BrokenCowboy: Sports Views with a West Coast Bias

Bonds Passes Aaron; World Survives

And so it has come to pass. Barry Bonds has finally hit his 756th home run and taken his place (like it or not) at the head of a long and illustrious line of home run hitters. We've seen this coming for the past two or three years, but the soundtrack of Barry's march towards destiny has been driven by a steady drumbeat of hand-wringing and head-scratching.

Without question, the major league home run mark is the most hallowed record in all of sports. And so, the cynics say, how can we stomach the idea of a man like Barry Bonds standing atop that mountain? Can we applaud a man who is by all accounts a jerk and by most accounts a cheater?

Additionally, there are those who mourn for the man Bonds is surpassing. Hank Aaron, they say, is a more deserving record holder. The president of this club is baseball's commissioner, Bud Selig. Selig showed up in San Diego for the tying home run, but did so with a teenager's attitude: "you can make me go, but you can't make me like it." He couldn't even bring himself to applaud, nor could he make the trip up the coast to San Francisco for #756. (For the record, Aaron has always been one of my favorite players; some might remember a debate I had with noted Bonds defender John Perricone of Only Baseball Matters. We argued about who was the greatest hitter of all time, and I chose Aaron.)

In many ways this story comes down to Bonds vs Aaron, as if a choice must be made. What happened on Tuesday night did nothing to diminish Aaron, though some would have us believe otherwise. If only there weren't any of those external factors getting in the way. If only things were simple the way they were back in 1974. Here's what SI's Tom Verducci wrote recently in anticipation of 756:

The home run record isn't supposed to be this complicated. Even when Barry Bonds holds the record, Hank Aaron can still be the people's home run king -- and 755 can still be the number in which we believe.

That sounds nice, but things were still pretty complicated for Aaron. In addition to the death threats and hate mail, Aaron had to listen as detractors claimed he simply wasn't as good as Babe Ruth, regardless of what color he was or how many home runs he had hit.

But this is what we do. We romanticize the past to the point that the present can't possibly compete. The sun used to shine brighter, music used to mean something, and our baseball players used to be as pure as the driven snow.

It's probably too much to ask for people just to appreciate the record for what it is, so instead I'll just look forward to 2014 when Alex Rodriguez hits #779 and fans look back at the good old days of 2007.

Hypocrisy Now

Earlier this summer I wrote about the hypocrisy involved with the mainstream media's coverage (and persecution) of athletes suspected of using performance enhancing drugs. Specifically, I mentioned the fact that Lance Armstrong has been elevated to sainthood while there's just as much circumstantial and real evidence implicating him as there as for Barry Bonds. Well, Armstrong's chickens might be coming home to roost. According to Sports Illustrated's E.M. Swift, Lance is under fire again -- and something just might stick this time.

Burning Down the House

So what are we to conclude from the Floyd Landis doping scandal? Quite a few things, if you ask me. I know nothing about testosterone levels (and even less about testosterone ratios), and I have absolutely no idea whether or not Landis is guilty, but that’s not even the biggest part of the story.

As if often the case in sports, the most interesting aspect of this controversy is the public’s perception as shaped by the media’s reaction. Instantly, Landis has been tossed into the clink with all the rest of the sports cheats, only days after he had been hailed as the heir to Sir Lancelot’s throne. (Ironically, he might be the heir in more ways than one, but more on that later.)

When Paul Simon sang wistfully about Joe DiMaggio forty years ago, he was making a statement about a generation’s loss of innocence, but that was nothing compared to what’s happened over the past five to ten years. We’ve arrived at a point where every superior athlete and every superlative performance immediately comes under question. In the last few months things have gotten a bit out of hand as the sports feeling the most heat (baseball, cycling, and track) have taken some serious hits.

Several of the top riders in the world were disqualified from competing in the Tour de France only days before the tour got underway, and just when Landis looked to have saved the sport and its marquee event with his miraculous late-stage comeback and eventual victory, news of his positive test diminished the tour and confirmed what most casual fans already thought about cycling. A bunch of guys on EPO who aren’t named Lance.

