It was just yesterday he was the future of the Royals
I remember exactly where I was when the Kansas City Royals traded Wil Myers. It was December of 2012, and I was in the midst of studying for my fall semester finals in my senior year of college. I remember having a conversation about the Myers trade with the only other Royals fanatic in my friend group. Neither of us liked it; Myers was the best prospect in baseball, the future of the Royals, and to see him traded along with Jake Odorizzi for a good-but-not-great starting pitcher with only two years of team control seemed silly. That the Royals were also getting some guy named Wade Davis in return was no consolation.
It was just a few years ago. Except, it wasn’t—it was a dozen years ago. I’ve graduated, gotten married, changed careers, bought and moved into a house, and sold said house to move into a second house. My friend got his PhD in literature and moved to Texas. And in what seemed to be just a short few years, Myers’ entire career happened right in front of our eyes.
Myers retired just before Christmas, calling it quits after 11 seasons in the big leagues. One year after winning the American League Rookie of the Year award in 2013, Myers was then traded to the San Diego Padres, where he played the lion’s share of his career. In a vacuum, Myers was an effective big leaguer who became an All-Star and consistently hit at an above league average clip. But persistent injuries limited Myers’ playing time; Myers averaged 110 games played a year over his career, and he was limited to 90 or fewer games played seven times.
From the Royals’ standpoint, the Myers trade—or, should we say, the Wade Davis trade—was a booming success. Kansas City acquired the best reliever in baseball over the next four years and won the AL pennant with James Shields, the other big piece in the trade. After Shields left, they won the World Series. It’s hard to argue with that.
But Myers’ career and the trade ramifications aside, I was struck by news of the announcement. The baseball reasoning made sense, as Myers didn’t play in the big leagues in 2024 at all and was bad in 2023. No, for whatever reason, I was struck by the metaphorical impact of the trade and the passing of time.
As kids, we think our sports heroes will be there forever. At the time, it seems like it; a dozen years is an eternity to a child, and it even represents three-quarters of the lifetime of a college freshman. As we age, we realize that’s just not true. A dozen years is a long time, yes, but it’s also just a small portion of an average human’s time on this earth.
For me specifically, the retirement of players like Myers hits hard. Myers was born barely three months before I was, and his playing career is done. Every year, fewer and fewer late 80s/early 90s-born players are around in baseball. Before long, I’ll be older than just about every player in the league.
Father time is undefeated, they say, about baseball players. It’s true for all of us, too. A career like Myers’ is one to celebrate. And it is a reminder to enjoy the moments we have with the game and the players we love.