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“Did you hear about Manny?”
The question lingered in the air as I thought of all the possibilities. I
hadn’t heard, but with Manny Ramirez’ past the possibilities seemed
humorously endless. This, after all, was the same man who made trips inside
the Green Monster at Fenway during breaks in play to answer nature’s call,
the same Manny who left millions of dollars in uncashed paychecks scattered
around his locker. What could he have done this time to top his prior
escapades? Take a five foot bong into the outfield and use it during
pitching changes? Then again, would anyone notice a cloud of smoke in left
field or would they assume its just LA smog?
Then the news was broken to
me. Manny Ramirez, one of the best hitters of his generation and heretofore
exceedingly likely future Hall of Fame inductee, had been suspended for
testing positive for steroids. My response was not one of shock nor outrage
but rather righteous, vindicated though muffled glee. I didn’t care enough
for it to make my day, but the news certainly brightened my morning, as did
discovering during my ensuing internet research that Manny had been busted
for taking women’s fertility drugs (commonly used in as part of the steroid
cycle to restart testosterone production).
I am a Giants fan and a
Barry Bonds fan (for Giants fans of my generation, the two usually go hand
in hand). For years Barry Bonds and his alleged steroid use was hung as a
millstone around Giants fans’ collective necks. “Steeeeerrroooiiidss!” How
could we support such a cheat? “73*” How could we stand and cheer as he
impugned the integrity of the game? “756*” How could we embrace him as he
made a mockery of the most hallowed numbers, the most hallowed records, in
sports? In the eyes of fans in LA, Boston, New York, and elsewhere, we were
all accomplices to the greatest crime in modern sports. We were as guilty as
Bonds.
Bonds had somehow become
the unwitting lightning rod of what is referred to as the Steroid Era (which
is a misnomer resulting from the baseball world’s continual head-in-the-sand
stance on performance enhancing drugs). He and he alone among active players
was made to wear an invisible scarlet S at all times. This was preposterous
as even by the most salacious accusations Bonds started using steroids
around the turn of the millennium, a decade after the first admitted steroid
aided MVP in baseball, at least three decades after steroid use became
prevalent in the NFL, and 45 years after anabolic steroids began to be used
in the Olympics.
Yet in the eyes of the
public, the wasteful and vindictive District Attorney’s office [not to be
confused with the individuals themselves, they’re the best, I love each and
every one of them, and the cops; please don’t shoot me the next time I
jaywalk], and the willfully ignorant commissioner and baseball consigliari
the only bad guy was Bonds. Sure Mark Mcgwire and Sammy Sosa had rewritten
the home run record books and misled Congress, but Mcgwire was retired and
Sosa had been affable for much of his career. Sure Rafael Palmiero put up
Hall of Fame numbers and had brazenly outright lied to Congress and tested
positive for steroids, but he had a better rapport with the media (the
racial angle isn’t something I care to delve into here). Others admitted to
steroid use but were quickly absolved for their honesty despite the sudden
heartfelt vague confessions to minimal and sometimes accidental use of
something that may or may not have been a steroid always came after being
publicly outed as a user. Giambi, Pettitte, Clemens, Tejada, etc. The list
goes on and on (and no, it’s not just the AL East).
Yet Bonds was given the
blame. When the Giants would play in San Diego he would be greeted with
syringes raining down upon him (none of this was discouraged by the Padres
organization, which was so Bonds obsessed they built their new stadium to be
Bonds-proof and in the process alienated their own power hitters who could
no longer so much as reach the warning track with regularity). In LA the
fans spent more time booing Bonds than watching the game (and LA fans’
game-watching time was already squeezed by their need to show up for only
the middle 3 innings, missing the beginning and end but making an appearance
and “beating” traffic despite half the stadium leaving at the same time).
The venom flowed everywhere, especially in the bigger markets as their media
played up the Bonds as baseball Satan angle. WWF villains didn’t get the
open hostility that Bonds received. Watching Bonds step into an enemy
batting box was the sports equivalent of witnessing Osama get on the New
York City subway. Watching Bonds unfairly singled out brought Giants fans
even closer to him. He may have been a jerk, he may have even been a cheat,
but he was our jerk and we wanted others to back off. Instead we were lumped
in with Bonds as peripherals to the great evil, Sauron’s minions. Bonds was
the mythical ring and if only he were destroyed, the game would be saved and
all would be well.
