Rangers 3, Sox 2
Mike Young popped out in foul territory for the first out of the third inning, which brings up Josh Hamilton, which gives me a chance to share this story.
Somewhere in this press box is a guy named Evan Grant, who writes for the Dallas Morning News. In January, he profiled Hamilton. Not that Hamilton's tale of resurrection from injury and drug abuse hasn't been documented, but this is a pretty good one.
The link and an excerpt.
Hamilton scored from second and Hank Blalock moved to third on a double to the left-field corner by Jason Botts. Lester's on 53 pitches and could be facing his first major jam of the night. Julian Tavarez is warming up.
By EVAN GRANT / The Dallas Morning News
egrant@dallasnews.com
Editors' note: The following appeared in the final Jan. 28, 2008 edition of The Dallas Morning News.
• • •
SMITHFIELD, N.C. – Just past 8 a.m. on a gray Eastern Carolina Friday, Josh Hamilton's silver GMC truck, grinding gravel into grit, rumbles into the alley directly across Market Street from the Ava Gardner Museum.
His ash-colored sweat pants are streaked with grease, the residue of eating a chicken biscuit while driving 40 miles from his home in Cary at the crack of dawn. As he enters a hollowed-out jewelry store turned batting cage, Hamilton yanks a Rangers royal blue fleece shirt over his head.
"I like this color," he says from under the shirt. "It really brings out the blue in my eyes."
Just then, his sturdy, heavily tattooed forearms emerge and his head breaks free. He is 6-4, 240 pounds and has a smile that would have made one of the sirens Gardner portrayed on the screen swoon.
Now, it's time to go to work, another full day of preparing for his future as the Rangers' center fielder.
He spends 45 minutes in the cage working with Johnny Narron, friend and mentor and new Rangers special assignment coach. Hamilton swings one-handed with an easy but powerful grace. He hits a handful of line drives off tees and soft-tosses and then another 25-30 in full-scale batting practice. It's a breeze compared to last winter, when he would hit 300-400 balls a day while trying to cram the 3 ½ seasons that he lost to drug addiction into two months.
The rest of the day includes 2 ½ hours with a merciless personal trainer. On alternate days, he visits a similarly sadistic pilates instructor.
When he finally gets home and takes off his size 16 shoes, the doorbell rings. A lab technician is waiting. Three times a week, Hamilton's past and future intersect when he urinates into a cup and waits for confirmation that tells the baseball world what he has known for 27 months: He is clean, sober and drug-free.
"I think he looks forward to the tests," Narron says. "He knows he's an addict. He knows he has to be accountable. He looks at those tests as a way to reassure people around him who had faith."
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