According to the Daily News, A-Rod is doing well following surgery less than a week ago. “He’s in a good frame of mind,” said Joe Girardi.
Yeah, but how good? That’s what I wanted to know. The Daily News article mentioned that the patient is no longer dependent on these…
and that he’s about to continue his post-surgery rehab here.
But come on, what else? I needed more details than that. So I hopped on a plane back to Colorado and went in search of A-Rod to gauge his recovery for myself.
I landed in Vail, a picturesque village whose mountains were still capped with snow.
After getting my bearings (the flight was very turbulent), I asked the townspeople if they could direct me to A-Rod.
“He’s renting the Miller estate,” said the guy wearing the white cap.
I asked for the address, which he was kind enough to write down on a piece of paper for me.
“You can’t miss it,” he said. “It’s on the market for $10 million. This A-Rod of yours must be loaded.”
“He’s comfortable,” I replied. My mother taught me never to say the word “rich.”
I took a cab to the Miller estate.
I rang the bell and waited several minutes until a man – not Cousin Yuri but a butler – answered the door.
“Um, hi,” I said. “Is A-Rod home? Tell him it’s She-Fan just checking on his progress.”
“Mr. Rodriguez is not here,” he said. “He is engaging in some rather intensive rehabilitation for his hip.”
“Could you tell me where I could find him?”
Reluctantly, he gave me an address and off I went – only to be shocked by what I discovered. A-Rod was not only walking without crutches; he was walking really fast.
I tried to keep up, so I could pepper him with questions, but he got away from me.
An hour later, I tracked him down and was even more shocked when I saw how rigorously he was rehabbing in the pool.
I tried to speak to him, but he was underwater. And as soon as he came up for air, he was gone again – this time to a place where I couldn’t reach him.
“A-ROD!” I called up to him. “DON’T YOU THINK YOU MIGHT BE PUSHING IT?”
He ignored me. When I turned away, only for an instant, he was gone yet again. Apparently, there was another exercise program on his agenda.
“YOU NEED SUPERVISION!” I yelled to him. “SOMEBODY SHOULD BE SPOTTING YOU!”
I hailed another cab and followed him to a local skating rink. This time he was not exercising alone.
Wow, I thought. This man is bionic.
After A-Rod and his partner finished their routine, they went back to the Miller estate to relax.
I felt like an intruder, but I asked him how he was feeling.
“Good,” he said. “Better than good. Please tell Yankee fans that my recovery is way ahead of schedule.”
I was about to leave when A-Rod got up from the table and said he wanted to prove just how ahead-of-schedule his recovery is. All I can say is, I hope Dr. Phillipon knows what he’s doing.