A career is more complex than the stat line on the back of your baseball card.
I never was an All-Star, but I was on a few ballots. In both 1998 and 1999, when I was among the leaders in all of baseball in hits just before the break, my manager with the Phillies, Terry Francona, made a valiant effort to lobby the National League All-Star manager on my behalf. To no avail.
When I heard that the Baltimore Orioles outfielder Adam Jones was showered with racial epithets by fans at Fenway Park on Monday, it was easy for me to roll my eyes and say, “Of course — Boston.”
There are many aspects of baseball that set it apart from other sports. I often cite these differences as related to its pace, perspective, nuance and calculus. Yet baseball is also a game of faith, an understanding my playing days only reinforced. Inside its daily ecosystem, your beliefs are tested like in no other game. In part because it comes at you every day.