It’s time to show CarGo the adore

Baseball is played without a clock, but time’s running out on another season for Carlos Gonzalez. October means it’s over. So I’ve dropped by CarGo’s locker to say goodbye. Thumbing through a sales brochure for luxury watches, he looks up from his chair. There’s mischief in his eyes and the devil in his smile.

“You already miss me?” Gonzalez asks.

We do this dance every October. The Rockies miss the playoffs. Again. And everybody begins to wonder: Is this the end of CarGo in Colorado? With his 31st birthday looming and only one more season remaining on his contract, will this be the winter when the Rockies finally trade Gonzalez?

With a grin dancing the joropo in the corners of his mouth, CarGo anticipates the inevitable trade question the way he sits on a fastball in a 3-1 count. I’m concerned this could be his last home series in a Rockies uniform. Gonzalez responds with an idea that smacks me upside the head.

“I might be the next Todd Helton,” CarGo says.

I chuckle. Gonzalez cannot possibly be serious, can he?

For 17 seasons, Helton wore

No. 17 for the Rockies, as rock solid as Mount Evans at first base. Rather than bolting Denver in 12 months, would CarGo seriously consider a contract extension?

“Maybe I can be Todd Helton. That’s an option,” Gonzalez adds. “I might switch my number to 17.”

OK, don’t mess with us, CarGo. We need to know if you actually view the Rockies not only as a legitimate playoff contender in 2017 but a franchise with enough talent to keep you interested in staying in Colorado until the day you retire.

“It’s about winning. And at this point in your career, you want to be on a winning team,” Gonzalez says.

And he now believes Colorado can be a legit playoff contender, not only next season but for years to come.

“If you would have asked me early in the year, I would have told you I’m going to wait until I hit free agency and see what’s out there,” Gonzalez says. “But this is a good team. It’s a different feeling. Now I see how guys react in tough situations. We understand we can win. That’s huge for any team, when you trust and believe you can win. It’s not like, ‘Oh, we’re going to play the Dodgers, we’re going to get our butts kicked.’ Now we know we can win against anybody.”

Here’s the math problem Rockies general manager Jeff Bridich and franchise owner Dick Monfort must feed to the computer. From now until Gonzalez reaches his 38th birthday, what’s the likelihood his bat and glove will be worth an investment in the ballpark of $150 million? That’s a very expensive neighborhood, especially for an athlete on the back side of his career.

If management believes in CarGo, signing him to an extension should be as high on Bridich’s honey-do list as fixing the bullpen. On the flip side of the equation, should the Rockies decide that CarGo doesn’t project as a valuable hitter through at least age 35, the time to trade him is now.

CarGo brings such joy to the job, I don’t want to see him leave. But I also admit that unless the Rockies view Gonzalez as the long-term solution at first base, spending big dollars on a contract extension might not make sense.

Guess what? Gonzalez is willing to make the move.

“Every player that’s good offensively, as soon as you get to be 30 years old, they start moving you to the corner. That’s natural. That’s normal. I feel like I’m still a good outfielder and can help the team defensively,” he says. “But if first base is what’s best for the team, I will be good with that … In the long run, it’s probably going to extend my — or anybody’s — career if you play first base. And it won’t be a crazy move.”

Gonzalez takes nothing for granted and takes offense at nothing in this crazy business. The secret of being CarGo is his naturally sweet swing, but even cooler is his sweet outlook on life. Gonzalez believes: No matter how bad yesterday was, the sun had better find you dancing today.

“A lot of guys come up to me at the end of the season and say, ‘If I don’t get to see you wearing this Rockies uniform again, it’s been great watching you.’ And I tell them: ‘Hey, man, you’ve been saying that same (stuff) for five years now,” says Gonzalez, laughing so hard his eyes dance. “Maybe you’ll be telling me the same thing in 2020.”

Well, we can dream, can’t we? In October 2020, if CarGo and I are hanging around the batting cage before a playoff game at Coors Field, our laughter will be so loud it might be illegal.