Raúl Ibañez and the Honor In Hanging On

Have you ever tried to flush a spider down the sink? One burst of water should be enough, but the little monster hangs on. You splash water on him, but he shakes it off—disoriented, legs tangled, unwilling to die. Suddenly you feel guilty, kill the faucet, and walk away. Let the spider find his own way out—either onto the counter, or down the drain.

This is how Major League careers end. A fading all star gets a non-roster invite to spring training, and a few weeks in AAA. A big league injury brings him back to the show, but his bat slows down and he finds himself cut. After an unmoored week, another team picks him up, and he's playing in an unfamiliar jersey for fans who thought he retired a year or two back. Even if he survives 'till fall, he's a free agent again, a little bit older and a little bit worse, hoping for another year.

There are exceptions. A select few players get a victory lap. Mariano Rivera gets a throne; Jeter gets a surfboad; Chipper Jones stands awkwardly next to "an artwork." But the spider does not get closure. The spider does not get a retired number and his name in monument park. The spider, if he is lucky, gets a chance to start over in spring.

This year, it's Raúl Ibañez's turn to do the spider's dance. After seasons with the Yankees and Mariners, he started 2014 DHing for the Angels'. In April he got his 2000th hit—a game-tying three run shot against the Mets, which called to mind the three improbable home runs he hit in the 2012 playoffs. That was his Yankee year, and although Wikipedia claims that October made Ibañez "a beloved New York sports figure," he would not return to pinstripes. The shine of his 2000th hit wore off quickly, and he was released by the Angels after a half-season hitting .157. As a parting gift, he received platitudes of the stalest kind.

"Raúl's going to be tough to replace in the clubhouse," said Angels manager Mike Scioscia. "He brings so many intangibles."

A nineteen year career seemed to have ended, in the quietest way possible, but those intangibles were enough for Ibañez to find refuge in Kansas City. He picked up where he had left off in Anaheim, going 4-34 in the nine games before the All-Star break, and where recent Royals teams might have had room for a slumping 42-year-old, they have a shot to make the playoffs this year, and won't tolerate Ibañez for long.

Maybe the All-Star break was enough for him to clear his head. Maybe his bat hasn't really turned to dust. Maybe he heats up, and finishes the season respectably, something close to his above-average 2013. Maybe he does it again next year, and the year after that, and the year after that. Maybe Raúl Ibañez is the next Julio Franco, or maybe he'll be out of baseball by August. Assuming the Yankees don't make the playoffs, we know that Jeter will start his last game in the Bronx at 7:05 PM, September 25th. (Upper deck tickets are going for as little as $212, so get yours now!) But Ibañez can go at any time, and that's something any honest person should relate to.

There are more famous players than Ibañez circling the drain. Carlos Beltrán is having a terrible year, but the Yankees are stuck with him through 2016, and he's bounced back from slumps and injuries before. After a year out of baseball, Bobby Abreu has resurfaced with the Mets, who have been starting him far more often than a rebuilding team should. Alfonso Soriano remains a free agent after being cut by the Yankees, and Jason Giambi, 43 and on the DL, is hanging on by the skin of his biceps in Cleveland.

Fourteen men aged 37 or older have pitched in the majors this year. They include the indomitable Koji Uehara, and the slightly more domitable Joe Nathan. Mr. Potato Head lookalikes Scott Atchison and Tim Hudson are having bounce-back seasons, while Bartolo Colón remains the happiest man in baseball, no matter what the score. Shawn Camp was released after 3.1 innings, two years after the Cubs ground his arm into dust over 80 games. He's a free agent now, if anybody wants him.

The truly cruel thing about major league retirements is that most of them will come when no one is looking. Right now, Soriano is waiting for a phone call. If no one signs him this year, maybe he goes out for spring training next year, or maybe he issues a release announcing his retirement, earning a three paragraph news blurb on a quiet day during hot stove season. If Shawn Camp retires this year, he won't even get that. This is what Ibañez and Giambi and Abreu are fighting to stave off, and that refusal to quit is just as impressive as anything they've done on the field.

Their talent is flickering, their bodies collapsing. They work harder for lesser results. It's easy to quit while you're on top, to walk away a millionaire with New York at your feet. These men have taken the harder road, and you should watch them while you still can. They don't need statues; they don't need gifts. Just watch, like you always have, and clap if they get a hit.

W.M. Akers is a Tennessee playwright who lives in New York. A features editor forNarratively, he is good at Twitter.