Because You Never Asked

STEROIDS AND BARRY

(3/06. This is the companion to the previous essay, “Steroids and Lance”.)

     As mentioned in the previous essay (see essay “Steroids and Lance”), the “doping” that has become so prevalent in the world of sport probably got its start in the highly specialized, individual sports that pervade Olympic competition, sports where physical form play a more fundamental role than athletic gifts. But it didn’t take long for the rest of the athletic world to get in on the scam, including those sports where no amount of physical form can overcome a lack of special talent. But even in these “genial” sports, any edge in strength and/or stamina can tip the scales in an athlete’s favor. When people are playing for money, no stone will go unturned.

     One of the great ironies of American sport is that the “whipping boy” for steroid use has generally been the more pastoral, relaxed game of baseball. This, in spite of the fact that the pioneer in the widespread use of chemical sporting success has always been the more neurotic environment of pro football. Admittedly, without having any factual data to make an airtight statement, this writer would venture to say that there was hardly a player in the National Football League not using steroids at one time, and the practice could still be widespread. I mean … look at these guys. You don’t just add 25, 30, 35 pounds of evolutionary growth to the species in a time frame of a few years.

     So why has the issue exploded right on top of the game of baseball?

     Perhaps the best way to begin to answer this question is to delve into why this emotional earthquake did not rattle the steroid-riddled world of pro football. The “powers to be” would like us to believe that the pro football people have jumped all over the problem, have put in a tough policy of controls and penalties, yeah, sure. While writing this essay, the controversial running back, Ricky Williams, failed a drug test for the 4^th time! The penalty for his still alleged offense is a one year suspension. In light of the NFL’s “tough” rhetoric, this would seem little more than a wrist slap. If this is what happens after 4 transgressions, I’d guess the first time offender must go to his room.

     In any event, I won’t disagree with the fact that the NFL handles its public relations wars better than Major League Baseball. That MLB has suffered the wrath of anti-steroid sentiment far more than the NFL, in spite of the fact that steroid use was, is, and always will be more prevalent in football, is some proof of this. But the true reasons for this turn of events lies in the nature of each sport.

     When football players take steroids, it does virtually nothing to change the spectacle for the spectator. What does it matter if the players get bigger, stronger, and more explosive? They are still playing against each other on the same size field. It may even enhance the spectacle while in no way skewering the historic perspective of the sport. Yesterday’s stars can still be measured accurately against the modern game, and vice versa.

     The exact opposite is true in baseball, where a batter not only plays against the other players, but against the playing field itself. If a slugger can make himself artificially stronger, it makes the field smaller. It brings the fences in. It upsets the game’s balance.

     To illustrate this, let’s hypothetically say that a hitter is 10% stronger taking steroids, a not unreasonable figure judging from the average major league neck these days. This means that a ball that used to go 350 feet now travels 385 feet, which is frequently the difference between a long out and a triumphal trot round the bases.

     Sure, for the football fan, steroid use could be considered a negative thing --- bad for your health, bad example for the kids, etc. --- but when he or she looks down at the game on the field, nothing has been tangibly changed. It’s the same as its always been. There is nowhere to place blame, nothing that seems suspicious, everything is where it’s supposed to be. This is hardly the case in baseball, not just because steroids shrink the field, but because just about every move a player makes can be statistically quantified in a cruel, heartless, undeniable number. Numerical standards can be misleading and anyone who really knows baseball understands that being a good ball player does not always compute numerically. But the fact that the game so easily lends itself to numbers makes it the most prevalent way to not only compare player to player, but generation to generation. No sports records are more hallowed than baseball’s. They are almost a religion, and none more devoutly revered than records for home runs.

     The lightening rod for all this has become the somewhat less than loveable Barry Bonds, a talent of such immense proportions (and we are not just talking about his biceps here) that he has already shattered the home run record for a season, and, if his body can hold up for another year or two, will go beyond the Gods of Babe Ruth and Hank Aaron as the all time leader. For most American sports fans, this will be looked upon as a triumph for Satan.

