[Nick:] “You can’t repeat the past.”
[Gatsby:] “Can’t repeat the past?” he cried incredulously. “Why of course you can!”He looked around him wildly, as if the past were lurking here in the shadow of his house, just out of reach of his hand.
“I’m going to fix everything just the way it was before,” he said, nodding determinedly.
With today's release of the newest film version of F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby and with baseball always on my mind, I could not help but compare the two.
Five years before, Jay Gatsby last held the woman of his dreams. What a great love it was. In fact, it was enough to have him foolishly hold on to the assertion that one day his life finally would be able to replicate what he had. Holding on to that love while surrounding himself with a mansion, luxury, and parties that were supposed to make it happen left Gatsby empty.
Five years before, Ruben Amaro Jr. tasted the ultimate love for any baseball player: a World Series championship. And indeed, what a great love it was. So much so, Amaro foolishly holds on to the assertion that one day that love will come around again, surrounding himself with fancy new aces, former All-Stars, and pushing forward with a packed house.
At some point, it's time to move on. The World Series championship flag hangs in center field, but each year since we have seen the Phillies fall further and further away. In 2009 it was a World Series loss. 2010 in the NLCS. 2011 in the Division Series, and by 2012, nothing. Amaro stares at the banner with great, stubborn hope that his team can repeat the past.
We have seen the Phillies greats Ryan Howard, Chase Utley, and Jimmy Rollins slip further and further away from their great glory seen during their MVP seasons and World Series championship. They are still close enough that we dream, the fools that we are.
Gatsby stared at the green light at Daisy's house across the water. It was Gatsby's one true hope. He held onto it tightly until the moment he died.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning ——
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
The Phillies are paddling upstream. When will stop and build a new life and a new love?
Note: This may have been the first time I used my English Literature degree in many years.
