Major league baseball. Yawn. Steroids. Zzzz. Roger Clemens. Enough already, you’re going to put me in a coma. I swear, only MLB could spend millions of dollars on a no-brainer story and then proceed to torment its fan-base indefinitely with the subsequent deluge of shock, outrage and inaction. You mean those nice, wholesome boys of summer juiced up? No way! Even Roger Clemens? Heavens to Betsy! I always thought it was perfectly normal for players to peak in their late 30s and early 40s. Please.
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But what really kills me are those who come to the Rocket’s defense by disregarding his accuser as an unsavory character with a checkered past. Umm, last I checked most mob informants aren’t choirboys either. And I think everyone agrees that Jose Canseco is a slimy weasel, but that sure didn’t stop him from becoming this story’s beacon of truth.
Get over it, people. Many of today’s ballplayers are no different than high-ranking politicians: They reached great heights by compromising a little (or a lot) of their integrity along the way. The best thing that can be done at this point is for MLB to admit it dropped the ball twenty years ago when ‘roids first came into the picture, and do its best from this point forward to place the lid back on Pandora’s Box. That means third party testing, and holding on to urine/blood samples so they can be retroactively tested periodically when better methods surface.
Of course, knowing Bud Selig and company, I’m sure we’ll instead get more hand-wringing and a Barry Bonds-sized boatload of empty promises.
Wake me when it’s over. - Jason Friedman