Tommy Hanson was a 6-foot-6 right-hander with red hair and, sometimes, a red beard.
To join youth baseball teams and afford the travel, he would chop away scrap metal, gather it and sell it. When he showed up at the Atlanta Braves’ camp in 2009 as a non-roster guy, he tore off a fingernail in a bullpen session and bled noticeably. He didn’t stop.
The Braves thought he might be another John Smoltz, with a cliff-diving slider and a mid-90s fastball. Chipper Jones suggested that manager Bobby Cox adopt a six-man rotation if that’s what it took.
Hanson made the five-man rotation on his own and was third in National League Rookie of the Year voting. He was on schedule to become one of the glossiest free agents in baseball, going into the 2016 season.
On Monday night he died in Atlanta. He was 29.
The “how” will be answered in due time. Hanson lapsed into a coma, and was said to have suffered “catastrophic organ failure.” A preliminary report indicated a “possible” overdose.
The “why” is unknowable, but those who knew Hanson refer to 2013.
That was Hanson’s only season with the Angels, after general manager Jerry Dipoto traded reliever Jordan Walden to get him. Hanson started well but left the team in May for a personal issue, returned, and left again in June. Eventually we learned that Hanson’s stepbrother Aaron had passed away.
After 2013, Hanson never pitched in the big leagues. He had shoulder woes, and he pitched for two Giants farm clubs last year. He was unsigned at season’s end.
Dennis Rogers was Hanson’s coach at Riverside City College. He and Hanson had discussed a “reinvention,” personally and professionally.
“Tommy had some things happen to him,” Rogers said Tuesday, “but basically he never was able to get past his brother’s death. I think whatever demons Tommy was facing can be traced back to that.”
An unusually deep and raw parade of condolences followed. Braves teammate Kris Medlen called it the worst day of his life. Hanson was a fishing partner of Mike Trout’s and was embraced by his Angels teammates when the bad news hit.
And this is not necessarily a story of neglect. The Angels and Major League Baseball provided counseling and psychological help. But the perceived guilt over the death of a loved one, especially a self-inflicted death, is often too powerful for therapy.
There is no “closure,” an awful word that merely describes the feelings of the bystanders. There is only acceptance, and forgiveness of oneself, never easy and much harder when you work in public.
Hanson’s might-have-beens were poignant. He had only one scholarship offer when he finished at Redlands East Valley High, so he played at Riverside CC and got physically stronger. After one season, the Braves drafted him in the 22nd round and offered a lot more money than you get selling scrap metal. Then Hanson illustrated himself most clearly.
“He turned it down and came back with us for a second year,” Rogers said. “That was pretty unusual. We call this level of baseball a nine-month romance. But he knew needed to get better.
“He was a draft-and-follow. At least one person from the Braves was at every game he pitched that year, and he really spiked. In all but one of his starts, he took us at least into the seventh inning. It was tough to take him out of a game, although he wasn’t belligerent about it. His feeling was that he started this game and his job was to finish it.”
In 2008, Hanson led all minor-league pitchers by holding hitters to a .175 average. After that season, he went to the Arizona Fall League and was 5-0 with an 0.63 ERA and 49 strikeouts in 28 innings.
He wrecked his Infiniti in Florida spring training and banged his head, joking that he would have to sell his “concussion car.” The real injury came later, not diagnosed immediately.
For some reason, we still tiptoe around mental health. We have protocols for busted shoulders but we’re somehow immobilized by suffering brains. Brandon Marshall of the Jets is candid about his personality disorder. Zack Greinke left the Royals with social anxiety disorder in 2006 but might win his second Cy Young Award next week.
Athletes make commercials touting medicines that stop blood clotting. How many of them are on antidepressants, in a nation where more than one person in 10 is? When will one of them tell us that it’s OK?
Nobody knows if anything could have saved Tommy Hanson. But everyone should be clear on what happens when you bleed. It’s OK to stop.
