Eddy, in a way I'm kind of relieved that you weren't with the Spurs long enough for me to become emotionally connected to your relatively small chances for success in San Antonio. Even considering the shortness of your stay, it was quite difficult for me to keep myself from buying some lumber and the assorted parts necessary to build the Eddy Curry Bandwagon with my own hands. I really wanted to paint it up and have it decorated all nice and pretty; with bows and streamers (not tinsel, that's kind of tacky) and climb to the top of it to wave at the crowd.
I looked forward to driving it down Commerce Street, with the band playing and the sun shining and the line forming (once I'd stopped, of course) for everyone to climb aboard. I can close my eyes and imagine the people pouring up the stairs leading from the Riverwalk, the crowds stretching from Presa, past Navarro and all the way to St Mary's. When it's quiet, I can hear the crowds shouting your name, celebrating another reclamation project that paid off. Chanting: Eddy the Trim. Eddy the Brave. Eddy the Savvy!
But it was not to be, and that makes me sad.
I know that you're just a guy trying to ply his trade in a world that has seemingly been set up to watch you suffer. You've had more true tragedy in your life than almost any other athlete to wear the silver and black, however briefly. I can't even imagine what it must have been like to go through half of the things you've lived through. You have survived, and there's something to be said for that. I respect your ability to continue, even as the unfortunate events have piled up around you like the rubble from a condemned building.
Please know that there are still those who are willing to guardedly root for you, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. I did my best to ignore what my brain was telling me and listen to my heart's convincing tale that you could make the team, earn some playing time and make a serious contribution. I hope that possibility is still out there for you. Somewhere in the NBA. Or the Euro leagues. Maybe China.
Here's to hoping that you were able to learn something from the time you spent under the tutelage of Coach Pop. Now that you have been let go from the classiest organization in the NBA, perhaps the concept of pounding the rock will stay with you, serve you, and guide you on the next step of your journey.
I hope you'll allow me the license to tweak a traditional Irish blessing for you, on this occasion.
May the lane rise up to meet you.
May a screen be always at your back.
May the lights shine warm upon your face;
The shots fall soft through the net and until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
Cheers, Mr. Curry.