Steroids? Nah. Jones ate himself off that HoF career arc. Towards the end of his stint in Atlanta, he would sweat gravy on a hot evening.
(And there's a lot of those in Atlanta during besbol season...)
Plus, he was known to socialize. A lot. A ballgame was merely a prelude to the rest of the evening. You could tell that even though his body was in the batters box, his mind was a gazillion miles away.
When the Braves parted ways with his buddy Raffy Furcal, that was supposed to be the final wake up call. Jones slept through it.
In his prime, though, I can't imagine a better CF. His ability to get a jump on a ball and run down anything gap-to-gap was other-worldly.
And I'll always give him a big thumbs-up for his testimony during the shake down of the Gold Club.
"Both of them, Your Honor."