The Futility Infielder

I've got a good friend whose politics I generally agree with, who for the purposes of this article we'll call Bob. Bob has a tendency when debating certain issues to veer towards a self-righteousness that's so shrill it can make whatever he's arguing against seem like a good idea. I've pondered this phenomenon for years and can't completely explain it, except to say that there are moments where I would rather be complicit in the world's great evils -- clubbing baby harp seals, selling poisoned milk to school children, and cutting taxes for billionaires, let's say -- than have to endure Bob's rants for one more minute.

I'm reminded of this because it's my reflex reaction to the moralizing which has already taken hold over many of our nation's sportswriters regarding the issue of steroids, a moralizing that is only sure to become more pervasive in the coming days, weeks, and months. If the Lupicas, Baylesses and Mariottis are so up in arms, then maybe these 'roids ain't so bad. I don't really feel that way, of course, any more than I really want to club baby seals. But neither do I want to hear about steroids every day and night for an entire baseball season. I endured four months of winter for this?

But at a time when spring's renewal should be generating quite a buzz about baseball, increasingly ominous clouds have gathered overhead. Earlier this week the San Francisco Chronicle reported that the names of six players who allegedly received performance-enhancing drugs from the Bay Area Laboratory Co-Operative (BALCO) were turned over to the federal government. Three of the names are big ones -- Barry Bonds, Jason Giambi, and Gary Sheffield -- with Marvin Benard, Benito Santiago and Randy Velarde rounding out the rogues gallery. The players were reportedly given drugs by Greg Anderson, Bonds' personal weight trainer and friend. According to the Chronicle:

Anderson allegedly obtained a so-called designer steroid known as "the clear" and a testosterone-based steroid known as "the cream" from BALCO and supplied the substances to all six baseball players, the government was told. In addition, Bonds was said to have received human growth hormone, a powerful substance that legally cannot be distributed without a prescription, investigators were told.

Agents obtained the information about the baseball players and illegal drugs last September during a probe that resulted in the indictment of Anderson, BALCO owner Victor Conte and two other Bay Area men on steroid conspiracy charges.

The information shared with The Chronicle did not explicitly state that the athletes had used the drugs they were said to have obtained. Bonds, who is baseball's single-season home-run king, and Giambi, who won the American League Most Valuable Player award when he was with the Oakland Athletics, have publicly denied using steroids. So has Sheffield. All three declined to discuss the matter Monday.

The news brings to a fever pitch the speculation which has swirled since Bonds, Giambi, and Sheffield were amog those who testified before a grand jury probing BALCO in December. Athletes from several sports, including track star Marion Jones, football players Bill Romanowski and Barrett Robbins, and boxer Shane Moseley also testified then, as did Giambi's brother Jeremy, but back then none of them were being accused of any wrongdoing. Now every sportswriter with a soapbox on which to stand is ready to play judge, jury and executioner for the three stars without even acknowledging that they haven't been charged with anything. This is ugly, and it's going to get worse.

I certainly don't condone the use of performance-enhancing drugs, but I have a hard time mustering the hysteria that comes so easily to some. Many of the drugs that have been spotlighted over the past several years --think androstenedione, Mark McGwire's juice of choice -- weren't illegal or explicitly banned by MLB until recently, and as Jon Weisman reminds us, you can't retroactively punish or reprimand somebody for something which wasn't a rule at the time. Much of the evidence about their usefulness or their harmfulness is less than conclusive, and as some of the more astute writers have pointed out, credible alternative explanations for notable increases in body size do exist.

As for the "integrity of the game" or the disruption of its statistical continuity due to "dopers," any student of baseball history can tell you that the wide fluctuations in offense over the past century -- the high-offense 1930s and the low-scoring '60s -- keep the current era in perspective. That's what advanced performance metrics are for, kids. And really, does the level of steroid use today create more of a farce than the presence of a color line that banned blacks from the game for over a half-century, or the current syndicate ownership of the Montreal Expos? Is our statistical continuity threatened by McGwire and Bonds any more than it is the high-altitude hijinks of the Colorado Rockies? I think not.

