If you are a public figure — for example, an All-Star professional baseball player — in the eyes of the media monster, anything you do or say is fair game.
Such is the case for Texas Rangers outfielder Josh Hamilton. The 2010 American League MVP and one of the most popular players in the game today is as well known for his battles with addiction as he is for his power at the plate.
He was the No. 1 overall pick in the 1999 draft before drug and alcohol problems derailed his career for nearly a decade. Since his return to baseball, Hamilton has led Texas to two consecutive World Series appearances and became a role model for recovering addicts everywhere.
On Jan. 30, Hamilton relapsed at a Dallas-area bar. The next morning, the story was grabbing headlines across the country.
Of course, leave it to the media monster, which prioritizes getting the sacred story above all else, to make the already tough task of conquering addictive demons exponentially more difficult.
Sure, Hamilton is a superstar in every sense of the term, but is news frenzy really necessary every time he relapses?
To any reporter who has half a heart, the answer is clear: no.
First, allow me to play the devil’s advocate. Some argue that because Hamilton’s addictions are so closely intertwined with his baseball career — and thus his contract with the Rangers set to expire after the 2012 season — then his relapses are just as newsworthy, if not more, than any game he wins with a swing of his bat. This I can’t disagree with.
Major League Baseball is a business, and the Rangers’ organization has every right to be fully aware of Hamilton’s mental and physical health before it plops down millions of dollars for an extension. Furthermore, I understand the lefty slugger must be held responsible for his own actions.
But Hamilton’s day-to-day struggles with addiction, however interesting they might be to the average fan, have no business being reported.
The incident was most likely far from Hamilton’s second relapse since returning to the game. The other public blunder came at a Tempe bar in 2009. I’m sure there are plenty more mistakes the public is unaware of, and that’s how it should be.
Every addict knows a relapse is an ugly, albeit necessary, part of recovery. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and demons cannot be extinguished in a single blast of inner strength. While I certainly have no idea what it’s like to be a high-profile professional athlete like Hamilton, I understand his struggle.
I, along with countless other Americans, have battled with the disease of addiction. I know firsthand that rehabilitating your mind and lifestyle is a tall order in itself.
I could not imagine having my every miscue placed under a microscope for the world to examine. I could not imagine having to answer to the press for every slip-up, when the ones whom you actually owe an explanation to are your family and teammates.
As much as the media tries to justify this sort of reporting as “relevant,” this is about far more than batting averages, fly balls and contract extensions. “This is not a baseball story … This is real,” said Rangers General Manager Jon Daniels on ESPNDallas.com.
Daniels speaks the truth. This is a man’s life we are talking about, not some game with four bases, a bat and a ball.
Covering Hamilton’s every fall off the wagon is not in the best interest of the player himself. It’s not in the best interest of baseball. It’s not in the best interest of the fans.
We already know the guy’s no angel. We already know that each morning Hamilton wakes up, the impulse to drink or get high weighs heavily in the back of his mind.
I’m not for tearing down our heroes, who, believe it or not, are just as human as we are. This is why the next time Hamilton missteps, something that’s hard not to do on the slippery slope of addiction, I won’t be among the pack of soulless journalists reporting about it.
Reach the columnist at kjnewma2@asu.edu
