Early in Ken Caminiti’s so-called bombshell confession about steroids, he states, “It’s no secret what’s going on in baseball.” He can say that again, even if certain lodge brothers prefer to hear no evil and pretend to see no evil.
To take nothing away from a comprehensive and airtight report by Sports Illustrated, Caminiti’s revelations belong in the same file as would a news bulletin that some major-league players cheat on their wives. That also exists; just don’t be the one who tries to pin the tail on the donkey.
Tom Boswell of the Washington Post wrote years ago about Jose Canseco’s alleged use of performance-enhancing drugs, and Canseco flew over the cuckoo’s nest in anger. Now we know why. He wanted to save it all for his book. Perhaps, in his epic, Canseco also can explain why so many football players and professional wrestlers die so young.
Generally, when a member of the jock fraternity, active or retired, violates the code of silence, his peers want to strangle him. The fact that Caminiti’s tale from the underground has elicited few reprimands from the boys of summer tells you all you need to know. Or it confirms everything you suspected.
This is the sidebar to the main story, annoying as it is amusing–the implication that the public is stupid and unaware of breaches in the “integrity” of the game and its hallowed records. Just because we pay to watch checked swings produce home runs doesn’t mean we believe everything is legitimate. We go to science-fiction films too.
The power surge isn’t all because of improved locker-room chemistry. Not long ago, an independent study–and I emphasize independent–found that baseballs are much livelier than they once were and can travel 70 feet farther than balls two decades ago. Of course, an investigation authorized by the major leagues disputed the data.
Bud Selig, the beleaguered commissioner, is splitting the difference. He has stated vehemently that the balls aren’t juiced, but he now admits some players are, and he says he’s worried about it and has been for several years. Naturally, this will be another in a list of subjects the owners haven’t got a prayer of getting through the union before the next strike.
Within this circle of deceit there is also the inference that management cares about whether players are hooked on steroids. If the owners really cared about the sport’s integrity, they would threaten a lockout unless labor consented to drug testing. Except everybody knows that home-run fever helped resurrect baseball after its last work stoppage. Show me an owner who wants clean singles over dirty dingers and I’ll show you a bad businessman.
Frank Thomas, the White Sox’s slugger, says he’s all for drawing blood. He also thinks owners and players should agree on a deal because America needs the diversion. This is noble stuff from Thomas, who is clearly cognizant of the jittery national mood after 9/11. Our rebuttal: If we depend on the fractured industry of baseball to forget 9/11, we are in a heap of trouble.
The hunch here is that fans are catching on to baseball. As attendance figures indicate, the public is investing less money in baseball lately, and probably less emotion. Fans already know baseball doesn’t care about them, so why should fans care about baseball, whether the players are on steroids or on strike? We can save baseball a lot of posturing by simply speaking the truth. It doesn’t matter, fellas.
Healing after the terrorists’ attacks is not the answer, anyway. We should never forget 9/11. We can forget baseball, however, and won’t need drugs to do so.
