With apologies to the readers and my employers, I’m going to take off the cloak of impartial objectivity for this story. Adrián Beltré was my favorite baseball player of all time. And now, after 21 seasons, 2,933 games, 3,166 hits, 477 home runs, five Gold Gloves, and what we all hoped would be an endless supply of gifs and highlights, he is retiring from baseball, and I’m incredibly sad about it. Even more than I expected to be.



It’s not like it came as a surprise — game-stoppages and standing ovations in two different cities are writing on the wall in 3,166-point font — but that’s one of life’s most devious tricks: it gives you time to measure up the incoming news, to brace up, clench your teeth, and give one quick, grim nod at the dark figure on the horizon. And then it completely waylays you anyway.



I am writing this from the proverbial floor.



There will be no shortage of articles this week telling...