Alex Rodriguez can't do a single thing right. He appears to be physically incapable of doing anything without making it exponentially worse. If there is such a thing as the Midas touch, A-Rod is there to restore balance to the universe. Wednesday afternoon, Alex Rodriguez had another doctor—an orthopedist from Hackensack named Dr.Michael Gross— review an MRI and announce on Mike Francesa's radio show that he saw no injury in Rodriguez's quad, an opinion at odds with the Yankees.
In the few hours following the appearance, we learned that A-Rod's enlisting of Dr. Gross may have violated the CBA and that MLB was widening its Biogenesis investigation to include Dr. Gross's role in a wellness center in New Jersey. Alex Rodriguez is Wile E. Coyote with a rocket strapped to his back, heading not for the bottom of a canyon but the dynamite section of the ACME warehouse.
Regardless of his motives or whatever animosity he engendered, it's hard to watch what is now happening to him, what he is doing to himself, and not feel something close to pity for the guy. Dr. Gross was supposed to present proof that A-Rod was ready to play and the Yankees were trying to keep him off the field to save some cash. Instead, his lot has gotten improbably worse.
Could an athlete have been in a worse (non-murder division) situation than A-Rod found himself when he woke up this morning? He wants nothing more than to be adored and admired for his talent and he is The Worst Person Who Ever Lived as far as most people in and around baseball are concerned. The sport he loves is trying to kick him out for the rest of his life.
So...probably not. Yet things are now not only worse than they were when he woke up, but it's entirely his fault. And he was trying to help. He's always trying to help; he tries so hard. It would be hilariously endearing slapstick at this point if it weren't so sad.
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