Two weeks ago Olympic gold medalist and world’s fastest man Justin Gatlin found himself fielding questions about a positive test (too much testosterone, just like Landis), and his answers weren’t too impressive. His presumed guilt spread to others in the sport, as several sprinters (most notably Sydney’s golden girl, Marion Jones) were banned from European meets based on their association with Gatlin’s coach.

Just this weekend, news broke that Mark McGwire refused to sit down with George Mitchell, baseball’s steroid bulldog, to discuss drug use in the game. If he wouldn’t talk, isn’t that enough to make him guilty?

Don’t get me wrong, here. I’m no longer naïve enough to think that these athletes are all clean. What’s interesting is how quickly they’re determined to be guilty and how shocked everyone seems to be as each new domino falls.

What’s most appalling is the media’s self-righteous attitude towards the athletes in question. Take Barry Bonds, for example. Right now his picture’s at the top of the wanted poster in major league baseball’s post office, but only two years ago his face was being carved on Mt. Rushmore. Even as he was piling up statistics at an unprecedented rate and rewriting every significant offensive record in the 120-year history of the game, no reporter bothered to question what was happening, just as no one said a word five years earlier when Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa were saving the game with their two-man chase of Roger Maris.

So what happened between then and now to demote Bonds from the brink of immortality to his current status as pariah? How did three surefire Hall of Famers (McGwire, Sosa, and Rafael Palmeiro) find themselves tossed aside like letters from an old girlfriend long after the crush has soured? Why does the media and the public turn so quickly on these fallen athletes?

It’s simple -- we turn away because we don’t like what these men and women reveal about ourselves. We can’t bring ourselves to admit that collectively we are the Frankenstein that has created the monster, so instead we grab a torch and join the mob, screaming indignantly all the way.

Really, how could we possibly expect that all these athletes would be clean? I’m not the first to imagine this scenario, but I think it helps to illuminate what’s going on. Let’s say you take twenty of the best race car drivers in the world and set them up for a road rally. The pre-race instructions go like this: “Gentlemen (and Danica), you’re going to race from Los Angeles to San Francisco along Interstate 5. The federal speed limit on this stretch of highway is 75 mph, and even though we won’t monitor your speed and there will be no policemen along the way and all we really want is for you to get there as fast as possible, we hope that you don’t exceed the posted speed limit. And by the way, those racers who get there the fastest will be richly compensated with higher salaries, more product endorsements, and greater fame.”

The shocker would be if any of the drivers drove below the speed limit. And while that seems extreme, we have essentially the same situation with professional sports. We ask our athletes to do whatever it takes to reach the top of their professions, beginning earlier and earlier all the time.

Our entire culture, and I’m not just talking about what goes on between the lines, revolves around the American Dream, an ideal which reminds us that in this land of opportunity, we have a responsibility to do whatever it takes to reach our goals. When this tenet bleeds into the athletic world, it might start to blur a bit, but the spirit remains the same.

There are parents holding five-year-old boys back from kindergarten, solely for the athletic advantage the extra year will give them; children in middle school are guzzling protein drinks with each meal to bulk up for possible football careers; high school pitchers are having Tommy John surgery not just to repair elbows but to strengthen them; and athletes of all ages are allowing laser beams to crisscross their corneas in the name of better than perfect vision.

Athletes have always -- always -- done anything possible to gain any advantage available. As John Perricone correctly reminds us, we know that the greats from the first golden age set many of their records while buzzing on amphetamines, so why should we be surprized that some in this current golden age have had some help as well? We shouldn’t, but somehow we are.

Another puzzling aspect of the Landis Affair is the question of how the public responds. When caught in the steroid trap, people respond in different ways and get different results.

When Jason Giambi’s grand jury testimony was leaked a year and a half ago and his steroid skeletons were revealed to the world, many thought his career would be over, but New York fans swallowed his apology (helped down with a several spoonfuls of home runs), and Giambi appears to be living happily ever after.

Bonds has chosen another route. True to his churlish personality, Barry snarls whenever words like “steroids” or “HGH” or “skull size” come up in an interview, making it clear that he will only answer questions about baseball. The fact that he’s an asshole doesn’t help his cause (nor does the color of his skin), but his failure to address the issue at all clearly makes him appear guilty in some eyes.

