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Rickey Henderson.

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I love when I get to share my fav baseball story...

Henderson is playing on the Mets with John Olerud, and asks him why he wears a batting helmet to play in the field...John tells him about the brain surgery he had in college or something like that. Henderson says..., "there was guy I played with in Seattle who did the same thing." Olerud says, "yeah, that was me...we were teammates in Toronto too."

I may have messed up the teams in the re-telling of the story, but the nuts of the story is classic.

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The quote I heard was "yeah, Rickey, that was me", but you're right, it's a fantastic story and classic Rickey. I mean, the man called the Red Sox club house two days after the '04 series ended, asked for tickets to tomorrow's game and when told there was no game, asked 'why not?'.

Thing is, despite his IQ barely cracking double digits, you've gotta respect the guy's love of the game. He's still plugging along because he loves to play. In a world where athelete's seem unhappy despite 8-figure contracts, I have to respect a guy who goes out and hustles at 40-something for one more day in the sun.

For me, Vince Carter is the most detestable pro on the planet. He was getting $14 million/year with the Raps and admitted to not playing to his fullest abilities in order to force a trade. How the NBA didn't punish him is beyond me.