Josh Hamilton would like you to know everything.
About the night he woke up in a trailer not knowing where he was, who he was or where he could go. About his squandered signing bonus, his resurrected marriage, his fall and subsequent rise from grace.
He would like you to know about the desperate knock he made on his grandmother’s door five years ago, a knock that gave way to a promise, which slowly led to redemption. The dreams. The demons. The attempts he made to take his life. Yes, he wants you to hear those stories, too.
He wants you to see each of his 26 tattoos, which, once a piercing reality of his downward spiral, now serve as a permanent reminder of how far he has climbed.
He also believes you should understand truly how small a part of his life baseball is. And appreciate how the lyrics in the TobyMac song he has played when he steps to the plate — “It’s never too late to get back up again. You may be knocked down, but not out forever” — weren’t selected by accident.
But if you only remember one thing about Joshua Holt Hamilton, he prefers it to be this:
This journey that he’s on — still on, as he will emphasize — there’s not a thing he would have changed along the way.
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