A nice big win for 23 year-old Jon Lester against the Indians tonight. In six innings, he allowed only five hits and two runs and struck out six. Not too shabby.
Last August, Lester had a 7-2 record was in the middle of a stellar rookie season, when he went to the doctor for back pain and, to the shock of everyone, was diagnosed with anaplastic large cell lymphoma. After being diagnosed, he underwent six intensive chemotherapy sessions. No one was sure when or if he'd ever pitch again, much less whether he'd ever be able to throw effectively at the major league level. Unbelievably, Lester showed up at spring training this year ready to pitch. The Sox brought him along slowly though, and he began his rehab playing Single A ball before moving up to Triple A earlier this season. Tonight was his first major league start, and I had the pleasure of watching it in my office on MLB.com. He looked as good as ever, getting out of jams, striking out people, and only allowing two runs.
From cancer to a major league win in less than a year. Pretty amazing.
Lester's story is certainly a refreshing change of pace from the recent rash of demoralizing sports tales involving Tim Donaghy, the skunk NBA referee who bet on games he officiated; Michael Vick, the soon-to-be former NFL star who is so fucking stupid that he thought it was okay to host barbaric dogfights at his house, and to allow his buddies to kill dogs in the most inhumane ways imaginable; and of course, our boy Barry Bonds, who is about to break one of baseball's most sacred records, but none of us can enjoy it because he cheated the game by abusing steroids. It's so bad that when he hits three more home runs and breaks Aaron's record of 755, I'm actually going to have to root for Alex Rodriguez to break Bonds' record.
Ooooh, I feel dirty. I think I need a shower.
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