It was a quiet night in downtown Cincinnati. The dinner rush had come and gone, and Jessica, a 26-year-old waitress working the late shift, was just grateful for a few calm minutes. Sheād just served a polite young man whoād come in alone, ordered a modest meal, and offered nothing more than a soft smile and a respectful āthank you.ā
What she didnāt know? She had just served Elly De La Cruz ā the heart and soul of the Cincinnati Reds.
There were no cameras, no Reds gear, no entourage. Just Elly, the same way he plays the game: fast, focused, and full of grace. But what happened after he left is what truly stunned her.

As Jessica cleared the table, she noticed the receipt tucked beneath the plate. At first, it was the tip ā generous enough to make her blink twice. But then she saw it: a folded napkin, carefully written on, in his own handwriting.
āEveryoneās watching someone. You reminded me tonight why I love this city. Keep showing up ā someone sees you.ā
Her hands trembled. The words hit like a grand slam in the ninth. She sat down at the edge of the booth and cried ā not because of the money, but because of the meaning.
Elly didnāt have to write that note. He couldāve walked out like any other superstar. But thatās not who he is. Heās more than a highlight reel. Heās a reminder of what it means to wear Cincinnati red ā humility, heart, and hope.
And Reds fans know: when Elly De La Cruz steps on the field, he plays for us. But itās off the field ā in quiet moments like this ā that he reminds us why we cheer in the first place.