Omar Vizquel, Jim Thome and other veterans hold onto their dreams and aid their teams

The aging boys of summer want one more time in the sun before becoming the men of winter.

Saying goodbye is the hardest thing in life. It doesn't matter if it's to a loved one, a cherished pet, your first car, a faded pair of jeans ... or a career.

It used to be that that last one happened as our lives were winding down, closer to our own sunset than our sunrise. Forty, 50 years of stamping metal, punching clocks, filling sales quotas, conference room bingo and mission statement malarky were going by the wayside as we prepared -- happily in most cases -- to spend golden years with bridge, golf and grandchildren.

Sadly, that's not the case anymore, not in this economy. More and more of us are losing one job only to have to find another to keep the wolf at bay.

In a way, it's something we now share with professional athletes, men and women whose careers perhaps peaked in their 20s and ended in their 30s, the time when most of us were just hitting our stride as productive members of the workforce.

Empathy? Sure. Sympathy? Not so sure.

But empathy means that we can understand fellows like beloved former Indians Jim Thome and Omar Vizquel. Those two men, perhaps out of all the Indians in recent memory, have special places in Tribe fans' hearts. And maybe that's why we can understand -- and root for -- their bids for one more day in the sun.

Alden Gonzalez of mlb.com today posted a piece about Thome and Vizquel, both of whom are still wearing Major League uniforms, and their peers who just can't let go. But Gonzalez's piece isn't of the stars who can't quit but should; it's about the men in baseball who are sharing the last vestiges of their considerable gift.

They were the headliners. The faces of their franchises. The ones fans came out in droves to see, and the ones who at times carried the weight of an entire 25-man roster on their backs.

Now, previous stars like Lance Berkman, Jim Edmonds, Jason Giambi, Jim Thome, Omar Vizquel and Kerry Wood are on contending teams as smaller pieces to a bigger puzzle -- one they hope can assemble into a World Series champion.

But before that happened, ego had to be checked and a reality needed to set in -- the reality that they're not the players they once were. And now, in the latter parts of their baseball careers, they have to accept lesser or specialized roles in hopes of winning it all.

Who wants to let go? Not me. Not you. And not them.