A Letter To Derek Jeter

Dear Mr. Jeter,

This letter is written to you from my heart; from a Red Sox fan to a low-life Yankee. A week ago you said you were going to retire from baseball at the end of the 2014 season. The legend that my generation grew up with will no longer be playing in MLB. And yes, as a Red Sox fan, I am fully willing to admit that you are a legend. If anyone can’t admit that, they are fooling themselves.

You have been playing baseball in the Major Leagues for almost as long as I have been alive. I’ve heard about you ever since I learned how to understand words. I’ve watched you play ever since I developed an understanding for the sport of baseball. You were the first baseball player I ever learned about. Before I knew that Sox was spelled with an ‘x’, I knew who Derek Jeter was. That is how important you are to the sport of baseball.

On the same token, ever since I learned what a pattern was I thought pinstripes were hideous. Ever since I learned what a Yankee was I knew they were some sort of Commies hell-bent on ruining the world. Ever since I learned who you were, I knew you were a bad, bad man (no matter what my aunt or all those People Magazine covers said about you). As long as I have known who you were I have never had any positive feelings for you.

So I should be happy that you’re retiring. One less Yankee legend for us Sox fans to worry about. But for some reason, I’m not happy about it. I’m oddly sentimental. Part of me gets your choice. I wouldn’t want to play another season with A-Rod either. He is a taint on America’s beloved pastime.

But if you don’t play next year, all the fun goes out the window. There is no one on the Yankees that I care about hating but you. I care about hating you, because it’s fun. I care about hating you because you’re a really good player and a formidable opponent for us. I don’t care about hating Ellsbury because I’m too hurt by him leaving and really all he ever did was steal bases (yes, I’m salty). I don’t care about hating Youkilis because I still love him and I still wear my Youk Red Sox shirt (sue me). And I don’t care about hating ARod, because he isn’t someone you have to care about hating. He is just someone you hate and don’t have to think about or put effort into it (plus I highly doubt he’ll actually be allowed to play when and if he comes back in 2015).

I have to actively hate you and I love that. If you leave, WHO WILL BE LEFT TO HATE DEREK? CC? Beltran? That’s a joke. I couldn’t care less about those guys. You’re the one I love to hate and if you leave baseball, you’ll break my heart. When I told my best friend why I was writing this letter she said “yes Jordan, I’m sure your hatred of him is what he cares about”. In all of her pointed sarcasm, she has a point. You don’t care that I hate you. You don’t care that I won’t care about hating any particular Yankee once you leave. It’s not going to change your mind and make you stay in baseball.

As you already said, there are “other things” you want to do. I’m not gonna stop you from expanding your dating diamond, Jeter. Every team needs backups. I get that. You do you. I guess all I really want to say to you now is that as much as I hate you, the game won’t be the same without you. This will be a season for the books and I can’t wait to enjoy it. And I definitely can’t wait for your last regular season game at Fenway. Maybe I’ll even buy tickets just so I can refuse to give you a standing ovation.

Nostalgic For Right Now

Thanks to the internet and other technological advances, we live in a world where everyone is connected to the past and hyper-connected to the present. This makes traveling back to that embarrassing 7th grade dance or revisiting all your past relationships almost effortless. This makes it just as effortless to see what people are doing quite literally, right now. However, oddly enough this also allows us to have nostalgia for events that are still happening in our lives, for example, that party you’re having the time of your life at, or, on a broader scale, the college experience.

The idea of “immediate nostalgia” is something that one of my friends explained to me a year or so ago. It is something that I somehow immediately understood, but still struggled to grasp. As she was telling me about it and her experience with it, I knew I had felt that way many times, but I just couldn’t figure out how it was possible. It seems so obvious, and yet so inexplicable at the same time. How can I have a longing for something that I’m still doing, still a part of? Why would I spend my time wishing I could do something when I am already supposed to be doing that exact thing? Why would I waste my time hoping that the experience never ends when I could just enjoy it in the moment? It is something I still can’t explain to myself, and even though I wish I could escape it, I can’t.

Having “immediate nostlagia”, though troublesome, can make really small, mediocre events seem like these great, meaningful milestones. I look back on my freshman year of college the exact same way I look back on my early childhood. Even if it was only 2 years ago, it still stands out as an important time in my life.

I think this can be attributed to the fact that we change so much, so fast in college. As trite and cliche as it is, I am a completely different person than I was 3 years ago. I also think it is attributed to our generation’s need to never grow up. For whatever reason, we want to be coddled and protected, never having to face real-world responsibilities, just having fun with our friends for the rest of our lives. Going out and getting a job after graduation seems like the scariest thing in the world, and it isn’t made any less scary when you see your friends slowly graduate, get jobs, face more responsibility, and spend less time with you at your favorite downtown bar.

However, I also think there’s another reason for this phenomenon. As it becomes more and more prevalent in my life, I have spent a lot of time trying to figure it out. The other day, it finally came to me in the form of a single word: comfort.

**

I will always remember the weekly (almost nightly if we’re being honest) sleepovers in my best friends’ dorm room freshman year. I practically lived there. I always had a changed of clothes and shower supplies on my own shelf in their closet, I would go down to the dining hall in their pajamas to get waffles and omelets with them in the morning, and would stay in, order pizza and watch standup comedy and Beyoncé music videos with them until 2 am. There is no doubt I overstayed my welcome, but it always felt so much more like home than my mostly empty, off-campus apartment. It was there that I found comfort in my first semester truly away from home, so that is where I stayed.

I will always remember the nights when my friends and I laughed for hours about nothing and communicated through facial expressions as everyone else looked at us in uncomfortable confusion because we hadn’t actually said any words to each other the entire night. It’s endlessly comforting to have people just get you and accept you.

I will always remember the moments when my best friend and I switched back and forth between ourselves and our “alter egos”. It can be really comforting to not have to be yourself all the time.

I will always remember the semester I joined the organization I now hold dear to my heart, and slowly getting to know all of the other new members and soon learning how serious every active was when they told us we would become a family. They say you are never more comfortable than when you are with your family.

I will always remember pulling all-nighters in Leavey and looking out over McCarthy at sunrise and not being able to control my smile. Sometimes I forget that USC is and always has been my dream school, and it is the best feeling in the world to be reminded of that, but also to realize that it is my home now, and that is perhaps the most comforting thing of all.

I will always remember standing on the streets of DTLA at 2am after closing time, waiting for a taxi with my friends and hoping that one guy won’t come up and sing a song about my name for the second night in a row. But as much as I try and fight it, it is oddly comforting to know that those streets stay the same night after night.

**

I  don’t practically live in Parkside Apartments anymore, but it will still always be my freshman year home and I will always miss Parkside omelets (which are obviously bigger and better than EVK’s). I try to make sure I actually talk to my friends when we go out now, so people can understand us, but on occasion the knowing side glance happens. My friend and I definitely still break out our alter egos anytime, anywhere, with absolutely no shame. I still love my organization and the family that comes with it, and like every family, I love some more than others. I’m not afraid to play favorites. I still pull all-nighters in Leavey. And let’s be honest with ourselves here, I’m not going to stop staying at bars until close anytime soon.

For me, it all boils down to comfort, and I am more comfortable now than I ever have been. And now that I realize why I get immediate nostalgia so often, I’m starting to think it might not be such a bad thing.