating over and over in my mind. Cancer. Cancer. Somebody make it stop.
Broken wrists, torn Achilles and even broken faces heal. Cancer kills. Maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise. Had Lester not gone to the hospital for that, who knows how long Lester would have waited until the cancer was discovered?
This team is cursed. The win yesterday was totally overshadowed by Lester's diagnosis, and then Papelbon's shoulder strain. Even the young guys aren't dismissed by the injury train. There's no other explanation for this team's downfall. The curse of... Damon? Who knows? A team with so much potential, and a young pitcher with so much potential... destroyed by injury.
Lester has to go through freaking chemotherapy now. Both my grandmothers had breast cancer. Chemo is terrible. Absolutely terrible. It kills cancer but in the process it kills everything else too. It racks the body. Lester could be left so weak he can never pick up a baseball again. The chemo could ruin him. I think I might be sick. Whatever gods are toying with our Sox have gone too far. They're messing with our guys' lives now. I just wish there was something I could do.


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