Pubdate: Sat, 02 Jun 2007 Source: Arizona Republic (Phoenix, AZ) Copyright: 2007 The Arizona Republic Contact: http://www.arizonarepublic.com/ Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/24 Author: Dan Bickley, The Arizona Republic Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/hallucinogens.htm (Hallucinogens) Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/meth.htm (Methamphetamine) HALLOWED GAME NOT SO PRISTINE Back in the golden age of baseball, a time that existed mostly between my ears, I marveled at how Pete Rose ran to first base after a walk. Now I wonder if it was the amphetamines that made Charlie Hustle, the drugs he admitted taking during a career played well above the speed limit. Welcome to the icky, sticky era of enlightenment in Major League Baseball, where skeletons are flying out of closets, truths are leaking out of syringes and a married baseball player and his female companion just got outed on the cover of a New York newspaper. And in this wrecking-ball reality, the weirdest thing has happened on the field of dreams inside my head: I have lost my indignation for Barry Bonds. Oh, I still consider 756 a spiritual number, and unlike cretins who wish him injured, I merely request that when Bonds reaches home run No. 754, any ball he hits thereafter goes unheeded by the defense. Let it roll, let it sit, don't touch it. This would make Bonds' two milestone home runs - the tying and breaking of Hank Aaron's record - come on two inside-the-park jobs. Strutting Barry would have to leg them out. Perfect, no? But it's the bigger picture that matters, and after all these years, it is becoming clear that baseball has long been a beautiful, dirty game fueled by drugs, played by cheaters and run by people who care only about money. The record book already is shamefully diluted, its pages tilted by dead ball eras, raised mounds and countless other vagaries. Home-field advantage in the World Series now is determined by the All-Star Game, and since the advent of interleague play, a batter can hit a home run against an American League pitcher in an American League park and have it count in National League statistics. This is sacred? Jason Giambi (reportedly) and the late Ken Caminiti admitted using steroids, although neither felt compelled to return his MVP trophy. Sammy Sosa still holds the record for most home runs in a month (20!), even if the more he grew, the less English he knew. Who knows if any of the 1986 Mets snorted a line before a game the way the 2004 Red Sox did shots of whiskey, or if Babe Ruth really broke the law by drinking during Prohibition. But, mercy, can you imagine what Dock Ellis saw the day he threw a no-hitter while tripping on LSD? The shady, staining behavior has been in the game forever, long before Bonds and the coffee pots labeled "Leaded" and "Unleaded." Although a select group of high-profile hitters have shouldered much of the purists' outrage, countless pitchers surely added miles per hour to their fastball with performance-enhancing drugs. And the current conspiracy of silence that started that shameful day on Capitol Hill and continues through George Mitchell's investigation proves just how big this problem is and was. Yet Bonds has been vilified because he usually is an unaccommodating jerk and because he's chasing a magic number. This has increased racial tensions because, when Black people see a Black athlete persecuted while men of equal guilt and different color are not, they instinctively and understandably smell trouble. And it sends a ridiculous message to everyone. Like, it's OK to use drugs if (a) you're not very good; (b) you give a half-baked apology, like Giambi; or (c) you don't threaten hallowed records. I have seen enough. I am turning in my hypocrisy card, and here is why: The record book is not the Holy Grail. It never has been. It is romantic only to a select few generations of baseball fans who attach outrageous symbolism and meaning to this sport because it once bonded our fathers to their fathers to their fathers . . . because it represents the best of our childhoods and a country that no longer exists. But the game never has been as good or as pure as our fantasies, and this sport long ago severed the precious generational link with labor strikes and World Series games that go past midnight. Just ask the kids in the audience, the ones who hold little contempt for Bonds because the record book doesn't mean squat to them, because baseball doesn't go that deep any more. Still, my epiphany regarding Bonds occurred just the other day, when during an interview with USA Today, Giambi encouraged everyone in baseball to stand up like men and apologize for what they have done to the game. Then he got hauled into the commissioner's office, where they would have removed his vocal chords, if possible. Which tells me that baseball does not want honesty, full disclosure or the whole truth. They want to skate through the Steroids Era with our focus solely on Bonds, who couldn't be a more perfect villain. They want to pin this whole thing on him when this always has been a we problem. So, I am no longer inflating the meaning of a single number or the sanctity of baseball's record books. I am merely a calloused yet interested observer. And when Bonds breaks the record, I'll bow my head in shame, and hope the embarrassment is universal. - --- MAP posted-by: Richard Lake