On the opposite end of the spectrum is Lance Armstrong. Not only does he have a lot of credit built up with the American public (cancer survivor, don’t mess with Texas, etc.), he has been almost militant in his constant assertion of his innocence. When asked recently for a comment on the Landis situation, Lancelot laid out a blueprint that would make any p.r. rep blush with envy: if you’re innocent, proclaim your innocence and do whatever it takes -- go on talk shows, give interviews, find experts, file lawsuits -- to get your message across.

As a result of these two divergent strategies, Armstrong is a victim and Bonds is a villain, even though their cases are surprizingly similar. There are mountains of circumstantial evidence piled against both of them, beginning with their otherworldly accomplishments -- Bonds after forty, Armstrong after cancer. Former lovers have come forward and spoken against both men, as have respected members of their sports, and actual evidence (a bag of empty steroid bottles pulled from the trash and a positive test for Armstrong, a dosing schedule for Bonds) has surfaced as well.

With Bonds, it all makes sense. In the public’s mind, a plus b clearly equals c, and there is no grey area. But because we like Armstrong (what’s not to like about a guy who’s hellbent on curing cancer) and he seems so upset about all of these accusations, we believe what he has to say, whether we’re the ones reporting the news or sitting at home watching it on television.

In the wake of Landis’s disqualification from the Tour de France, ABC News ran a spot on athletes who’ve been suspected of cheating. The reporter shook his head in disdain as he rattled off the list of athletes accused of doping and held their flimsy excuses up for ridicule. The name Armstrong wasn’t mentioned a single time. Well played, Lance.

So young Floyd Landis, with his impeccable moral upbringing and Mennonite family by his side, sits and waits. It’s difficult to understand how only one test in a series of dozens could detect such a huge increase in the testosterone ratio, just as it’s difficult to understand how a world class athlete like Landis could jeopardize his career and reputation by taking something on the day of that fateful stage that couldn’t even help his performance that day.

None of that seems to matter. Even though we’re all complicit in what’s happened, this creation of a sports culture in which anything goes; even though it isn’t really clear why a little testosterone is that bad in the first place; even though Landis might be the one guy out there who wouldn’t look for an advantage that came in a bottle or syringe; even though we’re talking about one lab test (and since when has anyone believed that lab tests are foolproof?); none of that seems to matter.

The sporting conscience has turned the page. One castle has been burned to the ground, but surely there must be more monsters on the loose. Grab a torch.

Burning at the Stake

If you're reading this, a site which purports to comment on issues in the sports world, you know all about Rafael Palmeiro's current suspension for violating Major League Baseball's steroid policy.

You've also no doubt seen the video clip of Palmeiro's congressional testimony last March in which he pointed his finger and essentially scolded our nation's lawmakers for deigning to drag him to the stake. While Mark McGwire hid behind tears and the fifth amendment and Sammy Sosa appeared to melt into a puddle of muddled denial, it was Palmeiro who stood out, defiant and resolute. As the flames leapt around him, he stood firm...

Click here to continue reading about how Palmeiro's steroid use might not be that terrible...

7*

What I'm about to write is blasphemy, so fasten your seatbelts...

But first, some background. After his Discovery Team surged to victory in the team time trial that is the fourth stage of the Tour de France, Lance Armstrong assumed the overall lead in the race and pulled on the yellow jersey for the first time this tour. It was cause for international celebration.

Now comes the blasphemy.

What if this whole thing is tarnished? What if Armstrong won the past six Tours de France with an unfair advantage? What if he isn't really the golden boy that the American media has created?

Certainly, it's a nice story. You've got a young American cyclist who is tragically stricken with testicular cancer. Doctors don't necessarily expect him to live, certainly don't expect him to stradle a bike again. Surprizing all, Armstrong beats the cancer, then gets back on the bike and beats the rest of the world -- six years in a row -- in the biggest bike race in the world.

How'd he do it? Somehow, it seems, the cancer that had threatened to devour him actually made his body a more efficient cycling machine. I know nothing about oncology or biomechanics, but let's just go with this for now -- that's what the American press wants.

