Too Good of a Story

Bryan Curtis on Josh Hamilton:

A week later, on a bright day in Oakland, Hamilton dropped a can of corn.
Rangers fans and writers pulled out their knives. Hamilton, it was said, was high-maintenance. Of course, he'd always been high-maintenance — a celebrated part of The Story was that Hamilton had an "accountability partner," Johnny Narron, who stayed one hotel room over; that he had to be sprayed with ginger ale while his teammates were sprayed with champagne. Hamilton, it was said, created clubhouse "drama." Well, yeah. This is the guy who said he saw Satan in the clouds. This is the guy who came to Arlington with the most pharmacologically adventurous past this side of Hollywood Henderson. That we thought his drama ended with Act 3 — at the conclusion of the book or DVD or testimonial — showed we were as beguiled by The Story as Hamilton was.
It's not defending Josh Hamilton to say that he became despised this year for many of the things that, in the confines of a redemption narrative, once made him beloved. The Story swallowed the man. Hamilton seems like a reasonably friendly, occasionally defensive guy who is teetering on the edge of sobriety, who is prone to inconvenient bouts of detachment, and who gets hurt a lot. When he goes to his next team, I hope a new story will start there. But I have a sinking feeling that every time he loses a fly ball, Hamilton will again be a prisoner of redemption, trapped in a tale too flawless for any man.

I think he's right that Hamilton has become a prisoner of the story.  His talent is too immense, and his addictions are too strong.  He's some kind of mythological beast on the ball field.  Hopefully, the story becomes secondary with a new start somewhere else.