Milton Bradley left the A’s years ago, but now it appears he is leaving baseball altogether. Or, rather, baseball is leaving him.
The gifted subject of Billy Beane’s last truly nervy personnel gamble as Oakland general manager, Bradley has burned his last helping hand.
And we all know why. Bradley, 33, is a five-tool tease lacking even the slightest ability to sustain the level of composure required to retain a professional position — in baseball or elsewhere.
Milton is ruled by his compulsions. They define him. Now that Seattle, which was paying the outfielder $12 million this season, has designated Bradley for assignment, it appears they have consumed his career.
Bradley’s downfall provides the latest illustration of one of the more maddeningly complex aspects of being a sports fan. How can an athlete blessed with such superior talent wreck his career?
The short answer: His demons are too powerful to vanquish without help.
It happens in entertainment, from Charlie Sheen to Lindsay Lohan to Whitney Houston and many more. We see it in sports, from Todd Marinovich to Isaiah Rider to John Daly — and many more.
We also see it, if we care to look, within ourselves. Whether it’s anger or gambling or alcohol or drugs or sex or guns or food or money, most of us are burdened with one or more compulsions that stalk us daily and nightly. More often than not, thankfully, we treat them as distractions to be managed.
Sometimes, though, these compulsions are so extreme they become dangerous, perhaps even deadly. If you’re lucky, they’re merely costly.
Bradley once upon a time considered himself among the lucky.
He once told me as much. I was preparing a magazine profile about Bradley, and he was receptive. Aware of his reputation for flammability, I found him expansive and expressive — and engaging — while sitting in a quiet A’s clubhouse one afternoon before a night game in the spring of 2006. Addressing his habit of leaving smoldering ruins in his wake, Milton conceded regrets but insisted that, for the most part, he’s a good guy who happens to be passionate about things that are important to him.
Baseball, he said, was very important. It allowed him to earn millions doing something he loved — and give his infant son the kind of affluent childhood he never had.
Bradley said he was grateful to have another opportunity to show what kind of ballplayer and person he is. He was acquired by Oakland after too many tantrums with the Los Angeles Dodgers, where he landed after too many tantrums in Cleveland, where he was traded after too many tantrums within the Montreal organization that drafted him out of Long Beach Poly High in 1996.
Recognizing Bradley was the embodiment of his preferred offensive philosophy — a selective hitter with pop in his bat — Beane looked past Milton’s tarnished reputation. Indeed, the G.M. was confident enough to trade perhaps the most promising bat in the system, a young outfielder named Andre Ethier.
Billy was hoping Milton would thrive in a clubhouse known for its relaxed vibe. And for a while, he did. He was productive, got along well with Eric Chavez and Frank Thomas and especially enjoyed Nick Swisher. Those four provided most of the offense for the lone A’s team to win a postseason series over the past two decades.
But Bradley’s temper remains dormant for only so long. By the next season, with Thomas gone and Chavez injured, Milton lasted only a couple months before getting injured and cranky and no longer worth the effort. Beane surrendered.
Good Milton, who was so grateful for another opportunity, who promised it would be different, had once again been swallowed whole by Bad Milton, the one-man raging blaze. His heart was in the right place. He just couldn’t keep it there.
Bradley eventually bounced from Oakland to San Diego to Texas to the Chicago Cubs and, finally, to Seattle.
Each new start was going to be different.
Every new start was like all the others.
Bradley over the course of his career experienced countless ejections, suspensions and fines, and multiple domestic dispute allegations. He had been ejected twice in 10 days and was batting .218 when he was pushed out.
I believe Milton made sincere efforts to salvage his career, including last season, when he requested and received help from the Mariners before undergoing counseling.
Yet five years and four more chances since driving out of the Coliseum parking lot for the last time, Bradley stares at an abyss that looks very much like life after baseball.
I hope he’s lucky enough to see something more important. Like peace of mind.
Contact Monte Poole at mpoole@bayareanewsgroup.com.
