There goes my hero, watch him as he goes.

Before I get to the "Friday Beer Post," I'd be remiss if I didn't comment on the announcement today by Frank Thomas that he is retiring from baseball.

It's extremely interesting to watch how players approach the end of their careers. Some bow out too early (Jim Brown or Barry Sanders come to mind), some bow out too late (Willie Mays is a prime example), while others make multiple attempts at quitting, as if they're trying to kick a bad habit (Michael Jordan, and almost every boxer in history are good examples of this type). It basically comes down to weather you're able to call it quits for yourself, or if other people call it quits for you. Frank has it both ways.

Since his last game in August of '08, there hasn't even been a whiff of playing time for "The Big Hurt." Basically the management in baseball had done the whole "retiring" business for Frank. But in typical Frank Thomas fashion, he was going to have the last word, hell or high water. So today Frank is "announcing" his retirement. In typical Ozzie Guillen fashion, after publicly praising Hurt, Ozzie decided to publicly poke Frank by saying "I never officially announced my retirement [as a player], either -- I never did. So I would like to announce my retirement tonight, too.'' (If that doesn't sum up the hilarious, some time contentions, relationship those two have had over the past 20 years, I don't know what will)

(Frank and Ozzie. Smiling wasn't necessarily typical of their relationship. From: the Trib)

I am focusing on this today because Frank Thomas, and his unbelievable ability to hit a baseball, was the hero of my youth. Growing up in the Chicago area, I fell in love with the way Frank approached hitting. I modeled my stance in little league off of his (start standing straight up, crouch on approach, weight on the front foot, back leg off, one hand finish), I bought Fleer baseball cards because he was sponsored by them. He was one of two athletes who ever got a poster up on my wall (Dan Marino was the other). I had Big Hurt Reebok cleats. I even chewed his brand of bubble-gum. If everyone has someone they want to be when they grow up, Frank Thomas was that person for me.

(You better believe I had this game. Works with Windows 95!)

It was the little things that I remember most about Frank. The 5-pound iron rebar pole he swung in the on deck circle, and. The omnipresent wad of chewing gum . The hitch in his throwing motion (which I, of course, picked up). The way he'd drop his ass, fling his bat out, and drop a single over the first baseman's head on a waste pitch. And, of course, his near perfect batting eye (he walked more times than he struck out over his career).

(His perch on-deck. Note the iron pole.)

The last time I saw him live was his fist game in Chicago wearing another teams jersey (Oakland). Before his first at bat, the crowd gave him a richly deserved standing ovation for his 16 years in a Sox uniform. He then proceeded to hit a bomb off of Jon Garland. The crowd, obligingly gave him another standing ovation as he trotted around the bags. During his next at-bat, the crowd again rises to its feet, he hits another bomb off of Garland, and, yet again, we gave him a standing-o. It couldn't have happened any better (and the Sox still won).

Towards the end of his career, Frank also became one of the leaders of the anti-steroids movement. In March of '05, while Mark McGwire wasn't willing to talk about the past, Rafael Palmeiro was wagging his finger at Congress, and Sammy Sosa was forgetting how to speak English, Frank was jumping through hoops to get his testimony in. He was the only active player to openly cooperate with the Mitchel Report. He consistently spoke out against his peers use of performance enhancing drugs, and, even though he was constantly plagued by injuries and forced to watch those same users pass him by on the field, he never gave in to the temptation to use. He played the game clean. This makes his un-enhanced performance all the more remarkable.

Frank will have to wait until 2014 to take his rightful place in Cooperstown. Let me assure you, as one of the only great players from the past era of baseball to play the game clean, his .300 average, back-to-back MVPs and 500+ home runs will get him in. After all, he may have been the closest we'll ever come to a right-handed Ted Williams. I hope to be there when he goes in, almost as a bow on the end of my childhood.

I'll end with this quote by his former hitting instructor Walt Hriniak. "He was the best of his era and he was clean,'' Hriniak said. "That means something.''