During the peak of my awkward tomboy years, when I was thoroughly in denial of puberty, I got really into the 1993 playoff season. Although I was a temporary/bandwagon Phillies fan at the time, I didn’t just fall in love with Lenny Dykstra and John Kruk, but the Blue Jays’ Roberto Alomar as well.
Time has passed and the other day, I had a “what ever happened to…” moment. I hadn’t heard much about Roberto Alomar since his notorious spitting at an ump incident so I Googled him. Yeah. He has full blown AIDS. I had no idea. I mean, when Magic was diagnosed with HIV, everyone and their mom heard about it. Somehow Roberto Alomar didn’t get as much press. Or the news broke during one of my stints living in a box (actually a boot, Italy, where it was easy to fall out of the loop).
I was a tad saddened by the news. I’m guessing he was infected by a gross groupie when he’d had a few too many after a big win. But to top that and thoroughly put the nail in the coffin of my naive, 4th grader’s views of the ‘93 World Series squad, I stumbled on a horror story about the current Lenny Dykstra. While channel surfing, I stalled on Real Sports, which was running a story about the trainwreck that is Dykstra’s financial situation. Apparently, he embraced the world of finance after being ripped off by someone who mishandled a large sum of money meant to be invested for his retirement. Not long ago, he was flying high and now, he is deeper into debt then Michael Jackson supposedly was. It wasn’t these superficial facts that got me; it was watching a thoroughly disoriented and bloated Dykstra awkwardly answer the interview questions. He was slurring and stumbling over his words, he must have gained at least forty or fifty pounds and he was virtually unrecognizable. Dykstra supposedly owes a whole slew of people money and is facing at least a half dozen lawsuits. He pretty much summed it up saying “those people are all full of shit, I don’t owe them shit.” Hmmm, Nails is meant to be seen, not heard. Well, not seen either in his current form. Dude needs to hit the gym.
Sometimes, I prefer not to hear about the extracurricular lives of my current and former heroes. Back in the good old days before reality shows and tabloids ruled the world, it was easier to turn a blind eye to the personal antics of your favorite movie stars and athletes. I generally think of baseball as an escape and having to be reminded that these players are, in fact human and not, for example, immune to HIV, is a tad depressing.
