The Futility Infielder

Last spring, during the contentious 9-11 hearings, National Security Advisor/Traitor to the Human Race Condoleezza Rice produced an outrageous spit-take moment while testifying before the Independent National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States. When asked to recall the title of a particular President's Daily Briefing memo, dated August 6, 2001, Rice casually remarked that that was called, "Bin Laden Determined to Attack Inside the United States."

In reviewing her testimony that evening, Daily Show host Jon Stewart dropped his sarcastic demeanor to show genuine outrage at Rice's admission of such a blatant red flag a mere six weeks before the cataclysmic events of September 11. "You're fucking kidding me, right?" shouted the irate Stewart, looking as if he were ready to throw a garbage can through a storefront window, "Please tell me you're fucking kidding me."

I had that kind of moment early Thursday morning as I read Murray Chass' piece in the New York Times about yesterday's Jason Giambi press conference. In a carefully scripted appearance, his first since the San Francisco Chronicle published his leaked grand jury testimony concerning BALCO, Giambi apologized to fans, media and teammates and the Yankee organization for the deceit he'd committed and the distraction he'd caused without actually using the word "steroids." Giambi's lack of candor and particularly the omission of that word was unsurprising; he has been instructed by the federal prosecutor in the investigation not to discuss the case, and must tiptoe around any direct admission -- beyond what was supposed to be sealed testimony -- of having used the illegal performance enhancers.

No, what was surprising was Chass' revelation that the Yankees complied with Giambi's request to remove all references to steroids from the contract they signed him to in December 2001:

General Manager Brian Cashman, in fact, said several times yesterday that the subject never came up three years ago when the Yankees were pursuing Giambi, a free-agent first baseman. But they had a strong clue that steroids played a part in Giambi's life.

A person with knowledge of the contract said that before they signed off on Giambi's seven-year, $120 million deal, the Yankees acquiesced to his request and removed all references to steroids from the guarantee language routinely included in contracts.

The Yankees were not innocents in this matter. They didn't say to themselves: Delete references to steroid use? Well, all right if you insist, but why would you want us to do that?

They wanted Giambi badly enough that they relinquished the right to suspend him or stop payment on the contract or terminate the contract or convert it into a nonguaranteed contract if he was found to use steroids. No other words were deleted from that paragraph of the contract, the person said.

That act alone made it difficult for the Yankees to try to void the contract after The San Francisco Chronicle reported Giambi's leaked testimony before a federal grand jury on Dec. 11, 2003.

You're fucking kidding me, right? Please tell me you're fucking kidding me.

There, in black and white, is why the Yanks have been unable to void the four years and $82 million left on Giambi's deal: they surrendered the right to do so under these circumstances when they signed him. They were so willing to look the other way that they altered the standard contract at his and/or his agent Arn Tellem's request. Absolutely, stupefyingly unbelievable.

Granted, this information came from an off-the-record source (very possibly Cashman himself), but right there is Exhibit A in the owners' complicity for this steroid quagmire. A superstar basically told a team he was using, and they still handed him one of the largest contracts of all time, even bending over backwards to protect him at their own expense.

According to Chass, Yankee CEO Lonn Trost, whose role it is to handle such guarantee language in contracts, declined to discuss Giambi's pact, but said, "We have probably the most extensive guarantee language in professional sports; it contains many, many things. There's nothing in that agreement that isn't redundant. It's dealt with to make sure we're protected. Even if it was modified, you can be sure it was covered elsewhere."

Chass -- not to mention the rest of the world -- finds this hard to swallow:

But if steroid use is covered elsewhere in the contract, the Yankees would have jumped at the chance to use the prohibition to terminate Giambi's contract and save themselves the $82 million they owe him over the next four years. They have had meetings with the commissioner's office, but no one has come up with a way out.

Giambi and Tellem were careful yesterday not to give the Yankees help, just in case they're still looking. Giambi did not admit to having used steroids, and he did not confirm The Chronicle report of his grand jury testimony.

So now you have it. Jason Giambi will be on the Yankee payroll for the duration of his contract whether or not he's able to perform, because the Yankees removed a particular safety net at his request. There will be no relief from MLB and no buyout, because they're stuck with him. After a winter when the team's profligate spending on the starting rotation prevented them from upgrading their offense, particularly by not pursuing Carlos Beltran to replace the wheezing Bernie Williams in centerfield, it's clear that they have painted themselves into a corner. They created this mess of an aging, expensive, inflexible roster, and they deserve to suffer its consequences, now more than ever.

• • •

Speaking of the Yankees and Exhibit A, yesterday's papers provided ample evidence of why Tino Martinez has been hailed as such a valuable locker room commodity over the years. The guy must have returned to the Bronx with a pack of Marlboros and a ten-foot hose, because he clearly came prepared to blow smoke up Giambi's ass.

In yesterday morning's Daily News, Martinez was unequivocal in his support of Giambi, which in and of itself isn't a bad thing. But this line buried in his stock appreciation for his new teammate looks a bit silly: "...The thing about it is, because of all the controversy, people don't really realize he's a great guy off the field and in the clubhouse as well..."

Now refresh my memory: what clubhouses have Tino and Giambi shared? If I recall, Giambi was signed to replace Martinez, and the two have never been teammates before. This must be exactly the kind of earnest, gung-ho shinola that they brought Tino back for in the first place. It's not entirely unwelcome, given the bleak circumstances, but he really could work on the subtlety of his message.

Labels: steroids