Malo Sit down, kids. I have a story to tell. There once was a big baseball star in a funky little media market who turned a few successful years in his twenties into an industry-shaking seven year, $126 million contract. Things went south, and the star became a former star. He settled into a performance that, at best, showed flashes of his former wonderfulness, and at worst, became the kind of situation that makes pollyanna optimists reach for excuses like, "Well, at least he's out there every day; there's something to be said for showing up to work in the morning," as if a lunch box and a pair of cleats were something to stand up for and applaud.
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