The Dark Side of the Diamond

From Prodigy to Predator - Wander Franco

The grass is freshly cut. The hot dogs are overpriced. The air smells like promise. It’s Opening Weekend in Major League Baseball—a sacred time when hope is undefeated, and every team is tied for first. Fans pour into stadiums wrapped in the same optimism we’ve carried for over a century: this year could be the year. There’s a rhythm to it all. A pageantry. The timeless, poetic beauty of a game where nothing really happens for long stretches, until—suddenly—it all does.

But this season, while everyone else is scanning box scores and checking rookie projections, I’ll be looking elsewhere. My eyes will be on the shadows cast just beyond the foul lines.

Last year, I spent time wrestling with my boyhood idol, Pete Rose. “Charlie Hustle,” the embodiment of hard-nosed baseball. He was everything I admired as a kid—relentless, passionate, consumed by the game. He slid headfirst into history. And then he slid right out of the Hall of Fame. He bet on baseball. He lied about it for years. He play…