One of the reasons I love Josh Hamilton and would love to see the Giants make a serious run at him
this off-season. Character is what you do when nobody is looking and this guy has the goods.
from ESPN:
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/eticket/story?page=joshhamiltoneticket
How to win friends . . . and influence enemies
Let's end with a quick story:
After Game 2 of the 2010 World Series at San Francisco's AT&T Park, after the Giants had taken a two-game lead over the Rangers with a 9-0 win and long after the last pitch had been thrown and the field had been cleared of what seemed like a thousand Giants employees posing with the National League championship trophy, Josh Hamilton and his wife, Katie, took a walk. They walked from the visiting clubhouse down an empty tunnel, hung a left and headed toward the city, past a row of food-service carts and parked forklifts, toward a small parking lot near the Lefty O'Doul Bridge.
They were quiet. Hamilton was tired and disappointed. The game had been over for close to two hours, but it was still inside him. He'd gone 1-for-4, and his team was heading back to Texas facing what proved to be an insurmountable deficit. There were two or three Giants employees hanging around; they'd just been given the opportunity to have their photographs taken -- by themselves, with their spouses, with their children and their spouses -- with the trophy near home plate.
Out of the silence and the darkness, a voice called out.
"Mr. Hamilton!" it bellowed. "Mr. Hamilton!"
The voice was loud enough and insistent enough and unexpected enough that it startled the few people who were standing near the parking lot. They watched as the Hamiltons stopped and located the voice. They found the source: a young man, maybe 18 or 20, wearing a Giants cap, Giants jersey and orange-and-black face paint.
"Mr. Hamilton," he said, a little quieter. "Will you sign?"
Understand: There was nothing at stake here for Hamilton. Most big-time athletes have perfected the art of hearing but not seeing. They can walk through a room with their eyes focused just above the crowd, the thousand-yard stare of the rich and famous, and pretend they're all alone.
We don't ask for much, though. A smile, a handshake, a name scribbled on a ball or a cap. Give us a chance to walk away and tell someone you're a good guy. Some guys understand this.
Hamilton stopped and approached the man. He smiled, took the ball the guy offered. As he signed, he asked, "You're not one of those guys who was dog-cussing me all night, are you?" The guy said no, of course not, he's always admired Hamilton. And by the way, could he get a photograph?
Sure, Josh said.
Inevitably, something went wrong. The camera didn't work.
At this point, most athletes -- even the nicest ones -- would have begged off politely and told the guy he was tired and had a bus to catch. Most wives would have pulled the plug long ago.
Hamilton posed for another photo, shook the guy's hand and walked away.
"That told me all I needed to know about him," said a Giants employee who witnessed the scene. "This wasn't a kid; it was an 18- to 20-year-old. This wasn't a Rangers fan; he was decked out head to toe in Giants gear. And there was no media there. Nobody ever would have known if he'd walked right past him. I wouldn't have thought twice about it, but how many guys at that level do what he did?"
And more to the point: How many truly believe they have no choice?
'via Blog this'
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