Injuries have a cruel sense of timing—and an even worse sense of humor. Just when greatness knocks, the body sometimes slams the door shut. One Celtics icon just got a firsthand lesson in anatomy’s worst betrayal, and now a Major League Baseball player from the Red Sox is stepping in—not with sympathy, but with truth. Because when it comes to comebacks, reality doesn’t play favorites, even for Jayson Tatum.

Ask any sports person in the world, rupturing your Achilles tendon is one of the worst things to sit through because that can derail your whole career. And Jayson Tatum recently had to sit through that ill fate. While driving a loose ball in Game 4 on Monday, Tatum injured himself in a non-contact game action on the Madison Square Garden court.

With the 27-year-old, the latest victim, Red Sox player David Hamilton, just gave Tatum a reality check about the injury. After all, he went through the same in January 2019 before his junior year at the University of Texas. This electric scooter accident ended up costing him his entire 2019 season, eventually drawing a close to his college career prematurely. But later, he was drafted by Milwaukee in the eighth round that spring.

David Hamilton was one of those players who went through the long process of recovering from a torn Achilles, and that gave him some insight into what Tatum was going through. He said, “It’s tough injuring yourself in the playoffs like that. It’s not the right time for that to happen. It’s never really the right time. I was fortunate to be hurt, not in-season. He’s going to miss all of next year, too. It’s gonna be tough, man.”

This injury can have a big effect on your mind, as you don’t know the extent of it until you start to recover. While some athletes can recover in a few months, for others it will be years before they get back on the field or, in this case, hardwood. It took Hamilton 10 months to get fully fit and get back in the game, and Tatum might be facing the same time away from the court.

Hamilton also revealed that he had to relearn to walk and run correctly before putting his mind back into playing baseball. While this looks frustrating and painful, Tatum has to stay positive and look forward rather than hanging back.

Relearning how to walk isn’t exactly in the MVP playbook—but neither is watching the playoffs from the couch. As Hamilton proved, the road back isn’t glamorous, it’s grimy. And for Tatum, the hard part has only just begun. Achilles injuries don’t care about max contracts or All-Star nods. The grind is universal. Now we’ll see if Red Sox’s brightest star can outwork biology—and maybe even make gravity his ally again.

David Hamilton’s roster spot is in jeopardy as the Red Sox move forward

Baseball is a cruel game—just ask the guy still searching for his third hit while the rest of the league moves on. In a sport where production is currency and patience has an expiration date, MLB isn’t waiting around. The Boston Red Sox certainly aren’t. And unfortunately for David Hamilton, the harsh spotlight of reality may be brighter than any Fenway evening under the lights.

David Hamilton’s bat has gone colder than a Fenway April breeze. Through his initial 30 at-bats, he’s managed just two hits, good for a dismal .067 average. His one standout tool, speed, is useless if he can’t reach base. The Red Sox, thriving offensively, simply can’t afford a roster spot for dead weight production.

The emergence of Kristian Campbell has only tightened the vice. The rookie is slashing .305/.412/.474 and looking every bit like Boston’s future at second base. The Red Sox didn’t hesitate, locking him into an eight-year, $60 million deal. With Campbell thriving, Hamilton becomes the odd man out on a roster chasing October dreams.

If Boston cuts bait, Marcelo Mayer looms as the obvious next man up. The former fourth overall pick is torching Triple-A pitching, posting a .280 average and .548 slugging. Versatile across the infield, Mayer’s arrival could reshape the Red Sox depth chart overnight. Hamilton’s window may be slamming shut, and fast.

For Hamilton, the writing isn’t just on the wall—it’s flashing in neon. When your batting average starts resembling a typo and the farm system is bursting with talent, sympathy won’t keep you in the big leagues. In Boston, production talks and sentiment walks. And right now, Hamilton’s bat is saying absolutely nothing.