He hails from South Carolina and he hits fastballs into the stratosphere for the Texas Rangers.  But in less than one hour, Josh Hamilton, Baseball's prodigal son, accomplished something that Home Run Derby no-show/coward Alex Rodriquez can and never will do - he won over the hearts of both New York City and TV America... unanimously.

In the great Ruthian tradition, this newly annointed Sultan of Swat put on the Show of Shows in the House that Ruth built, at 'The Stadium' where Gehrig and Dimaggio clouted their share, inside The Big Ballpark in the Bronx where Mantle's prodigious blasts thrilled millions, and now in the refurbished version where Reggie and his three mighty swings renovated a once proud dynasty.   Hamilton's continuous, consecutive bombardment of batting practice baseballs into the right field upper deck and the far reaches of the right centerfield bleachers put the incredulous grin of awe (better even than a Fourth of July Fireworks Finale) on 55,000 excited, lucky to be alive, ticket paying spectators. 

Was A-Rod watching? 

Or was he primping himself in front of the mirror readying for his late night proclivities? 

And then there was Josh Hamilton's sidekick, the 71 year old Babe Ruth League batting practice pitcher complete with the southern drawl and right out of central casting.  Didn't we see this guy on the big screen at the beginning of Roy Hobbs' career?  'Together, the mentor-student tandem seemed to be fresh off the set of a remake of the Bernard Malamud classic and living proof that life immitates art or maybe it has always been the other way around.

ESPN's conglommerate of commentators regurgitated the rags to riches - to sleeping under the bridge - to recovery/redemption story line ad nauseum.  But booze and street drugs will do all that to you and more and also screw up your family too.  It took Josh Hamilton 8 trips to the rehabs, the miracle of divine intervention, and the total surrender to a power greater than himself to release him, a day at a time, from the ills of egocentricity and chemical bondage.  Put simply, to save his life.  That's the way it works. 

A-Rod?  Still afflicted with PMS, addicted to the lust for Power, Money, and Sex. And throw in Image or Fake Image too which is the real reason last season's MLB Home Run King refused to participate in the longball exhibition hosted by his 27 million dollar per year providing employer.  How happy is 'Big' Hank Steinbrenner now? 

About as happy as A-Fraud  is acting 'cool' at his posh, trendy Manhattan-ite pre-All-Star Game party, playing the casual, laid back host, offering up in his mechanical-robotical style, the obligatory-PC accolades for Hamilton, all the while doing his own regurgitating  because he knows down deep that this night in the Big Apple belonged in a way he will never know, to the big kid from Texas, A-Real Deal.  

p.s.  In front of virtually no one, Justin Morneau accepted the winner's trophy.