John Smallwood: Admire Rangers' Hamilton's story for what it is - one of salvation

IT WOULD BE EASY to call the story of Texas Rangers outfielder Josh Hamilton a song of redemption.

This is "The Natural," a real-life story of a lost phenom coming from nowhere to rise to the top of the baseball world.

But unlike Hamilton, Roy Hobbs' wounds were not so egregiously self-inflicted.

Hobbs never made the conscious decision to throw away his future the way Hamilton did.

Hobbs was struck down by destiny. Hamilton created his own dark fate.

There is no doubt that Hamilton's going from a drug addict to becoming the favorite to win the American League Most Valuable Player award qualifies as deliverance.

But redemption?

With redemption, there is an implied notion that the burdens laid were somehow out of control of the individual. Nothing could be further from the truth concerning Hamilton.

Hamilton is not a guy dumped on by life. He was not some kid caught in a hopeless spiral that made success difficult to achieve.

In 1999, he was the No. 1 overall pick in the major league draft. The Tampa Bay Devil Rays gave the 18-year-old slugger a $3.96 million signing bonus and saw him as the future of their ballclub.

Within 3 years, Hamilton had slid down a hole of drug and alcohol abuse.

After he hurt his shoulder and elbow in 2002, Hamilton said he started using drugs to get away from the boredom of being sidelined.

By the time the Chicago Cubs selected him in the Rule 5 draft in 2006 and immediately traded him to Cincinnati, Hamilton had blown nearly $4 million buying drugs or trying to rehabilitate himself from them.

He made his major league debut as a 26-year-old rookie.

In a lot of ways, Hamilton, who was MVP of the American League Championship Series, is simply where he was always supposed to be.

Sometimes in sports we get so caught up in the fantasy that we overlook the reality of things.

Because of the circumstances of his fall, I'm not sure Hamilton should be overly praised for his comeback.

Still, as you watched Hamilton celebrate a trip to the World Series with his Texas Rangers teammates, and you listened to him humbly talk about being named MVP, you couldn't help but think this story is utterly amazing.

"Well, it's not the top of the mountain until I get to stand in front of my savior one day," Hamilton said. "The biggest thing is giving glory to God."

I'm not always sure why, but comments like Hamilton's make some fans uncomfortable. They view sports and religion in the same way as they view the separation of church and state.

I see it more as a statement of faith, not so much on a religious level, but just a belief in something.

We love it when athletes say they have faith in themselves or their teammates or their coaches or their workout routines. It's only when that faith enters the realm of spirituality that some of us get a bit skittish.

What's the difference?

If an athlete believes that faith in God, Jesus Christ, Allah, Buddha or any other deity helps them perform better, how is that any different from having faith in a coach or a game plan?

Hamilton's belief in Christ seems to be the thing that keeps him grounded in his recovery. He needs it, because he is well aware of the pitfalls lurking around every corner.

In January 2009, Hamilton had a well-publicized relapse when several photos of him doing "body shots" of alcohol off women in a Tempe, Ariz., bar became public.

Hamilton blamed no one but himself. He didn't try to cover things up. He pleaded guilty to being "human" and acknowledged he has to struggle to fight his inner demons every day.

Now his continued recovery has provided one of the most memorable images of the 2010 playoffs.

After the Rangers clinched their American League Division Series against the Tampa Bay Rays, Hamilton was told to put on some goggles and go into the clubhouse, where his teammates had already been celebrating.

Hamilton had stayed out because a bath of champagne would not be healthy to his recovery. When he finally entered the clubhouse, the Rangers doused him with bottles of ginger ale.

The ginger ale celebration was repeated on the pitcher's mound at Rangers Ballpark in Arlington when Texas clinched its World Series berth on Friday.

"It was the coolest thing for my teammates to understand why I can't be a part of the celebration and for them to adapt it for me to be a part of it says a lot about my teammates," Hamilton said.

Maybe it's not for us to try to define Hamilton's story. Perhaps we should just accept it for what it is, and let each person draw whatever kind of inspiration or message he or she wants from it.

I don't see this so much as redemption as I do salvation.

Both are good in the grand scheme of life. *

Send e-mail to smallwj@phillynews.com.

For recent columns, go to http://go.philly.com/smallwood.