I got into an argument with a colleague the other day about A-Rod.

It was about money. Of course.

We were retracing A-Rod’s steps back to Seattle, and the moment of truth in free agency when he was a studly 24-year-old slugger. That’s right. Twenty-four.

He was coming off of a three-year stretch when he hit 42, 42, and 41 homers.

He was a God in Seattle.

He was  about to become insanely rich, even if he fired every advisor and hired "Lancelot Link, Secret Chimp" as his agent.

So, how did a guy like that end up like this, the back page pariah of the most storied baseball franchise in history? How did he continue to rack up monster numbers, while his popularity with fans and respect among peers plummeted?

Again, the argument comes back to money.

Of course, it’s always about the money with A-Rod.

That’s what happens when you intentionally signed with a team that was going nowhere fast, just because a star-struck Texas gazillionaire wants to make you the highest paid player in sports history.

A-Rod wanted that money. Now, he’s got to live with having that much money.

It is what it is. You can't change any of it.

The money has caused the jealousy. The money has made him untradeable. The money has raised expectations beyond all reality. Nobody would deny this.

But, he took the money.

So back to the argument. My colleague was remembering how much more of a God he would have been in Seattle, had he simply re-signed with the Mariners. Ken Griffey Jr., had just lied and cried his way out of town the year before.

Remember that ugly exit? Griffey cited death threats -- which no doubt were real -- but at the same time certainly didn't reflect the love of the fan base. He also said he wanted to be with his family in Florida.

Which is why he stopped in Cincinnati, of course.

Bitter. Ugly. Needless.

And A-Rod could have been the guy who stayed. The guy who said "Yes." The sports mega-star to say: "Seattle, I choose you."

According to my media buddy, the offer from Seattle was hardly cheap. About $170 million over 10 years. Wealth almost beyond comprehension, guaranteed, with a single stroke of a pen.

And all he had to do was play a kids’ game.

But then came Tom Hicks, willing to listen to the crafty numerical arguments from agent Scott Boras. Legend was, Boras came in with an entire three-ring notebook of stats, charts, graphs, and theses as to why A-Rod deserved a quarter-billion dollar deal.

Even the number, "252," was not an accident. It was intentionally double the previous record for largest single contract in sports history, that of Kevin Garnett.

And how is that working out for him?

Nowhere in that three-ring binder was a counter-argument to pushing the contractual limits. Nobody sat down with A-Rod and said: "You might want to think about this, first..."

And that smart person, who never got a seat at the table, who never found A-Rod’s ear, never got to explain what $252 million would mean in a negative sense, for the rest of the his career.

He never got to explain how it would become a gilded cage, a number bigger than the man, a constant source of negative karma the instant his batting average dropped, or the next time he struck out in a big post-season at bat.

But again, the argument came down to this: "The difference was $82 million! How can you walk away from that!"

To which I asked, honestly too, not in a sarcastic way: "So, what exactly is he doing with that extra $82 million right now?"

The glib answer was: "Anything he wants."

But, I wanted a serious answer. Because $170 million instantly covers about 3 or 4 generations of  Rodriguez’s. What does one do with all that extra money? Nobody begrudges a guy making $50,000 a year jumping to a job that pays $150,000.

Or even a sports star going from $1.5 million a year to $10 million.

But, once you are in the $100 million range, we're talking about "island purchasing money." Did A-Rod talk to any business icons with that kind of cash, and ask them: "So, what do you do with it?"

The answer, if he cared to ask, is that they almost all just try to give it away. Because you can't spend it. Not at that level. Not even Mike Tyson, Art Schlichter and Jack Clark living together on the top floor of the Wynn Casino can blow through that much.

So again, I ask: "What was his plan for the money, which apparently was very important to him?" I'm not judging, I'm just curious.

Had he taken that offer from Seattle, who knows where he would be now, how many rings he might have, or how much happier he might be. Sure, A-Rod looks happy. He talks happy. But, only a fool would think he really is happy.

A 30-year-old with 464 home runs doesn't end up there by accident. A-Rod is as driven to be the best as any superstar. So when he’s going 4-for-41 over his last 12 playoff games in the cruel fishbowl of Gotham,  you just know he’s not putting his head to pillow thinking happy thoughts.

At just $17 million a year, A-Rod would blend in with other salaries of this mega-rich baseball age. In fact, you would hear a word attached to him that hasn't been used in years: "bargain."

At just $17 million a year, A-Rod could have had that trade to the Red Sox, which ended up falling through because the union wouldn't let him take less money. (Irony alert: It’s his money, he’s just not allowed to not take every penny of it. That'll make you think.)

In Boston, with Nomar shipped out of town, A-Rod could look to his left and not see Derek Jeter. He'd be the crown jewel of the infield at his natural position, which is shortstop.

Who knows -- he might have even have been loved.

I just hope that $82 million extra he wanted buys A-Rod a nicer island than the one he’s currently stranded on.