Sometimes pictures tell the story.  Pictures from the Boston Globe.

Jim Rice with his placque.

Jim and Rickey Henderson.

From his speech

You always feel that after every great once-in-a-lifetime moment, there could not be anything else to top it. You find your life-long partner, that one true love. You have your first child and you spend hours wondering at the perfection of tiny little fingers and toes. You rejoice and cry through pre-elementary, middle and high school and, if you’re lucky, college graduation. You marvel at how sanity endures. Right when you thought it couldn’t get any better, you have grandchildren and a new astonishing love blossoms.

And then after 15 years, you get a phone call that you thought you’d never get. Your aspiration’s realized. Your tears overflow. Because you know now that the highest honor of your career means so much more than you ever thought it would mean before. Because what it feels like most is being welcomed at home plate and after hitting a walk off home run. You find yourself repeating the same phrases over and over:

“We made it, we made it. We made it.”

Just think about it.  Jim Rice spent his entire career with the Sox.  Is there anyone playing right now you will be able to say that about 10 or 15 years from now?  Jon Lester?  Dustin Pedroia?  Hard to say and probably not. 

I look forward to the retirement of his number 14 at Fenway and to his return to the pregame show.

And by the way the John Smoltz experiment needs to end now.  It was a good try – didn’t work.