Bonds and Clemens Belong in the Hall

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It seems that every year I end up writing a post opining the  "sanctimonious nonsense" of Hall of Fame voters regarding their personal hangups over voting for suspected steroid users:

It's ridiculous. I don't need baseball writers to teach me about morality, thanks all the same. I want to see the best of the era in the Hall of Fame, and if that includes PED users (and it most certainly does), so be it. Why should some players get the benefit of the doubt, while some get tainted by the brush of their peers?

This year we saw a little movement in the vote totals for players like Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens, not to mention the actual election of one Mike Piazza. Rumors of steroid use have followed Piazza for years - and most people within the sport are reasonably convinced those whispers are true.

Steroids or none, Mike Piazza was one of the greatest offensive catchers in the history of the game, and he deserves his plaque in Cooperstown. But you know who else deserves to be enshrined in those hallowed halls? The best pure hitter of a generation, Barry Bonds, and the Rocket himself, Roger Clemens (both of whom were enjoying Hall of Fame worthy careers before they allegedly began dabbling in artificial enhancement).

There's no way for any of us to truly know who was clean and who was using; some estimates bandied about in the baseball industry guesstimate that up to 70% of players between 1990 and 2005 used performance enhancing drugs at some point. Even if the real number is much lower, who are we to make the judgment call about who was clean, and thus deserving of admiration, and who was dirty, and deserves to be ignored or scorned?

Baseball in the era of free agency is completely transformed from the pastoral game that once took up lazy afternoons across the country. The season is longer, the money has exploded, and with that there have been advancements enjoyed by today's players that those of yesteryear couldn't conceive of.

It's perfectly legal (and really, expected) for players to employ personal trainers and chefs, to get lasik eye or Tommy John surgery, and to generally take advantage of every modern edge they can to mold their bodies into the best possible tools to win. Decades ago, players drank and caroused all season, then spent the offseason working another job, because baseball didn't pay the average player enough to live off year round.

Why are some modern enhancements encouraged and others shunned as despicable cheating? Who does this line in the sand benefit? Anyone interested enough in baseball to visit the Hall of Fame already knows that Bonds, Clemens, Piazza, et al are suspected steroid users, but if it makes you feel better, we could demarcate every plaque between 1990 and 2005 with an asterisk denoting the era they played in, and the suspicions that accompany that.

Mike Piazza will enter the Hall of Fame in a few short months. Personally, I'm hoping that Bonds and Clemens eventually follow suit. You can scream about the sanctity of the Hall all you want, but so long as it includes avowed racists, drunks, and misogynists, that argument is absurd.

The Hall of Fame has never been the Hall of Saints. It's a place meant for the best of the best from every part baseball's illustrious (though sometimes shameful) history. If you don't think Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens fit that bill, I don't know what to tell you.

Innocence Lost

The award for least surprising news of the decade (thus far), goes to one Mark David McGwire, for finally admitting that he used steroids during his career, including during his record-breaking 1998 season.

This home run brought to you by the wonderful world of chemistry!

McGwire released a statement earlier today, and it included all of the usual components: apologies, contriteness, and the qualificaton that "I thought they would help me heal and prevent injuries, too."

Oh, Mark. Well, at least it's all out in the open, now... even though we've all known as much for the last ten years. I don't know about the rest of you, but I was eight years old in 1998, and I was as aware of the home run race as anybody else: one of my teachers told us that Sammy Sosa was clean, and that McGwire was on steroids, so the consensus in my third-grade class was support for Sosa. Now, of course, we know that neither man was clean, and that the true single-season home run king is Roger Maris, despite the fact that his record of 61 has been "broken" six times, by Sosa (3), McGwire (2), and Barry Bonds (1).

The most stirring sentiment in McGwire's release was the following:

"I wish I had never touched steroids. It was foolish and it was a mistake. I truly apologize. Looking back, I wish I had never played during the steroid era."

I bet that's a wish that countless men share: how many current and former major leaguers live with the dread that they will be the next name published, their name forever tarnished because of one stupid mistake? In 1998, baseball was still struggling to regain its fanbase after the debacle in 1994 when the World Series was canceled, and along came this pair of sluggers in a race to reach one of baseball's most exciting records. Why on earth would the commissioner delve too deeply into such a boon for attendance and television ratings? Let's not pretend that most of us would have acted differently: perhaps we would have done something before things got so out of control; perhaps not.

McGwire then toes the official line in claiming that the game is totally clean now:

"Baseball is really different now - it's been cleaned up. The commissioner and the players' association implemented testing and they cracked down, and I'm glad they did."

Let's not fool ourselves: there are players out there beating the system right now, with the use of HGH (which has no accurate testing procedure). However, the days of rampant and open clubhouse drug use (Hello, late-90's Texas Rangers!) are over, and good riddance. Unfortunately, the game isn't out of the woods yet - that will only happen when the last user retires from the game completely, which isn't exactly in the cards for the next forty years or so. And until then? Well, I plan to be a fan of the game as always... but a little less innocent than I was way back in 1998.

[Almost] Spring Training and the "Steroid Era"

Kevin Youkilis and Jon Lester have already reported to Fort Meyers for Red Sox Spring Training.  Did I mention I love these guys?  In other spring-related news, it was warm enough in Connecticut this morning to wear shorts to the gym.  There's the proof: the snow will melt, the grass will grow, and there will be baseball again.

Thursday can't come soon enough; I'm really tired of this whole "off-season" thing.  I mean, does any really care where Manny ends up anymore?  I mean, as long as he's far, far away from Fenway Park, it's alright with me, and all signs point to the Dodgers, or possibly the Giants [although I have learned never to count the Yankees out].

In other news, no one is surprised that Alex Rodriguez allegedly failed a steroids test in 2003.  Mazz has a good piece about it in the Globe today: at this point, we can only guess who else is on that list.  Would anyone be blindsided if it came out Nomar was using while in Boston?  We already know about Mo Vaughn and Eric Gagne.  Who else could be on the list?  Jason Varitek is looking smaller these days, though the official explanation is that he never regained his weight after an illness early last season.  

The point is, the time to point fingers and gloat has passed [OK, maybe we can gloat a little].  Until the other 103 names on that list with A-rod are released, I for one will be operating under the assumption that at least one of my childhood heroes was a juicer.  The sad truth of it is that more players than we would like to believe were artificially enhanced, and that the most famous among them never needed to use.  Roger Clemens would have been a shoe-in for the hall before he ever met Brian McNamee.  Barry Bonds was one hell of a player, and would have been remembered fondly if he had never heard of BALCO.  And A-rod is a natural.  As much as it pains me to say it, Alex Rodriguez might be one of the most athletically gifted ballplayers of his generation.  However, once you get linked with steroids, your legacy is forever tainted [just ask Mark McGwire's brother].

Hopefully baseball can recover from this [although, if more people boycott, I might actually be able to get tickets].  But the "Steroid Era" is not over.  It won't be over until every last player who used has retired.  And A-rod still has nine years with New York.