When Someone Offers You $125 Million To Not Touch Booze Or Drugs For 5 Years And You Can’t Do It, Then You Officially Have A Problem


by Tommy Gimler

Shit, for $125 million I’d give up plowing my wife for five years.

Sad news courtesy of the New York Daily News today, as they’re reporting that Angels outfielder Josh Hamilton has suffered a cocaine and alcohol relapse and could face a lengthy suspension from Major League Baseball. Hamilton apparently tattled on himself and met with league officials Wednesday afternoon.

Since signing a five-year, $125 million deal with the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim – or whatever the shit they’re calling themselves these days – Hamilton has been a below-average player at best on the field. Turds like Matt Dominguez and Jedd Gyorko have hit more home runs. Conor Gillaspie and Yunel Escobar have hit for a higher average. Hell, Jed Lowrie has driven in more runs, and he’s fucking pathetic.

But off the field, Hamilton seemed to be doing just fine. After all, there were no pictures surfacing like this one from one of his “relapses” in 2009:


And hey, nobody had tried selling a Josh Hamilton sex tape to a Los Angeles TV station like the dude in Dallas after another “relapse” in 2012.

But apparently that wasn’t the case. And based on a story told to us by a reliable source – and not like an “ESPN reliable source” kind of reliable – we’re beginning to wonder if that was ever the case.

In the summer of 2011. our source – who we’ll refer to as “Jimmy” from here on out – and a friend road-tripped it to SoCal to catch a few ballgames in San Diego and Anaheim. Hamilton was playing for Texas at the time, and the Rangers were in town for a three-game set. Jimmy and his pal wound up staying at the same hotel as the Rangers, and they decided to hit the hotel bar the night before the first game.

After throwing back several beers, Jimmy and his pal were suddenly shocked to see a familiar face sitting next to them at the bar: Josh Hamilton. The guys suffered a momentary bout of the stupids and asked the slugger if they could buy him a drink. Hamilton politely declined, and the guys quickly realized their mistake.

But Hamilton was so cool that he sat and shot the shit with the guys for a while, and he even talked about the “Hey Hamilton!” dipshit who died when he fell out of the stands trying to catch a ball a few weeks earlier. Jimmy and his pal were really digging it, but apparently so was Hamilton because he asked the guys to buy him a Long Island Iced Tea. Then another. And then another.

The bar eventually closed, but the guys told Hamilton they had a tub full of beers up in their room if he was interested.

He was.

The three of them drank brewskis and even arm-wrestled into the early morning hours. At one point, Hamilton suggested that the guys “order up some girls.” But Jimmy and his pal were from out of town and didn’t know who to call to make that happen, and truth be told, they were getting tired anyway and wanted to get some sleep before heading to the stadium for the game later that night.

They decided to ask Josh Hamilton to leave their room so they could get some shut-eye, but Hamilton was still looking to party. He ran out to the hallway and began banging on other Rangers players’ doors in hopes of getting some choice pussy out to the hotel. Jimmy and his pal eventually shut the door and called it a night, but hey, it was one hell of a night.

The guys stumbled down to the lobby around 10 or 11 a.m., both sporting a motherfucker of a hangover. To their surprise, the entire Rangers team was also in the lobby and getting ready to head to the ballpark. Well, with the exception of Josh Hamilton, of course.

It was at that exact moment that a lightbulb appeared above their heads: Josh Hamilton got wasted with us last night, and he’s not going to make it to the stadium with the rest of teammates. We need to load up on the Angels.

They would lose that bet badly. Hamilton eventually made it to Angels Stadium and went 3-for-5 with a double and a home run as the Rangers curb stomped the Angels by the score of 7-0.

It was a great story, but a sad one. I mean, despite being kicked out of baseball for three years and on now on the verge of becoming one of the game’s biggest stars, Hamilton was willing to piss all of that – along with the millions of dollars that come with it – away just to get shithoused with a couple of random dudes the morning before a game against a division rival.

And after signing that five-year deal with the Angels in December of 2012, Hamilton had at least 125 million reasons to stay away from situations like that.

Imagine that.

Somebody dangles $125 million of guaranteed money in front of you, and all you have to do is stay away from booze and drugs, but you can’t do it.

That, my friend, is when you know you have an addiction. This isn’t like former ESPN analyst Steve Phillips plowing a production assistant, getting caught, and then blaming it on a sex addiction just to save face. This isn’t like your buddy Brian telling you that he’s going to quit drinking beer for a week because he was such a shit show in the Dells last weekend. This isn’t like your wife telling her friends that you’re addicted to internet porn because she can hear you perusing through the lesbian section of PornHub every morning when you’re taking a shit.

No, this man truly is sick.

There have been times when Hamilton has spoken to the media about his demons and said that he was able to conquer them with the help of his family and his savior, but as stories like Jimmy’s begin to surface along with proof of all of those relapses over the years, you have to wonder if those demons really were ever conquered, or more importantly, if they ever will be…

Wait, there’s more: Vanderbilt’s Coach To Player: ‘I’ll Fucking Kill You’

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One Response to When Someone Offers You $125 Million To Not Touch Booze Or Drugs For 5 Years And You Can’t Do It, Then You Officially Have A Problem

  1. Matthew says:

    I wish no ill will on anyone. I hope JH can deal with his issues and at the very least live out the rest of his life without hurting anyone, especially those close to him…but I really don’t care. HOWEVER, I would like to party in the Dells with the Brian character in the story. Drunk waterslides and Ho-Chunk chicks…I’m in!!!

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