Not everyone's buying it, however. The French, for instance, perhaps bitter that an American has been running roughshod over their national race (really, though, doesn't everyone run roughshod over the French?) have always been suspicious of Sir Lancelot. Reporters even broke into Armstrong's hotel room last year, presumably to search for steroids, and crowds frequently voice their skepticism as Armstrong winds his way through the course.

While most of this can be dismissed as sour grapes, there have been some questions raised at home. Earlier this year a former employee of Armstrong's claimed to have found a box labelled "androstenine" in Armstrong's apartment. (Admittedly, this revelation came after the employee had been fired.)

Another more damning opinion comes from a far more reputable source, three-time Tour de France winner Greg LeMond. Towards the end of last year's tour, LeMond made it quite clear that he was suspicious of Armstrong. Here's a quote from LeMond:

The problem with Lance is that (if you raise questions about doping) you're either a liar or you're out to destroy cycling. Lance is ready to do anything to keep his secret but I don't know how long he can convince everybody of his innocence.

And then there's the potential smoking gun. Soon after Armstrong's cancer diagnosis, his doctor asked him if he had ever used performance enhancing steroids. According to published reports, Armstrong wouldn't answer until everyone had left the room except for his sister and wife. Unless one of those two decides to write a tell-all, we'll likely never how Armstrong responded, but the circumstances certainly make one wonder.

Obviously, none of this is enough to convict Mr. Armstrong. In fact, I'm not even trying to convince anyone that Armstrong used steroids. Here's my question. Why has the mainstream press chosen to canonize Armstrong while convicting athletes like Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire, and Marion Jones? And why has the American public joined the parade? Is it only because we like him?

Armstrong is the perfect hero, and it almost doesn't matter that he can ride a bike a little bit. We haven't embraced him so much as we've adopted him. It takes a cycling fan to know that Armstrong beat Jan Ullrich, but any American can tell you that he beat cancer. Who among us, afterall, hasn't lost someone to cancer? Aren't we all wearing yellow bracelets around our wrists?

So perhaps we've lost a little perspective on the situation. We've arrived at a place where any athlete who demonstrates dominance over his peers immediately comes under suspicion, but Armstrong has escaped criticism in the United States. Meanwhile, less likeable stars like Barry Bonds and Gary Sheffield have been cast as villians. Is it only because they tend to be self-absorbed and surly at times? Is that enough? (John J. Perricone provides a balanced perspective on this hypocrisy.

Personally, I want to believe that most of these athletes -- including Armstrong, including Bonds, including Marion Jones -- have gotten where they are through hard work and natural talent, but I'm not naïve enough to think that everyone's innocent. I don't pretend to have all the answers, but I do have one question: Why is everyone so sure that Lance is clean?

Slip Sliding Away

During a time when reporters should be working on their suntans while asking skippers about potential fourth and fifth starters, the spectre of steroids has dominated major league spring training camps and team report columns in local newspapers.

The mainstream media all sings the same song -- steroids are cheating. They cover your back with acne, give you whiplash mood swings, and expand your skull as fast as they shrink your testicles. We all believe this because we read in our newspaper and hear it on the radio and see it on television every day. Why wouldn't we believe it?

But as it turns out, there really isn't a great deal of research into either the positive or negative effects of steroid use. If you're looking for another voice in the steroid debate -- someone a bit more credible and level-headed than José Canseco, please check out John J. Perricone of Only Baseball Matters. I linked to him last week in reference to this same subject, but I thought I'd mention him again. His most recent post focuses on the lack of medical research supporting the negative perceptions of steroids, and it's an interesting read.

While I'm not ready to see steroids and HGH on the shelves of the local GNC, I think it's important to have a discussion about what's going on. I'm not willing to have Mike Lupica and Mitch Albom (or even George W. Bush) make up my mind on the subject.

From an ethical point of view, the argument has always been that steroids tilt the playing field. Doesn't weight training tilt the playing field? What about protein supplements? I'm not sure, but I think there's more to steroid use than sticking a needle in your ass and watching Jerry Springer for an hour while your "clean" teammates hit the gym. The juicers are working out, too.