While I want to see the game I'm so passionate about come up with a sensible way to handle the problem, I see the failure to do already in the context of a labor-versus-management war that has waged continuously for the past 35 years. The owners have historically shown a strong aversion to bargaining in good faith and produced union-busting tactics such as collusion and replacement players, and they've offered up a general dishonesty about the game's financial state as well. None of this justifies the players' use of such substances, but the owners' actions haven't engendered the kind of trust necessary for the Major League Baseball Players Association to join the owners in constructing an effective and proactive means of combatting their usage either. While the players' conduct in this matter hasn't ben exemplary, their hands have yet to be forced, and the MLBPA didn't get to be the most powerful labor union in history by selling out its rank and file just to appease a casual fan's notion that everything was a chemical-free hunky dory.

The most recent Collective Bargaining Agreement did include a testing program for the first time. The initial step took place last spring, when all 1,200 players on the teams' 40-man rosters were tested anonymously, with the results remaining confidential. Between five and seven percent -- 60 to 84 players -- tested positive, enough to trigger mandatory testing this spring.

Seeing the policy in the light of the Players Association's right to protect its members, Murray Chass explores the consequences of violating the policy. A player testing positive for the first time is placed in a treatment program, but is subject to a series of fines and suspensions for failing to comply. From there, as Chass reports,

If a player tests positive a second time or subsequent times, he incurs a suspension or fine, ranging from 15 days or a maximum of $10,000 for the second time to one year or a maximum of $100,000 for the fifth positive test result.

A player who is convicted of steroid use in a legal proceeding faces a 15- to 30-day suspension or a maximum $10,000 fine for the first time, to a two-year suspension for a fourth offense.

If a player is convicted of selling or distributing steroids, he faces a 60- to 90-day suspension and a maximum $100,000 fine and a two-year suspension for a second offense.

Some writers have pointed to the recent outbursts by the likes of John Smoltz, Jeff Kent, and Turk Wendell as signs of a fissure in the union over this issue, but as Chass reminds us,

The number of players who have expressed views contrary to the agreement is about the same as those who offer contrary views during labor negotiations — a relative few.

The critics who have been quick to jump on those players' comments should keep them in perspective. Consider the number who have remained silent.

What's disappointing is that the writers reporting these allegations have no qualms about turning this into a witch hunt. The Miami Herald's Dan Le Batard writes:

This is how it is with the hysteria of witch hunts. The volume on the let's-get-'em bloodlust gets so loud it drowns out quieter things, like perspective. Medical studies? Logic? Proof? Oh, we'll get to that later, after the screaming. Or not.

There's an awful lot of ignorance being spewed about steroids these days. Sportswriters have become scientists and psychics, able to divine whether Barry Bonds cheats by looking at his biceps. We're not qualified for this, obviously, but what difference does that make? Larry Walker came to camp skinnier! Let's get him! Todd Helton came into camp heavier! Let's get him! (Angrily shake your pitchfork and torch here.)

...I don't know whether Bonds, Gary Sheffield or Jason Giambi is using steroids. And I certainly don't know how steroids help you hit a baseball (if they were a magic bean, wouldn't baseball be populated by Mr. Universe contestants?). I do know it isn't terribly fair these players are getting smeared by name as cheaters without due process even though this BALCO investigation includes far more athletes than just baseball's.

Without more facts -- remember those?-- I don't have the time or the energy to delve much further into the issue at this time. I will recommend Weisman's coverage of the issue, and John Perricone's as well. Both make some valid points about the need to keep an open mind and a wary eye when sifting through the news surrounding this issue. Keep that in mind the next time your local sportswriter tries to knock a player off of the pedestal he's spent so much time erecting for him.

Labels: steroids