Even the aptly named Bob Hamelin, whose dumpy bottoms are forever burned into my memory, participated in the “best shape of his career” gimmick:
My visceral response to this, with a player of Hamelin’s — ahem — stature, what’s the point? Hamelin’s fat and he will probably always be fat. Just let him play the game fat. Then I think of how he just couldn’t stay healthy, had eye problems, and then suddenly quit baseball altogether in the middle of a game with the Toledo Mud Hens . . .
Baseball does that to me. Here, I thought I was going to make a big joke, title this stupid, petty post “Bob Hamelin in Best Shape of His Career: Round”. But then I look into it, and I see the arch of a human life, and I feel ashamed.
Hamelin has returned to the business of baseball as a scout. He even went to “scout school” to do it. He currently is with the Blue Jays organization. I am imagining, now, that it took some courage to come back to the game that he loved, that handed him success, then yanked it away. Hamelin is far from unique in this experience, I am sure. But each time I come across a story like his — amidst the stats, the snark, the hotness of players’ wives, the joyously dorky infographic — I am humbled again.
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