Consider this: baseball has taken steps to eliminate steroid use from the game, but at the same time they've given tacit approval to the continued abuse of amphetamines, a practice which has been rampant for decades. Isn't this a performance enhancing drug? Aren't there health risks associated with stimulants? Isn't there a potential for addiction?

And if baseball (and football, for that matter) is so concerned about the health risks said to be connected with steroids, shouldn't they be worried about the damage done when a player like Gary Sheffield takes a cortisone shot to play with a damaged shoulder? Or when Randy Johnson injects synthetic lubricant into his knee to make up for the missing cartilege? And have we forgotten about the 2004 ALCS? Curt Schilling received enough medication to anesthesize a yak, and he was hailed as a hero. The Hall of Fame asked for his bloody sock; will they call for Giambi's syringe? Sometimes I'm not sure what the difference would be.

Again, let me make one thing clear -- I do not write this in support of steroids or steroid users. I just worry that we're all standing on a slippery slope that's only greased in one direction. (That could be the strangest sentence I've ever written; I'm not sure if I understand it myself...) Anyway, I don't think the steroid issue is as black and white as some would have us believe.

Dancing with the Devil in the Pale Moonlight

As Barry Bonds and Jason Giambi are tried and convicted in the court of public opinion, two other athletes came under fire on Friday morning, track stars Marion Jones and Kelli White. In separate reports in this morning's editions of the Los Angeles Times, Jones was accused while White finally came clean. I'm not sure which article was more disturbing.

You remember the Divine Ms. Jones, America's Sweetheart, circa 2000. I was never sure if it was her incredible athleticism, bubbly personality, perky good lucks, or her steadfast support of her then-husband CJ Parker, but I liked the whole package. When she stopped mid-career to start a family with Tim Montgomery, I was refreshed to see that she had her priorities in order. What more could you ask for?

When the steroid whispers turned into outright accusations by the United States Anti-Doping Agency (USADA), I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, but things appear to have changed. In the Times article BALCO leading man Victor Conte, who once stated that he did not condone any form of steroid use, describes a meeting with Ms. Jones in which he taught the sprinter how to use human growth hormone. According to Conte, Jones then sat next to him and injected herself in her thigh. Certainly, Conte is a less than reliable source. After years of lying, he says he's coming forward now because people deserve to know the truth. Really? And we're getting the truth from Victor Conte? As expected, Jones's lawyer issued an immediate denial. Time will tell.

Kelli White's story is more interesting. She tested positive for a banned stimulant at the 2003 World Championships, then issued the standard denial. More than a year later, she finally decided to come clean, detailing a steroid regimen laid out by -- guess who? -- Victor Conte.

Again, none of this surprizing. White took THG (the "clear"), the blood enhancer EPO, and a testerone-based cream. Yawn. But the article is worth a read because White explains why she chose to dance with the devil. Basically, she was tired of working hard on the sprinting circuit and getting mediocre results. She felt she had reached her ceiling as an athlete, so she went to Conte to get to the next level.

It worked for a time, but now White realizes the error of her ways. She speaks of how she didn't like the person she was while on Conte's program, and that she knew she was wrong. As strange as it may seem, it's actually possible to feel sorry for her.

Enter the Inferno

In Thursday's edition of the San Francisco Chronicle we found out that Jason Giambi has used sterioids in the past. As far as shocking revelations go, this wasn't exactly like the Sixth Sense. No real surprizes here. In fact, back when Giambi was still terrorizing American League pitching as a member of the Oakland A's and the Yankees were clearly covetting him, I hoped like crazy that they'd spend their money elsewhere, since Giambi's steroid use seemed so obvious to me.

Giambi testified that he received testosterone, human growth hormone, and other steroids from Greg Anderson, Barry Bonds's trainer. Giambi stopped short of implicating Bonds, but the Chronicle didn't. In Friday's edition, they reported that Bonds also admitted steroid use during his testimony to the same grand jury. Bonds claimed that at the time he didn't know he was taking steroids, but I don't think anyone will buy that. (For an excellent take from the Giants' perspective, check out John Perricone at Only Baseball Matters.)

