http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/columns/story?columnist=olney_buster&id=1938470(snip)
You tried to come back in September, and it went badly. You looked brutal at the plate. You couldn't hit. The Yankees are paying you $17 million a year, but you were so bad that they didn't even put you on the postseason roster. You were supposed to be the guy who led the Bombers over the Red Sox and instead you spent all of October quietly clapping in the dugout.
But it'll be worse in spring 2005. You'll be walking to the dugout for your first workout and doubts will be thick in your mind about whether you can hit. And that's when the fans will see you for the first time. And they'll fill your ears with boos.
These are Yankees fans, and they are booing.
Every time you pass by, they yell things at you. Nasty stuff. They are yelling that you are a fraud, a disgrace. Some of them are profane. And then it gets worse. This is what your work environment will be for the rest of your career. You try to concentrate on batting practice, on getting back your swing, and every time you step into the cage or step out, somebody is yelling at you.
You struggle in spring training; Torre picks somebody else to play first base, and somebody else is the DH. You are Jason Giambi, you were the AL MVP in 2000, and you are a bench player.
Your days are filled with lawyers, because your standing is being negotiated, and at night, you go to work and there is no escape. Fans wait outside parks to yell at you, and when you play on the road, they chant "STEEEERRRRRR-OOOOOIIDS" at you, on those rare days when you actually get into the lineup. And at Yankee Stadium, the fans boo you constantly.
You are a sensitive person, anyway, and you are treated like a criminal -- a criminal who gets marched out past the masses every day. You are Jason Giambi, and this could be your life for the next four years. You are making millions of dollars and paying an emotional toll for every nickel.
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