Tracy Hudson broke out of the uterine bastille that was his mother sometime around 1974. From there, it’s mostly been a long downhill slide punctuated mostly by epic failure upon epic failure.
At the time this blog has begun, Hudson has worn many, many hats. He’s been a failed artist, a failed writer, a failed baseball player, and at a time of his life that some would call “more interesting than most”, he was a failed Real Life Supervillain.
Tracy HAS succeeded at being a drug addict, but he stopped being good at doing all the opiates for about four years now. So either he’s a failed junkie or a successful recovering addict. That all depends on how you view it.
Despite the obvious pattern alluded to above, Hudson is something of a masochist and still plugs away as a middling ballplayer and writer.