So what happens now? We'll start small and then go big. Jason Giambi has a serious problem on his hands. During his three years in New York he has demonstrated that he's not really comfortable on a big stage. He always looked hurt whenever he heard boos from the Stadium crowd, and never really found his place in the clubhouse. His 2004 season was a disaster, marred by health issues which may or may not have been related to his steriod use, and some Yankee officials were already concerned about his declining production even before this week's developments. The Yankees owe him $82 million over the next four years, and they'd do anything -- ANYTHING -- to rid themselves of this albatross. They're apparently looking into voiding his contract (off the top of my head, that's at least the fourth contract they've tried to void in the past year; perhaps they should consider some fiscal responsibility?) but few poeple think that will work. (Swing on over to Alex Belth's Bronx Banter site for more on Giambi's situation.)

Given Giambi's sensitivity, next season will be his biggest challenge yet. He seems to be living Dante's Divine Comedy in reverse; he left the Paradise he enjoyed in Oakland to spend three years in Purgatory as a Yankee. Next season will be the ninth circle of Hell. Some of his teammates will be bitter, reporters will be rabid, and fans will be livid. The booing in the Stadium will continue, and he'll be public enemy #1 when the Yankees hit the road. Imagine for a moment what it will be like when the Yanks visit Fenway in early April... I think he's Chuck Knoblauch waiting to happen.

Giambi is a problem for baseball, but he pales in comparison to Mr. Bonds. With 703 career home runs, Bonds is poised to top the most sacred number in all of sports, Babe Ruth's 714. Even though the average fan has long suspected his steroid use, and Bonds generally acts like a jerk most of the time, his run at Ruth (and eventually Aaron) would have been the biggest story of next season. What will happen now?

Bonds is the best player any of us will ever see. He is the major league record holder in almost every significant single-season offensive category (HR, OB%, SLG%, OPS, BB, IBB), and has a good shot at ending up at the top of a lot of career lists (HR, RBI, BB, R). But it's looking more and more like baseball won't be able to celebrate this, which is a shame.

There can be some good to come of all this. Baseball probably won't be able to discipline either player (although Giambi might see a penalty of some sort since he admitted to using substances which were banned in 2003), but they'd be much better served to look to the future. These twin revelations could provide the impetus necessary to push the player's union to accept a more stringent drug testing plan. A large portion of their members have already expressed a desire for more testing; this might push the rest over the edge.

Here's a quick fix: allow teams to rip up the contracts of players who test positive. Would Giambi have taken those steroids if he knew that his $115 million contract could be voided? Probably not. Remove the financial incentive (or at least provide a huge financial disincentive) and the problem might go away. I realize that this will never happen, but it could at least be a starting point. Something needs to be done.

There was one interesting thing from Giambi's leaked testimony. When asked about a particular group of white, yellow, and orange pills that Anderson had given him, here's how Giambi responded:

"I don't know what they were. He didn't really explain them. He just had told me to take them. And it had -- he explained it has something to do with the system. ... He just said to take it in conjunction with all the stuff."

Is it just me, or is that a little odd? I think it points out a critical gap in our understanding of athletes who use performance enhancing drugs. If my doctor prescribes an antibiotic for a lingering cold, I ask him about it. Then I talk to the pharmacist when I pick it up. When I get home, I might even get some information on-line. But not Giambi.

It's easy to question these athletes and wonder why they would risk their health for the sake of a few more home runs or touchdowns or tenths of a second. We ask those questions because cannot possibly relate to them. If you're a world class sprinter, and your entire life's work will be defined by a ten-second span of time in 2008, wouldn't you do anything to make sure you had a shot to win? If you were one of a thousand minor league outfielders trying for one of twenty available spots in the major leagues, wouldn't you do what you could to get an extra five or ten home runs?

I don't present those questions as a defense of athletes who have broken the rules in their sports, but as a possible explanation for their choices. For any athlete to reach the top of his or her sport, that individual must be incredibly selfish. Nothing has priority over the game, not family, not education, and certainly not the future. Why shouldn't an athlete risk his health?

If we accept that there will always be some athletes who are driven to cheat to get that extra edge, then we must protect those who don't. Bonds and Giambi may have damaged the game by their admissions, but in the long run baseball might be stronger as a result.