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.
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