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Layne Murdoch - GETTY
An emotional Josh Hamilton appeared Friday to discuss why he had at least five alcoholic drinks Monday.
An emotional Josh Hamilton appeared Friday to discuss why he had at least five alcoholic drinks Monday.
When Ian Kinsler dropped Josh Hamilton off Monday night, he asked his Texas Rangers teammate and friend a question.
"You're not gonna go back out or anything, are you?"
"No," Hamilton assured him, "I'm in.
"I'm good."
Of course, no good at all came from Hamilton's night at Sherlock's Pub. He went back out after Kinsler left, setting off an unsettling chain of events that led to Hamilton's heartfelt, convincing address to members of the media Friday. He didn't take any questions, but, as expected, he said all of the right things. One of the most important was when he acknowledged that, as an addict, any time he drinks, whether he has 15 or only three or four, a point comes "when the switch flips" and anything's possible. And then everything he's done to reclaim his life is in jeopardy.
His career. His family.
His teammates.
Dallas' history
We probably should be used to this. The Dallas-Fort Worth market seems to have had more than its fair share of high-profile substance-abuse stories among professional athletes. There has been Roy Tarpley, Michael Irvin, Steve Howe and Mark Tuinei, the Cowboys' Pro Bowl tackle who died of a heroin overdose.
Organizations get caught up in it, too. Team officials stick their necks out, and they usually regret it. Teammates become collateral damage.
Who can forget the image of Troy Aikman supporting a teammate at Irvin's drug trial? Or poor old Clifford Ray, reduced to babysitting Tarpley? Or Brad Arnsberg, once a promising Rangers prospect, a figure in the implosion of Howe's career?
Kinsler is merely the latest to get caught in the backwash. According to Hamilton's account, Kinsler had no idea his teammate had been drinking. Hamilton, who grew up in Raleigh, called Kinsler, they met at a restaurant, then shifted to Sherlock's, where they talked for another half-hour. Finally, Kinsler said it was time for them to go home.
Let's be clear: If all of the above is true, Kinsler bears no responsibility for Hamilton's actions. It wasn't his job to make sure Hamilton didn't suffer a relapse. He wasn't supposed to tuck him in. He wasn't enabling him, either.
But teammates sometimes walk a pretty fine line when it comes to a friend's addiction.
Particularly when, as Hamilton put it, he can be "very deceptive" after a few pops.
Keeping control
Johnny Narron, Hamilton's former "accountability partner," couldn't keep Hamilton from sneaking out in Arizona three years ago. Ray couldn't stop Tarpley from testing positive for alcohol three times during 1995, voiding the remaining five years on a $25.8 million contract.
"This whole deal is (expletive)," Tarpley memorably said then, "especially me losing all that money."
Howe claimed the Rangers overreacted, too, when they released him during January 1988 after a drug-and-alcohol binge that started at an Arlington topless club that, ironically, claimed Billy Martin's career as well. Howe already had been suspended or released an astounding seven times because of drug and alcohol problems. Arnsberg should have known better than to go along for the ride. But a lot of people don't understand addiction now, much less then. As I write this, emails keep coming asking what's the big deal?
Howe's story was a case in point, and a harrowing lesson for Hamilton going forward.
A former Michigan standout, first-round pick, All-Star and Rookie of the Year, the man on the mound for the final out of the 1981 World Series, Howe had no ax to grind with the Rangers. They incurred a whopping $250,000 fine from Commissioner Pete Ueberroth just for signing him. Still, when Texas gave him the gate, he told reporters, "I've done a lot of things wrong, and this is the biggest reaction for the least."
A year later, in his book, "In Between the Lines: One Athlete's Struggle to Escape the Nightmare of Addiction," Howe amended his stance. He praised the Rangers' owner, Eddie Chiles, club president Mike Stone and Tom Grieve, then general manager, for their hard-line stance.
"They had the guts to 'just say no' to the commissioner," he wrote. "Later on, they had the courage to say no to Steve Howe. By doing so, they may have saved my life."
Few happing endings
For the most part, Dallas' big drug stories involving star athletes have not ended well. Irvin wasn't an addict. But Tarpley was. His NBA career over, he was forced to play in Siberia, of all places. He ended up in Houston, where, five years ago, he sued the Mavs and NBA in federal court, claiming they violated the Americans with Disabilities Act by refusing to reinstate him. The suit reportedly was settled.
Howe became a born-again Christian and, four years after the Rangers released him, resumed his big league career, pitching six seasons with the Yankees. He later started his own business.
On April 28, 2006, Howe rolled his pickup in Coachella, Calif., and was killed. Toxicology reports showed meth in his system. He was 48.