One cannot simply leave behind a life of crime. Your body craves the adrenaline for years afterward. It begs for it. The desire for just one more job, one more hit, one more simple robbery will never really go away, because a normal life is just so boring when compared with the thrill of disobedience. Who will stop you? Let them try.
No one knows this better than the San Diego Padres, who after a long dormant winter without crimes have returned to their roguish ways and begun robbing again. On Wednesday night, they left some evidence of their misdeeds.
It was the top of the third against the Seattle Mariners, and Julio Rodriguez stood in the batter's box with one ball against him. The victim spotted a beautiful meatball of a pitch: an 89-mph cutter that didn't cut at all and instead sat prettily in the middle of the strike zone. He swung quick and smooth, and the ball soared way, way out toward the deepest part of center field.
But do not think for even one second that Jackson Merrill, whose heart is full of crime, would allow this to continue. No way. From the middle of center field, he began to run back, looking at the ball over his left shoulder. He didn't even seem to be sprinting, but instead jogged along. He glanced down for only a second when his feet hit the warning track, and then back up at the hurtling white sphere that he craves. Both feet planted on the ground, he threw himself upward, arm stretched out long overhead. His glove ricocheted down with the momentum of the ball as he grabbed it, ROBBED it, from behind the wall and snatched it back down into fair territory. He loves his life of crime. He did not even celebrate, for it is nothing to him.
Crimes are hot. Even Julio, whose home run has been unfairly stolen and ripped away, smiled a mischievous smile at Merrill. The Robbin' Padres are just like this. It's in their blood. They must rob, and now that the robberies have begun, they will not stop. And why would they?
For his crimes, Jackson Merrill was rewarded by the baseball gods. In the bottom of the ninth, down one run with two outs, Jackson Merrill came up to bat with runners on first and second. Robbing is not a sin to the baseball gods, but a virtue. So when Merrill swung, the ball went where no one could rob it: a beautiful double down the line. Two runs scored. He walked it off!
This is what robbing gets you: glory. Damn, it must feel great.
