"The imagery is unmistakable. August has arrived and Todd Helton, the greatest Rockie of them all, isn't playing to the huge crowds in LoDo. He's in a bordering state and a parallel universe away in Casper, trying to rediscover his youth in the Pioneer League, a place reserved for teenagers on their way up.

But then, this isn't about imagery. Even in the 95-degree heat of summer, it's about cold, hard reality. It's about an aging veteran showing every sign of being at the end of the rainbow making one last-ditch attempt to dodge the wear and tear of time. And not just any veteran.

"This is Todd Helton," Rockies infielder Clint Barmes said. "He's the face of this franchise. Everything I learned coming up was from watching him, looking up to him early in my career. And I still do. That's the type of ballplayer I want to be. I'll never be Todd Helton, but the way he goes about his business . . . that's definitely carried over to other players in this clubhouse."

Therein lies Helton's greatest virtue, if not his greatest value. It can't be quantified, not even in an era of sabermetrics.

In a game played by written rules and lived by unwritten ones, he has shown his teammates — young and old, Rockies lifers and new arrivals alike — how to be a major-leaguer.

"The mentality, the character, the work ethic of this team . . . it's easy to have all that when the best player in the history of the franchise is the hardest worker on the team," Rockies manager Jim Tracy said. "With every good ballclub, you can categorize guys on the team who are carriers and guys who are helpers, and Todd is a carrier."