This is going to end badly

Ben Godar

The Astros announced today that they will file an insurance claim to cover the $17 million they owe Jeff Bagwell. The team claims he is physically unable to play, and Bagwell can’t guarantee he is. But the former MVP wants the chance to attend Spring Training so he see if he can condition his surgically repaired shoulder to "throw the ball across the infield."

When you look at how most great players leave The Game, it makes the farewell to race horses with broken legs seem downright humane.

There is no dip of the cap and slow stroll into the clubhouse. When ballplayers reach the end, the fans who love them are forced to avert their eyes and force a smile, like when Grandpa’s telling a racist joke. Nobody goes out on top, even superstars. Especially superstars.

Remember when Ozzie Smith rode into the sunset, with a final back flip punctuating his Hall of Fame career? Nobody does, because he only hung up his spikes a full season after being benched for Royce Clayton. HOF newbie Bruce Sutter sat out most of 1986 and all of 1987 with injuries, only to come back and pitch 46 innings with a 4.76 ERA. In fact, if you look at the Hall of Fame roster and really remember the last time you saw them on the field, you’ll cringe every time.

Jeff Bagwell’s not a Hall of Famer, but Sammy Sosa might be. Two years ago he was still one of the faces of baseball, and the fans at Wrigley roared every time he sprinted into right field. Now he’s a bat corking jerk whose career may end simply because nobody wants him. It’s easy not to be sympathetic to a guy like that, but it’s never pretty to watch a great player hit rock bottom.

Then there's Mike Piazza, who reportedly thinks a crippled former catcher is still worth $7 million a year. Nobody else does. Piazza's become a punchline; it's easy to forget he's the greatest offensive catcher in history, hands-down. That .311 lifetime average is staggering.

You can’t blame the players – if I had that kind of talent, I’d squeeze it until there was nothing left. And we fans are willing accomplices. Every time a retired legend stops by the broadcast booth, the commentators quip "they still look like they could hit 30 home runs," and we’re apt to believe it. It’s more fun to think the talent is some innate personal trait than a fleeting, non-renewable commodity.

Jeff Bagwell told MLB Radio he doesn’t begrudge the Astros trying to collect the insurance, he just needs more time to find out if he can still play. Maybe the Astros owe him that time and maybe they don’t. But players always look for more time and they never find it.