Josh Hamilton’s story was told with a beginning, a middle and an end. It was told neat like that. He was the gifted young ballplayer who fell about as hard as a man can fall and still get up, and then he did get up. Hooray for Josh Hamilton. Hooray for the human spirit.
That was his story. It was worth telling. With every home run, every day spent sober, every moment he held his wife and four daughters, it was worth re-telling, because none of that was guaranteed after he fell. And fell. And fell.
Through a clear lens, it was impossible not to root for Josh Hamilton, who woke up every morning expecting to do the right thing by himself and his family, and then getting through most days.
But not all of them. The story wasn’t that neat. It wouldn’t ever be.
I don’t know if drugs and alcohol chased Hamilton or he chased them. The result is the same. By Thursday, Major League Baseball was believed to be considering what to do now with Hamilton, who, according to reports, had backslid in hisRead More »from Josh Hamilton situation a reminder of the frailty of man