The man who has it all, millions and millions and at least 40 more coming, is crying.

He's sitting in the lobby of a fancy hotel here, his hands curled into fists to fight away the relentless tears.

He cares so much he cannot speak.

You know him, of course: "WELLS" across his back when he's playing and you might be booing.

To everyone else in baseball, he's "Vernon Wells, the guy with the big contract who sucks." And he understands.

"That's my name," Wells concedes in acknowledging how it all runs together these days, seven years, $126million and he cannot hit.

This year was going to be different, slow to start but coming on, he says, when he injured his thumb. And by the estimation of many fans, he did the Angels a mighty big favor disappearing.