[And destroyed he was. With
the exception of making occasional appearances at Giants games, Bonds is
being completely ostracized by baseball. Worse, the owners are colluding to
keep him out of the game, a major violation of Major League Baseball’s
collective bargaining agreement (and one that it has been convicted of
breaking before), a charge that the MLB players association claims it can
prove but is waiting for Bonds’ legal issues to be resolved before pressing
their case. His last remaining years of being able to do what he loves and
what he is good at are being taken from him while numerous others who have
actually been caught (at this point there is a lot of evidence against Bonds
but he hasn’t actually failed any drug tests nor has anyone offered any
proof of witnessing Bonds knowingly taking steroids) are allowed to play and
make millions of dollars.]
Then came news of Manny and
Alex Rodriguez, and suddenly there were shards of glass houses raining down
upon rock throwing fan bases coast to coast. Seattle, Cleveland, Texas,
Boston, Los Angeles, and New York now had to face the reality that they
spent years cheering for an MVP level player who was cheating. These fan
bases had all known that others who wore their colors had used steroids, but
they were lesser names or past their primes when the news came out. But now
fond memories were sullied and realities shattered.
Alex Rodriguez, it turns
out, has been taking steroids since high school. His use has gotten so out
of hand that it’s reportedly an open secret in the New York Yankee locker
room and the cause for his teammates bestowing upon him the nickname “bitch
tits” in reference to Rodriguez’ unusual pectoral growth as a likely result
of chemical intervention. Rodriguez won an MVP in Texas, but Ranger fans can
no longer look at that accomplishment with any pride. He was a part of the
1995 Mariners that made the playoffs, beat the Yankees, and saved baseball
in Seattle. He was a major part of their playoff teams in 1997 and 2000.
Those memories are sullied for struggling Seattle sports fans. He won two
more MVPs with New York and led the Yankees to four playoff appearances in
his five seasons with the team. New Yorkers overlooked the steroid use of
hired gun Clemens, homely Pettitte, and declining Giambi by arguing that
their very best players were clean, that Rodriguez was the white night
riding in to save baseball’s record books from Bonds. Now Bitch Tits is a
career cheat and theirs for another decade at the low, low price of only a
quarter billion dollars!
[Side note: finally,
Rodriguez provides affirmation of my theory about how ridiculous it is to
assume that a player uses steroids only if they bulked up while in the
majors. Nothing prevents a player from using steroids to get to the big
leagues. And yet, somehow being a physically imposing power hitter from day
1 in the majors somehow seems to make a player exempt from scrutiny. I’m
looking at you, Albert Pujols.]
Best of all is the damage
Manny has inflicted. Dodger fans now know that their playoff run last season
and this season’s newfound status as a championship contender is built on a
foundation of steroid enhanced hitting power. Steeeeerrroooiiidss! Poor
Cleveland fans now have to live with knowing that the Tribe’s run in the
late 90s when Manny helped them get to five consecutive postseason
appearances and two World Series appearances (after having a grand total of
3 playoff berths, all into the World Series, in their first 94 years of
existence) is tainted. But the most damage from Manny being Manny is to the
psyche of the entire New England area. The same fans who hungered for just
one World Series championship before they died for their beloved Red Sox and
then turned into their egomaniacal winning-is-our-birthright fans as their
hated rival fan base in New York now awake to a new reality. Not only is
their 2007 championship tainted, but so is their beloved 2004 championship.
Both teams were filled with guys likely to be taking steroids – unless one
believes that David Ortiz went from being a no power designated hitter cut
by the Twins to a top 5 in the MVP voting slugger overnight by joining
Boston on his own – but now arguably their best player has been confirmed as
a cheater. The team that New Englanders expected to be happily telling their
grandkids about is now the team that they’ll struggle to explain to those
grandkids. Suddenly, Barry Bonds is just another user. Suddenly, Giants fans
were just ahead of our time. Suddenly, more and more fan bases are finally
starting to deal with the fact that their best and most beloved players and
teams were likely taking steroids. Suddenly, the tainted number is not 73*,
756*, nor 762*. It’s 2004*.
Welcome to the dark side,
fellow baseball fans. Welcome to the gray area in which most people have to
live. And lest you forget: 2004*.
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