At long last, the Mitchell report is available to the public, and many names were indeed named. Roger Clemens, Miguel Tejada, David Justice and Nook Logan (sorry, I just love that name) were but a few of many well-known and (Nook) not-so well-known players. It was both an exciting and ugly day for baseball, and a whole lot of people seem to have a whole lot to answer to. The release of the report will certainly prompt deeper investigations, by both the feds and the MLB, and some legacies in the game might never recover.
Which is all a big load. Steroid use in baseball, while an important matter that needs stronger addressing, is the most overblown sports story in recent memory, sensationalized by a number of individuals in baseball, in the media and in Congress, who are remiss to either admit their own culpability or shame in cheering for these alleged users. I do agree that a level playing field should be maintained and illegal drug usage is certainly illegal and therefore punishable, but what this fervor for “justice” has done is nothing more than to have brought an unnecessary and unfair McCarthyism to baseball.
The first, and perhaps greatest, grudge I have against this type of public reaction is the fact that people are chiming in a bit too late. Concerns over performance-enhancing drugs were sprouting in the late 90’s, when the home run surge happened and McGwire admitted to using andro. At that time, some serious questions were raised, but for the most part, all parties shrugged their shoulders. The fans and the media ate up the home runs, and baseball (both owners and players alike) made big money. Everybody was happy, even though it was fairly obvious to those willing to look that some players might have been benefiting from a little extra help.
The fact that some drugs were once legal and that many of these alleged players have never tested positive or have been known to purchase or use these drugs is immaterial in the court of public opinion. Just mentioning somebody’s name and attaching steroids to it is enough for a baseball player to be tarred and feathered and chased out of the village. It’s even to the point where many people and media members will affect the legacies of ball players on nothing more than mere hunches. Albert Belle? Oh, yeah, he got big and beefy, didn’t he? Plus he was an ass, so asterisk him, too! (Yes, yes, I know, asterisk is not a verb, but neither is Netflix…)
The inflated standard that is set is so ridiculously subjective, yet no one is willing to admit to it. Rafael Palmeiro, Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire and maybe even Roger Clemens now may never see their plaques in the Hall of Fame, due more in part to the clamor raised than the actual or alleged roid use attached to their names. And Jason Grimsley? Who? Ah, that relief pitcher, yes, we all vaguely remember him. Another problem with this witch hunt; many out there only give a hoot about the big salary players, not the lesser known players, or the providers and enablers like BALCO or McNamee, or the owners who essentially turned a blind eye to what was going on in their sport. I’ve always had a moderately-low opinion of commissioner Bud Selig, and seeing him promise to shake things up and strike down the wicked after years of blatant negligence is most bothersome. I don’t want to downplay the players and the union on this too much, but the fact of the matter is that they are the only ones the average fan cares about, even though there is a shared complicity amongst many parties.
Now, Barry Bonds is going to be the defendant in what will be the fifth “trial of the century” that we have had in the last seven years. Another sham. Why, you may ask? Because nobody cares, other than whether or not he’ll admit or be found guilty. Nobody cares what his punishment will be. Most people have made up their mind about who he is and what he has done. Everybody knows that the results won’t change much of anything. And a great deal of taxpayer money will be wasted on it. Like I said, a sham, an attempt by the feds to get the one big kahuna so as to prove they haven’t wasted everybody’s time. The point isn’t legal satisfaction so much as it is public satisfaction, and that alone makes the proceedings a joke.
Inevitably, steroid talk and Barry Bonds talk leads us back to another loathsome topic; the dreaded asterisk. Yep, the sports media’s notion of punishing unlikable players with an asterisk is popular again. And it means just as much as it meant when applied to Roger Maris, which is close to nil. Asterisk enthusiasm is the apex of steroid paranoia. This guy cheated, you say? Asterisk! Brand him forever! More than anything else, more than punishment by the law, or long and indefinite suspensions or even more than exclusion from the Hall, people want a permanent label attached to a player’s record, a lilliputian notation that does little to deny the fact that someone hit over 755 home runs.
What is the biggest problem with the asterisk? You can’t substantiate it. You say Barry Bonds used performance-enhancing drugs? OK, when? Give me a time period. How often? Now determine the lasting metabolic effect on his body. Let’s say he only took steroids in 2001, his single-season HR breaking year. Is an entire career tarnished by one year? Should we pretend that this year didn’t happen? Take those numbers away, and he is still a Hall of Famer for those willing to vote him in.
But maybe getting caught just once is good enough for most out there (seems that way). Fine then, put an asterisk near Barry Bond’s HR record. Do the same for all of his other marks and MVP awards. Now do the same for all other proven, or hell, even alleged players. Let’s have an asterisk next to Ryan Franklin’s 45 career wins and 4.25 ERA (I can hear some of you saying “Who?” already). There, don’tcha feel better? But why stop there? Let’s throw an asterisk at the six players that were caught using corked bats. And what about the spitballers? Yes, yes, we’ve been too lenient on guys like Joe Niekro all these years. And if Pete Rose hasn’t been punished enough for some of you, let’s place an asterisk next to all of the games he managed, because you certainly don’t know how many he may have bet on, do you now?
Asterisk support is nothing more than a small piece of solace for those fans embarrassed by the fact that they were wowed for years by a guy that might have been juiced. And steroid paranoia is nothing more than an over-exaggeration by baseball fans who are always, amazingly, shocked to find out that baseball is not as pristine and innocent as they once thought. Performance-enhancing drug use is a punishable offense and that’s as it should be. But the holier-than-thou attitude adopted by those upset with this part of the game shouldn’t be too quick to judge until they have taken a harder look at baseball people, the media and themselves.