I’m busy dodging the treacly stories on Jon Lester’s triumphant return to health/MLB/no-hit status. Not because I’m a bitter cynic (which I am) but because this story’s Hollywood ending was never in doubt. Not for a second. Lester was always going to be OK. He was always going to come back. This fanfare/weepshow was always going to happen.

Why? Because athletes don’t die. I should clarify that statement: They don’t die of natural causes–disease, illness, infection. But they can be killed. They are, in fact, human.

When I say that, I’m sure everyone thinks of Sean Taylor. Taylor took a bullet in his femoral artery; the artery was shredded; there was simply no way to help him. Or, if you want to go back a little farther, there’s Derrick Thomas. Thomas rolled his SUV on January 3, 2000. He wasn’t wearing a seatbelt; he was ejected from the vehicle; and he was left paralyzed from the chest down. A blood clot formed in his chest, moved into his lungs, and he died.

Or maybe you’re thinking about the boating accident that killed Steve Olin and Tim Crews. Crews, who was drunk at the time, steered the boat into a pier. His head hit pine at thirty-five mph, Olin’s head hit a bollard, and that was it.

And then there’s a guy like Korey Stringer, who died after a pre-season workout. He died of heatstroke after his body temperature hit 108.1. You can’t cure that.

And Darryl Kile? His heart stopped overnight, and he was found the next morning. At that point there was nothing they could do.

But, if medical science is even half-developed in the field in which the athete becomes ill, then a complete recovery is almost assured. Everyone’s heard about MRSA, Necrotizing Fasciitis (The Flesh-Eating Disease), Hodgkin’s Disease, Cancer, Leukemia, etc. How many athletes suffer staph infections? How many lose digits? A couple years ago Toronto’s Alex Rios suffered a serious bacterial infection in his left leg. It was so serious that he was hospitalized, missing more than a month. Of course no one expected him to lose the leg, but we’re talking about a very serious infection. Twenty-six games later he was back playing baseball.

Richard Zednik had his carotid artery sliced by a skate. Two weeks later he was giving a press conference.

In 1993 Mario Lemieux was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Again, that’s a treatable disease–and Lemieux was an elite athlete–but thirty days…A month. That’s how long Lemieux was out before he started in a playoff game–a game scheduled the night of his final radiation treatment.

Lance Armstrong. The man survived testicular cancer and won the Tour de France.

Phil Kessel and Mike Lowell–survived cancer. Jason Blake–the man played through cancer last year. It looks like Doug Davis is going to be activated by the Diamondbacks next week. And he had thyroid surgery three weeks ago. Like Blake, Davis plans on pitching while undergoing treatment.

Andres Galaragga. He missed 1999 after being diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, but came back in 2000 and played at a high level for a few years.

Eric Davis and Darryl Strawberry: Both beat colon cancer.

John Kruk: Testicular cancer.

If a professional athlete is twenty to forty years old, if he’s on an active roster, if he’s good, he’s not going to die. Probably not. Athletes, like celebrities, enjoy a quality of health care that verges on bottle service at 21. In Toronto, where MRI wait times routinely hit four-six months, athletes are in and out of the magnets on demand. Late in the ‘08 season, after injuring his knee, Mats Sundin had to wait about as long as an ambulance ride to get in the MRI machine and hear his diagnosis. Same with T.J. Ford, same with Colin White.

Clubs buy MRI time from hospitals, and use their hours like debit cards. They go in when they want.

Doug Davis was diagnosed around March 28, 2008. On April 10 he had surgery.

I’m glad these guys are living–I’m just trying to figure out why the cure’s guaranteed. You’d figure they’re healthy, in prime physical condition, and young-ish. That helps. And they’ve got money. That helps. But whose money’s being spent? The player’s or the club’s? Well, they’ve all got huge medical insurance plans–paid for by the team. They’re investments. By keeping them alive, clubs are protecting their assets. That’s why James Andrews performs almost every TJ surgery on MLB-universe pitchers. It’s not that other guys can’t do it; rather it’s that Andrews is the perceived master. An insurance company might be a little reticent to pay the salary of an injured pitcher who got his elbow done by Dr Tom. If that pitcher never comes back, then the question (in court) will be, “What if Andrews had done it?” “If Andrews had done it, he’d be playing now.” And, of course, teams want their stars back. They’ll go with Andrews until someone else grabs the brass ring.

I’m just a little jaded. Alonzo Mourning, suffering from a serious kidney disease, beat the Raptors for his salary. He was too sick to play. Fast forward a couple years and he’s blocking shots for Miami.

Maybe it’s the plane rides.