He’s not even Erin’s dad, but The Legend Of Cecilio Guante has (not for the first time, either) has declared The Sultan Of Surgery to be King Shit Of All-Things Shoulder-iffic in the aftermath of Joba Chamberlain’s most recent examination.
Forget about draft picks, prospects and advance scouting, every year at least one professional franchise is pinning their expectations for a season on Dr. J. Does my stud pitcher need to shut it down? Does our feature back need re-constructive surgery? Can it wait? What are the consequences? In the world of professional sports, Dr. Andrews is a wise, cherubic Southern Buddha. All-knowing and, sometimes, all-powerful, his Miyagi-like skills can resuscitate dreams or cripple them.
He can be the answer to a team’s prayers, or a confirmation that prayer may be the only remaining option. The numbers from last September’s ESPN article are staggering. Over 4,000 surgeries. 2,500 Tommy John procedures. And how about the veritable who’s who of stars that have passed through his doors – whether for consultation or construction. With names like Aikman, Jordan, Iverson, Nicklaus and Smith (Emmitt), Andrews could erect his own wall-of-fame that could rival any politician or famous restauranteur in America.
Without even mentioning Andrews’ contributions to the world of professional wrestling, The Ledge makes a compelling case, so much so that Doctors Jack Ramsey, Arthur Pappas and Allen Lans can only stand back in awe.