ANAHEIM, Calif. – Josh Hamilton is too good a guy, in a friendly, great-smile, hey-how-ya-doin', once-or-twice-a-week way. He wields that swing gifted by God or Ted Williams or somebody. The story — how he got here, and how it speaks to us — endures, because the stuff that chases him chases everyone in one way or another.
So, there's a reason he's been terrible. For a year. But there are signs he won't be terrible anymore, right? There's a mechanical thing to be sorted out, bad luck to turn, a hitting coach to show up and tuck his elbow or flatten his bat or raise his hands. Something.
This is — was, maybe still is, it's blurry now — one of the finest athletes many had ever seen on a baseball field. The ball flies — well, flew — from his bat, from his hand. The way he runs — ran. The way a ball into the outfield finds — found — his glove. The way he plays — played — the game, rather than it playing him, which is how most people find it. It is — was — so special.
So, what's up with Josh
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