Hack Life

The Rockies’ NOLAN ARENADO is a star typical of today’s game—dynamic on the field, low-key off it. He offered SI a rare peek into his swing-filled downtime.

- Stephanie Apstein

ON FEB. 27, Nolan Arenado went missing. He arrived at the Rockies’ complex at 7:20 a.m. He agreed to an eight-year, $260 million extension. He hit in the cage and spoke at his press conference. Then he disappeared. GM Jeff Bridich stalked the halls, asking everyone, “Have you seen Nolan?” Video coordinators scanned feeds from around the facility. Staffers fanned out across the grounds. Finally Arenado’s agent, Joel Wolfe, located him on Field 2, hitting off the curveball machine. Wolfe was shaking his head.

Arenado had only verbally agreed to the contract. He had neglected to sign it. Telling the story now, Colorado centerfielder Charlie Blackmon laughs. If he woke up in line for a quarter-billion dollars, he says, “that’s probably No. 1 on my list of things to do, to sign that piece of paper, but not for Nolan.”

Four months and one day later, I meet Arenado, wearing a white T-shirt and track pants, at 12:45 p.m. outside his Denver apartment building. I am here to learn something—anything— about him. Since his 2013 debut, Arenado has been the game’s fifth-most-valuable player, with 36.1 WAR. At just 28, he has a chance to be the best third baseman ever. That’s essentially all I know, though, and he’d prefer that it stay that way. “I really didn’t want to do this,” he says. He’s not even sure he ever officially agreed to grant me