     One cannot be fair without first saying the following: Barry Bonds has not been definitively shown to have taken steroids. “Officially”, he is clean. But in the court of Public Opinion, which is the only one that counts in this case, the verdict is in. This writer concurs in that verdict. If I have to explain further, you’d be better off moving on to another essay … or American Idol.

     However, in spite of his culpability, I don’t think he’s been treated fairly.

     By now, everyone knows that Barry Bonds is a high powered, perfectly tuned public relations disaster machine. If his plan is to have people not like him, he could be considered one of the world’s most successful people. If we were to put him on trial for not having WMD’s, he’d be convicted and executed immediately. Mike Tyson almost seems loveable compared to Barry.

     It’s hard to be objective about this man.

     Further compounding baseball’s “Barry dilemma” is the “Hall of Fame”. Being that baseball is our oldest athletic passion, tradition has a more tangible presence in its personality. No sports Hall of Fame is as romanticized as baseball’s. For player and fan alike, being enshrined in Cooperstown is like going to Baseball Heaven. Pete Rose could be described as a fallen Archangel for his gambling transgressions.

     Should Barry and other chemically tainted players be admitted?

     In Bond’s case, the answer should be an unequivocal “yes”. Lets’ start by saying that if not for the chemical experimentation currently marring his legacy, he’d not only be a candidate for the Hall of Fame, but for greatest player of all time. There was a season or two where his on-base-percentage (and the numbers don’t lie in this case) against Big League, hard ball pitching, would be impressive in a slow pitch beer league.

     The reason Barry and others in his situation have been treated unfairly is that steroid use in baseball (and all sports) was much more widespread than the fans have been led to believe. To call these players “cheaters” or “criminals” and other such epitaphs, is a substantial overstatement. Lots of people were doing it, openly, without feelings of guilt, and nobody was telling them not to. Many of them probably thought they were not doing anything wrong. All athletes look for an edge, and this one was there for the taking. Barry, and others, did not rape anyone, kill anyone, steal from anyone, start an immoral war leading to the deaths of thousands, nor rip the Constitution to shreds. They did perform poorly in explaining what they did, a standard not too far from average human behavior.

     Given this set of circumstances, Barry Bonds was not playing on a tilted field. The sport was riddled with chemicals and he still played better than anyone else … by far! The now gorilla-like Bonds was still a Hall of Fame quality player as that deer-like stud  we remember him as on the other side of steroids. In a skill sport like baseball, chemical enhancement is no guarantee for success. There must be a truck load of “doped” professional baseball players at all levels that none of us will ever hear of. Barry, like many other players, surely expanded the reach of his abilities, but he wasn’t better than others of his generation because of physical tampering; he was just better. He’s a Hall of Famer.

     OK, now for the bad news. This generation of baseball players, most exemplified by Barry Bonds, has had its collective legacy tainted against previous generations of players. I could never consider Bonds, regardless of the numbers, a better player than Willie Mays, or Mickey Mantle, or Frank Robinson, or Johnny Bench, or Roberto Clemente, or many others, finishing with the great home run king himself, Hank Aaron. Aaron was the most graceful athlete I’ve ever seen in any sport. Just watching him walk to the plate with a bat in his hands was a poetic experience. (Knowing that some sports lend themselves more easily to grace and poetry, I venture to name a few others in this category: Fred Couples, Roger Federer, Randy Moss, Carl Lewis.)

     I’ve purposely failed to mention the names of Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, and Rafael Palmeiro, the other players most associated with this subject. My opinion with regard to their Hall of Fame credentials are as follows: McGwire-yes; Sosa-undecided; Palmeiro-absolutely not. Anyone interested in my reasons knows where to find me.

     As for the inflated numbers and the record books … I guess we’ll just have to live with that. So what?

     Post Script: In a remarkable coincidence, a book further detailing Bond’s use of steroids came out while I was writing this essay. Though it is far more comprehensive than anything to date, it could be said we are beating a dead horse here. Anyone who still believes Barry and the others did not take performance enhancing drugs probably believes that George Washington threw a stone cross the Rappahannock (without steroids). But it has set off a whole new round of Barry-bashing that makes my more benign attitude seem even less mainstream, though it has not changed the feelings expressed in this essay.