No sympathy for Andruw Jones, Dodgers

Let the buyer beware. Or, in this case, let the Los Angeles Dodgers run away from Andruw Jones. There's no chance that his fat ass could catch up to anything on two legs or a good fastball these days.
Jones is 31 years old and already finished as a Major League baseball player. His two-year, $36.2-million contract isn't the only thing about him that's bloated, and he's currently stealing money from the Dodgers courtesy of his .167 batting average, two home runs and 44 strikeouts in 132 at-bats this season. Jones is almost unrecognizable at 240 pounds, his speed gone, his defensive ability just a memory, his power at the plate dried up. To think that all of this could be prevented, and that such talent has been squandered so quickly.
Jones burst onto the scene in Game 1 of the 1996 World Series, cracking two home runs in Yankee Stadium at the tender age of 19. He was 170 pounds then, still poor and hungry, still dreaming of becoming a star in the big leagues after coming from humble beginnings in Curacao. Jones' brilliance in center field was unmatched. His ability to track the ball off of opposition bats, speed and strong throwing arm made his an instant Gold Glove candidate, an award he has gone on to win 10 straight times from 1998-2007.
That Jones has come and gone, and the fact that he has won the award so many times proves that players vote based on reputation. He stopped being one of the National League's elite outfielders when he discovered Waffle House and Chick Fil-A, his weight ballooning to its current number. He clashed with his manager in Atlanta, Bobby Cox, because Jones refused to play the game hard. He wouldn't run out ground balls, dogged it when his outfield dives resulted in missed catches and balls rolling to the wall and never quite learned how to harness his swing at the plate. Aside from his .303 average in 2000, Jones has always been an all-or-nothing hitter, striking out 100 times or more every year since 1997. That was his first full season in the big leagues, and his declining power numbers leave his team with virtually no reason to put him in the line-up every day.
Jones' fellow players recognize this. He is routinely recognized around the league as someone who does the least with the most natural talent. His current manager, Joe Torre, is just about the only skipper in the big leagues who would play Jones over young talents Matt Kemp and Andre Ethier. Torre, much like This Manager in Boston, is loyal to a fault and reluctant to put declining veterans on the bench in favor of developing prospects. As former players, Torre and This Manager believe that the numbers will eventually even themselves out. For that, we still have a ridiculous debate over whether or not Jacoby Ellsbury should be playing every day for the Red Sox.
But I digress. Jones is currently considering surgery on his ailing right knee, a procedure that will mend partially torn cartilage. How much better would Jones feel if he wasn't lugging around 70 extra pounds? Jones has dismissed questions about his weight so far, insisting that he "feels good" and that his gut isn't an issue. He's right. There's nothing left inside him that would make him into an elite player again.