Bringing the past into the present, creating the ties and relationships that only Marty McFly could experience, was always the greatest part of baseball. Achievements were cemented in decades, battered by wars and economic slumps, surviving our lineage and allowing comparison between the generations. These numbers created epics. Babe Ruth has a heartier following than Barack Obama; Cy Young’s name will live on long after David Petraeus passes; Willie Mays and Hank Aaron will inspire more than the Jonas Brothers ever could.
As a child, I was one of those in awe of the numbers. I remember lying in bed, paging through my book of “100 Greatest Baseball Moments,” soaking up the grainy images of a time long past. My history teachers could not reach me in the way that these recountings could. I imagined where the current teams, rife with power, met their previous counterparts, and smiled with the knowledge that we could measure time based on wins, losses, and everything in between.
This makes what Alex Rodriguez did inescapable. As much as I hate to say it, I was cheering for Rodriguez to continue his trek to 762 home runs. He would be the savior that reconnected the passage severed by steroids. His talents were natural. His monetary greed was unfortunate, but his achievements, fashioned during an era of uncertainty, could at least be held to a higher standard.
Perhaps I was naïve. Perhaps I refused to give up the slice of childhood belief that lingered when I watched baseball, keeping me steadfastly convinced that one day Rodriguez would wipe the slate of Bonds’ stain. Perhaps I had too much faith in the goodness of an era, the belief that someone other than Ken Griffey Jr. was also clean.
But after last Saturday, any faith I harbored is gone, replaced by callousness and sorrow. We can never see how far we’ve come. We had already given up on the realities of McGwire, Bonds, and Clemens, resigned to the fact that their careers were embroiled in shadows and sideways glances. Alex Rodriguez now joins this unholy bunch, creating a Mt. Rushmore of malfeasance.
I can only hope that, someday, this mountain of deceit crumbles in the same shocking manner that baseball’s history has. Until then, though, the burns will remain. And my faith in my sport — our sport, America’s sport — will be no more.
Article comments
1 - Tony
The thing is I'm not sure if people really did like A-Rod before this came out, especially more then Clemens. Sure Roger had the bat throwing incident but generally most fans supported him I think, and the media definitely loved him.
A-Rod on the other hand was always thought to be kind of a fraud by most. Seattle fans hated him for leaving, Texas fans hated him because the team was terrible when he was there, and Yankee fans hated because he choked constantly.
Canseco brought up A-Rod's name a long time ago, when Alex then went on 60 Minutes and lied through his teeth. Then the Torre book comes out and rips him really bad. I mean even that jealously of Jeter most likely stems from his inability to understand why everyone loves Jeter when he's the one who pumps 50 home runs a year.
Either way, great article. This whole thing was really terrible for baseball, any way you look at it. And no matter how much people did or did not like him, it definitely was a shock to have it all explode like this.
2 - zingzing
funny how when it comes to physical performance, we cringe at the thought of drug use, but when it comes to creativity, we celebrate it.
what if we doubted lou reed because he took drugs. the beatles? the stones?
francis ford coppola? jack nickelson? the beats? andy warhol?
i know there is a difference between physical and mental performance, and there is a difference between the effects of steroids and narcotics, but still...
these are drugs like any other, and they do nothing but heighten something already there. i certainly couldn't take steroids and suddenly hit 70 homers. i couldn't hit one.
i'm not excusing anyone, but i'd like to point out that if these people bring their work to the level of art, then drugs that enhance the expression of that art doesn't negate the fact that it happened at all. they still did all these things. who cares if they were... unnaturally advantaged? these things happened.
bonds used science and training (and mostly training) to hit those 73 homers. or whatever. he took full advantage of human knowledge to make it happen. and it will probably shorten his life. he made a sacrifice.
the day when dylan introduced the beatles to marijuana, even though they had already been taking massive amounts of speed at that point, is celebrated. the day some dentist slipped lennon and harrison acid is another breakthrough. every drug took their art to different, maybe better, places. and then lennon found heroin, and it changed again. these things are noted and discussed, but they don't negate the accomplishments of those involved.
i, like you, totally realize the shortcomings of this argument. it's not even logical. just something to think about.
maybe baseball should be above these things. maybe it never will be again.
3 - El Bicho
I don't see how after Canseco's book, the congressional hearings, and the issues with Giambi, Bonds, Clemens, Petit, et al how the revelation that any superstar in the league is juiced can create shock in anyone at this point.
Unfortunately, there's two types of people involved with baseball. Those who love the game and those who love to make money off the game. They should have told you after you found out about Santa.
4 - El Bicho
Interesting thought, but apples and oranges. When an artist takes a drug, who is cheated by his work? When a baseball player takes a drug, it affects everyone who has played the game because the numbers matter.