Fantasy baseball is a horrendous proxy for real baseball, and no one wants to hear about your stupid fantasy team. Except, there is one common problem for the real managers and the fake ones: Both of them have to rely on relievers, and relievers are flighty drifters who are more likely to steal your silverware than help your team. This is the story of one of the better relievers and why it's time to celebrate him, now that he's probably thrown his last pitch.

Joe Nathan tore his UCL, and he'll be 41 before he can possibly throw another pitch again. No one is openly saying the word "retirement," but that previous sentence is screaming it. He was one of the better closers in baseball on and off for nine different seasons, though he was in the shadow of Mariano Rivera during much of that time. Nathan is even off the left side of the Trammell-Ripken spectrum, a scale that informs us of the players we should have appreciated more when they were in the shadow of a Hall of Famer. Nathan is seventh all-time in saves, but he's about 200 away from automatic Hall of Fame territory for closers. He'll have to be remembered on his own merits.

Of which there are plenty. He's a six-time All-Star and two-time top-five Cy Young finisher, one of the more familiar faces for the perennially contending Twins teams of the late '00s. There are two reasons that I've been smitten with him for a decade and a half, though, and this seems like a swell enough time to rehash them.

The first is that Nathan is a converted shortstop. Conversion stories are the best stories because they combine the romance of scouting with the general uncertainty of baseball. Someone with a straw hat and wet cigar saw the sculpture of a pitcher in that lump of shortstop clay. There are pitchers who grow up pitching, who dominate at pitching throughout American Legion, in high school, in college, in the minors, and suddenly they reach a point where they're not good enough to pitch anymore. There's a cement ceiling, and they often crash into it elbow first. With someone like Nathan, though, there's the idea that every strong arm is a major leaguer in waiting, and all it takes is the right set of circumstances, raw talent, instruction and opportunity.

Hey, maybe if someone took the time to make you a pitcher in little league ... I mean, you never know.

The second, and more important, reason Nathan has been one of the more interesting stories over the last two decades is that he's a walking reminder that I'm not a scout, and I'm definitely not a doctor. I thought I was both when Nathan was a broken Giants prospect, and for the next 15 years, he was a coffee mug filled with the viscous sludge of humility. Baseball is the 32-volume set of stuff you don't know, and the unique path of a pitcher like Nathan reminds everyone not to get attached to the paperback filled with crap they do know. And here's what we knew about Joe Nathan in 2001:

He was a 26-year-old pitcher coming off shoulder surgery with a 7.29 ERA between Double-A and Triple-A, walking 70 and striking out just 54 in 108 innings.

How many red flags can you count? There's the age, poor control and low strikeout rate, for three. Then there's the flashing neon sign of "shoulder surgery" that tells you to spend your time with nearly anyone else. Maybe you give him one more chance, considering he was a prospect, and all. Here's what we knew about Nathan in 2002:

He was a 27-year-old pitcher a year removed from shoulder surgery with a 5.60 ERA in Triple-A, walking 74 and striking out 117 in 146 innings.

Better, but only relative to the horrific previous season. None of the red flags were removed entirely, and Nathan was a year older. You play amateur scout. You play amateur doctor. Is this a player you put on your 40-man roster? Is this a player you bother with out of a list of 300 minor league free agents?

Here's what we knew about Nathan for the eight seasons directly after that:

He was one of the best relievers in baseball, in the middle of one of the better bullpen stretches in modern baseball history, striking out 11 batters per nine innings, with a 2.04 ERA over nearly 500 frames

Awful in Triple-A at 26. Awful in Triple-A at 27. Comes back as someone who finishes in the top 10 in career saves and built something close to a Hall of Fame career. You know relievers are formed out of sticks and the wishes of needy children. Nathan is probably the best example of his generation, considering the longevity and efficiency.

If this reads like a eulogy, that's because it sort of is. There's no way he comes back from his second Tommy John surgery as a 41-year-old. He's probably not even going to try, right?

Nathan: "My mindset is to do what I need to do, work my butt off to get back in this game." — Jason Beck (@beckjason) April 23, 2015

One of the first responses to that tweet: "The guy is delusional." No, he's just someone who has climbed out of the underworld with a pickaxe and a corkscrew before. And, to be honest, I had this same column in my head after his first Tommy John surgery in 2010. He was probably done then, too. Except he pitched four more seasons and made two more All-Star teams.

Joe Nathan has probably thrown his last pitch. You're not a scout, though. You're not a doctor. If there's anyone who can come back and last longer than LaTroy Hawkins, it's Nathan. Not because of anything logical or expected, but just because it would add to an already ridiculous story that should have been over 13 years ago.