The Futility Infielder

Apologies for the relative quietude of this site in recent weeks. I've become absorbed in another big project, doing some research for Will Carroll's upcoming and increasingly well-timed book on steroids, The Juice (not to be confused with Jose Canseco's tell-all Juiced, about which more momentarily).

As unappealing as I find the topic of steroids, I'm excited to read Will's book. He's shown himself to be the right man to tackle the topic, with well-placed sources all over the game, the knowledge and willingness to do the legwork to understand the makeup of the drugs, and somebody who's focused on getting to the heart of the story rather than passing moral judgements. He recently scored a major coup by procuring an interview with the inventor of THG, the previously undetectable steroid at the center of the BALCO scandal. Will provided me with a copy of the chapter concerning the interview, and let me just say that it's absolutely jaw-dropping, dynamite stuff. I wish I could tell you more than that, but for now you'll have to make do with the teasers he left via the link above.

Unless you're inclined to shoot Magglio Ordonez-sized fish in a Detroit Tiger barrel, it's been an otherwise slow week for baseball news. Between that bit of Will's book, my research piece, and the publicity and punditry surrounding Canseco's book, whose contents were detailed in Sunday's New York Daily News and have made their way to other news outlets, steroids have been everywhere I've looked lately.

The Canseco revelations are troubling on numerous levels. First off, this is a brazen cash grab by a broke, idiotic and amoral waste of protoplasm with zero job prospects. Canseco has nothing to lose by generating this firestorm; his dignity and self-respect are long gone, as are his chances at the Hall of Fame or any future employment in baseball. He's not looking for redemption, he's looking for notoriety and a payday. He could have just as easily joined the World Wrestling Federation for all of that, except that the likes of the Rock and "Stone Cold" Steve Austin have better sense than to keep company with his ilk.

It's disappointing to read Canseco's allegations that former Oakland teammates Mark McGwire and Jason Giambi injected each other in the bathroom stalls (insert Beavis and Butthead joke here) and that he himself personally injected Texas teammates Juan Gonzalez, Rafael Palmeiro, and Ivan Rodriguez as well. While it wouldn't be entirely surprising to find out that those players did use, the fact is that aside from Giambi's leaked testimony, we don't know the truth about any of them, and in the absence of documented urine tests any of them took during that period (ha!), we never will. Those players have little recourse other than blanket denials, and no chance to pursue a libel case against him, since they have no way to prove their innocence. It's all in the realm of he said/she said, and in this case at least one of the parties has plenty of rea$on$ to embellish what he's saying.

But what nauseates me most is to see Canseco's pride in making some grandiose claim of being Patient Zero, the Johnny AppleSyringe responsible for spreading steroids throughout the game. From the book's press release:

Canseco made himself a guinea pig of the performance-enhancing drugs that were only just beginning to infiltrate the American underground. Anabolic steroids, human growth hormones -- Canseco mixed, matched, and experimented to such a degree that he became known throughout the league as "The Chemist." He passed his knowledge on to trainers and fellow players, and before long, performance-enhancing drugs were running rampant throughout Major League Baseball.

Hip hip hooray! Huzzah for Jose! Now please get me a bucket so I can puke.

There was a short-lived time in the twilight of his career, starting with when he woke up and inexplicably found himself a New York Yankee due to some waiver-wire shenanigans, that I was able to muster a bit of sympathy for Canseco. I'd like to formally apologize to the English-speaking world for that mistake by telling Mr. Canseco to stick his 462 home runs and his weighty tome where the sun don't shine. Oh, I might read the damn thing, but you can be damn sure Canseco will never see a red cent of my money. Review copies are made for sketchy situations like this.

Ultimately, what's really distressing about all of this is that as lacking in credibility as Canseco is, some portion of what he's saying is likely true. His words, along with all of the BALCO stuff that will dog Barry Bonds as he pursues the home run marks of Babe Ruth and Hank Aaron, and the floating shitstorm that will follow Jason Giambi from city to city, will continue to cast a dark shadow on baseball for the foreseeable future. The players association and the commissioner may have taken increasingly drastic steps to rid the game of steroids, but as a topic of conversation, they're here to stay.

• • •

Like most other red-blooded Americans, I watched the Super Bowl last Sunday. Based almost entirely on the presence of Terrell Owens in the Eagles lineup, I found it quite easy to root for the Patriots. Actually, my allegiance to the Patriots goes back considerably further. As a kid I enjoyed the Steve Grogan/Sam "Bam" Cunningham years, and I got pretty jazzed about Drew Bledsoe and company back when I lived in Providence, Rhode Island, so I've been following that particular bandwagon for awhile, suffering through their two Super Bowl losses before getting the opporutnity to cheer as they've won three titles in the past four years (my "real" NFL rooting interest for the past 27 years being the hilariously inept Seattle Seahawks, with the occasionally accomplished Houston Oilers/Tennessee Titans a solid second).

Several have remarked on how this current Patriots dynasty bears some resemblence to the New York Yankees of the late '90s. I see it myself in the low-key, team-first demeanors of the two franchises' players. There are no Terrell Owenses on the Pats, nor were there any on those Yankees. Instead there's just a calmly focused expectation of winning without creating a circus sideshow of assclowns. Reader Andy Vogel has some views on a few more ways in which the two teams resemble each other. Worth a read.

Labels: steroids