The chance to watch a great athlete like Roy Halladay is rare, and that might be a good thing, because I'm not sure any of us would be able to stomach watching another disintegration like the one that is unfolding before our eyes. Steve Carlton is always the first name people bring up, and the sadness in their words remains palpable all of these decades later. It's fascinating, really. What is it that enables us to feel any level of sympathy for a man who made and squandered more money than most of us will earn in our careers, who spent most of his time in our community sequestered in an impenetrable shell of self-sufficiency, who departed Philadelphia in favor of a concrete bunker in the Colorado wilderness, where his philosophies in life would be unencumbered by reality?