
Cliff Lee yawned and chewed gum while his glove, a basket hanging near his chest, snagged the Johnny Damon popup. It was Game 1 of the 2009 World Series at Yankee Stadium, and Lee was in the 6th inning of a masterpiece sublime enough to include that iconic moment. In the outfield and dugout, his teammates laughed and marveled at Lee's nonchalance.
That catch represented the peak of an otherworldly postseason for the lefty, and defined Lee for the Philadelphia public as a Phillie forever. It had the same effect on the pitcher, whose hurt was raw when the Phils traded him to Seattle in December to make room in the payroll for Roy Halladay. 12 months later, clearly still pulled by the memory of a heightened experience, Lee did what professional athletes almost never do: He prioritized desire over dollars.
That catch represented the peak of an otherworldly postseason for the lefty, and defined Lee for the Philadelphia public as a Phillie forever. It had the same effect on the pitcher, whose hurt was raw when the Phils traded him to Seattle in December to make room in the payroll for Roy Halladay. 12 months later, clearly still pulled by the memory of a heightened experience, Lee did what professional athletes almost never do: He prioritized desire over dollars.