Maybe that’s why I was so stunned at my reaction to the man now.

After just one look into his eyes, the same eyes that used to stare down opposing batters without an ounce of fear, I could feel only one thing for him: sorry as hell. Because all I could see in those eyes now was fear.

Cue Paul McCartney and the Beatles: I’m not half the man I used to be.

“What are you drinking?” I asked, eyeing the three knuckles’ worth of what appeared to be whiskey in front of him.

“Johnnie Walker,” he answered. “Black.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Rumors of Dwayne Robinson’s drug use had begun by his third year of twenty-win seasons in the majors. Mind you, this was back when the worry wasn’t all about performance-enhancing drugs. Supposedly, he was doing cocaine and sometimes heroin. Ironically, when you shoot those two together it’s called a “speedball.”

But if the persistent rumors were true, the two-time Cy Young Award winner wasn’t letting it affect his performance on the field. And whatever erratic behavior he displayed else-where was explained away by his social anxiety disorder.

Then came the famous “Break-In.”

With the World Series between the Yankees and the Los Angeles Dodgers tied at three games apiece, Dwayne was scheduled to take the mound in the Bronx for the decisive game seven. He had already won two games in the series, allowing only a single run. In other words, he seemed unhittable and therefore unbeatable.

Only this time, he never showed up for the game.

He disappeared for something over seventy-two hours. Hell, it would’ve been longer had the super in his Manhattan luxury high-rise – a die-hard Yankees fan, no less – not used his master key to enter the star’s penthouse apartment. Inside he found Dwayne Robinson lying naked on the floor, barely conscious. According to insider stories the irate super actually kicked the star a couple of times.