A new view of Cole Hamels

At the end of October, after he'd hoisted more trophies than Larry King's had trophy wives, you'd have thought Cole Hamels was the toughest man on the face of the earth.
Sure, he sounded like a cross between Michael Jackson and Steve Carell.
Sure, he looked like a surfer dude.
Sure, he's all gangly, his arms and legs flying forth as he tosses that unhittable change-up.
But he ate Manny Ramirez, Prince Fielder and Carlos Pena alive.
Between smiles he gave dragons noogies. After speaking softly, he could take on the entire UFC. And he didn't need a big stick.
This guy swam in pools filled with great whites. And they were afraid of him.
Then this comes out.
Hamels has a teeny-weeny, curly-haired dog. Not that there's anything wrong with that. My mom and dad have a cute, little chitzu-poo. But my dad doesn't throw fastballs past Evan Longoria and Ryan Braun.
My dad doesn't put the fear of god into Chipper Jones.
The really weird thing about this picture of Hamels, as Jeff Frantz so succinctly pointed out, is what reason on God's green earth is there for Hamels to need a backpack?
Sure, he looks young. He probably has to show his ID to get into R-rated movies. But a backpack? Seriously. Is he heading off to trig? OMG, guys. Where's my BFF?
But there is a prototype for the grown male carrying a backpack. Josh, played by Bradley Whitford, on the West Wing.
He always had a backpack slung over his shoulder.
While Josh helped President Bartlett run the free world, he never had to toss aside BJ Upton like it was nobody's business.
Cole Hamels is a baseball god. And not only do gods not answer letters, they don't carry little dogs around in their backpacks.
Are we going to tell Cole that?
No way.
We'll have David Ortiz do that.
Then we'll watch him go 0-for-4 with three whiffs the next time he faces Cole Hamels.