Cocaine One Helluva Drug

(ED Note: Since The Carolinian's website apparently sucks more than Free Paris Hilton E-Petition, I've just decided to post some of the older articles on here. This one was originally published sometime before now. If you've tried to read any of these and have had trouble, you're not the only one.)
No, seriously, it is. If you don't believe Rick James, just ask Josh Hamilton. The former No. 1 overall pick for the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, Hamilton was one of the most can't-miss prospects of the last 15 years until he got a hold of the stuff. Or, to put it more accurately, the stuff got a hold of him.

Hamilton graduated from Athens Drive High School in Raleigh and in the 1999 Major League Baseball Amateur draft, was selected by Tampa as the first overall pick just ahead of future World Series MVP and Yankee-killer Josh Beckett. To say that this draft, headed by Hamilton, was loaded is a massive understatement, as it featured an N.L. rookie of the year (Jason Jennings), an All-Star second baseman and local star (Brian Roberts) and two currently emerging potential All-Stars in Alex Rios and Chris Duncan. Oh yeah, it also featured All-Star and K-machine Ben Sheets; not to mention eventual A.L. Cy Young winner and the most highly paid pitcher in baseball history, Barry Zito (we can debate the merits of that contract elsewhere). The point being though, is that we weren't talking about a down year for the draft - a lot of teams were looking for franchise cornerstones in 1999.

Especially Tampa Bay. The newly formed franchise decided to go with the literal and figurative All American; Hamilton was not only a fantastic baseball player, he was described as Boy Scout-ish both with his appearance, his attitude and his action, the kind of guy you would expect to see helping little old ladies across the street. Drafted primarily as a left-handed hitting outfielder, Hamilton was named USA Baseball's Amateur Player of the Year and Baseball America's High School Player of the Year after hitting .529 with 20 stolen bases, 35 RBI's and 13 homers… in only 25 games. Oh yeah, and he went 7-1 with a 91 strikeouts in 56 innings and a 2.50 ERA. I guess I forgot to mention that he pitched too, right? And had a 97 mph gas can attached to his left shoulder? But you get the point - the guy could do it all and had it all, even refusing, according to Page 2's Jeff Pearlman, to "date extensively or attend the senior prom because, 'I can't have anything bad happen to me now. There's too much on the line.'"

But, and pardon me for doing my best VH1 Storytellers impersonation, the lines were just too much for Hamilton. After inking a deal with the Rays that landed him a record $ 3.96 million signing bonus, the future All-Star arrived in Florida with his parents for Spring Training. An automobile collision before the season started sent his parents back to Raleigh for mom's medical attention and left Hamilton on the sidelines and with plenty of time to kill. He says that shortly thereafter, he took "my first drink - my first drink ever - was at a strip club down there, with the tattoo guys." You always hear about the quick hitting downward spiral, but Hamilton really lived it - going from drinking at strip clubs to using cocaine and getting empty eyed devil skulls tatted all over his body.

I don't have the desire or word count to fully detail everything that happened to Hamilton in the succeeding five years, but if you've ever known someone with a substance abuse problem - friend or family, dealt with these issues yourself, or even read substantial information on the problem, it's pretty obvious that crack and cocaine can do hellacious things to a body, mind and soul. Hamilton was suspended indefinitely from baseball, blew (literally) through all of his money, separated from his wife and estranged his family, went through roughly eight different rehabilitation programs and survived multiple suicide attempts. His body is covered in 26 tattoos running the gamut of topics and spirituality and his mind scarred with the turmoil of five years of literal hell.

But on October 6, 2005, Hamilton started into his first lengthy return to sobriety, and four days after he celebrated a year and a half of being clean, he cranked his first major league home run. Along the way, the Devil Rays left him unprotected for the Rule V draft, the Cubs snatched him away and dealt him to the Reds for cash… which I'm sure has some ironic connotation. Hamilton was reinstated by the MLB within eight months of being clean, having spent substantial time working out in Florida with Winning Inning and attending substance abuse meetings.

That first home run was also his first major league start and over the course of the first three weeks of the season, Hamilton is hovering right around .300 and tied for second in the National League in home runs with five. He also currently leads the Reds in taters and RBI's, and has forced manager Jerry Narron, through his strong all around play, into finding time for him in an otherwise crowded outfield, all while drawing the praise of his teammates for his play and, more importantly, his leadership.

Look, Hamilton's story, since he went on this two-week tear through the majors, has been covered waaaay more than just extensively; he's the ultimate feel-good story right now and with good reason. So I don't even pretend to provide the most personal or extensive account of this tale, and far from the first on the scene attitude - totally impossible with a weekly column in today's world.

But Hamilton has had me wondering for the last few weeks - is he a prime example of the newly forming version of the American success story? And by that I don't mean the ability of an athlete to rise about tough conditions to succeed, because that story is as old as the sports themselves. What I do mean to look at is the idea of any American overcoming addiction, doing a 180 and "coming out on top," or whatever cliché you want to insert there. See, the thing is, addictive behavior isn't ever cured. It's only remised and often not recognized because of the general attitude of anonymity that recovery encompasses.

Well, in everyday life that is; but how many celebrities and other semi-famous people have you seen enter rehab in the last 365 days? I don't have exact count by any means, but I know it's a ton. Just look at our most recent celeb-story-nation-crushes in Brit and ANS-two victims of their own self-delusion and grandeur. I don't necessarily have a distinct point to all of this, meaning that I can't possibly pretend to know that people in recovery will become the next wave of American "heroes." What I do know is that for some time now, we've seen two things happen: First, our heroes (especially in the athletic sense) have dissipated through media overexposure and what appears to be a genuine decline in leadership and focus; secondly the basic fabric that composes the American yarn of success has seemed to become a little old and worn out. Yes, we still revel in the glory of someone rising above their upbringing to succeed, but generally speaking, there isn't the type of aura surrounding these stories as in years past.

Meanwhile, the drug culture and consistent over-abuse of all kinds of chemical substances continues to grow exponentially in our culture. I'm not trying to shout from a soapbox here either, 'cause I'm as guilty as the next guy, but we, as a culture, are kind of running down the pipe blindly in the understanding of the long term effects of so many of these drugs. All I'm saying is that as the culture becomes more and more aware of the constantly growing problem (1 out of every 8 people suffer from a substance abuse issue of some kind) and more and more capable of assisting those who suffer, I think we'll see a new more moral form of hero and/or role model, particularly in the arena of athletics, where fame and the associated temptations come so freely.

But hey, maybe, on the other hand, we'll find out that crack, blow, dope and hooch aren't as debilitating as I think and we'll just keep on keeping on. Here's to Josh Hamilton not being the one to prove that theory right.