"It's like finding out that Santa Claus, instead of supervising a team of industrious elves in his workshop, actually had a deal with Walmart. It's the same toy. You just feel crummy about how you got it."-Bob Ryan, in the Globe today
Ok, so, I have had a chance to sleep on it...and I still don't really know what to think about it. All I really do know is that as the names slowly drip-drip-drip out, the entire beleaguered fanbase of the San Francisco Giants must be feeling a very hollow victory. You want an asterisk next to the home run record? Fine, as long as you put an asterisk next to every accomplishment since 1990, including the World Series victories of '04 and '07...because people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw syringes. I never believed the '04 Red Sox were clean, but there's a difference between knowing in the abstract some guys were juicing and having it thrown in your face. Although it flickered through my mind-and immediately pushed aside-on occasion that David Ortiz might have been juicing, I really didn't believe Manny was a user back then. Guess I was wrong.
But what to do with the information? Ahhh, there's the rub. There are going to be a lot of Red Sox fans today saying, "Hey, it was 2003, there's no direct evidence he ever used after that!" Yeah, just like there is no direct evidence that Scott Peterson killed his wife, either, but he still is sitting on death row having been convicted of her murder. There is going to be (already is) a cottage industry of denial cropping up around the veracity of test-sorry, Nomar, but the idea that guys would jeopardize their careers in order to force steroid testing after they had fought it tooth and nail for a decade just doesn't pass the straight face test-and the manner in which it's supposedly anonymous contents were exposed, as if that had anything to do with the actual legitimacy of the test results. While I'm sure there were issues with the test, I'm also sure that a lot of people this morning are medicating themselves with the idea that it was the test that was screwed up, not the players. I am really not trying to be a wet blanket, but there are a lot of people in RSN in serious need of some slap therapy this morning. This hurts, and no amount of excuse-making will make it hurt less. It only makes us look like knuckle-dragging sycophants. It is what it is. Just suck it up, folks. Our guys are no better than the next ones.
I will, of course, not throw David Ortiz under the bus. He deserves to be allowed to tell his side of the story. But I am afraid I will be skeptical about any way he tries to spin this. It's going to be impossible to take him at face value anymore. After all, I don't believe Andy Pettitte only used twice, or that ARod had no clue as to what he was injecting into his ass, or that Barry Bonds said "whatever" when his trainer gave him "flaxseed oil." Was it just a Dominican protein shake ("accidentally" laced with Winstrol, LOL, way to get ahead of the bad press, Bronson! You guys are unbelievable!) or a comprehensive plan ala Marion Jones and Balco? We will never know, unfortunately, and because of that people will believe what they want to believe. Except for those of us who don't know what to believe.
One thing I do firmly believe is that everybody associated with baseball in any way-the players who used and the union who defended the practice, the league officials and owners who turned a blind eye for the sake of the money train, and the fans who refused to believe what was happening in their own ballparks as records fell and players grew to the size of sequoias-is at fault for this. It's just like the housing crisis-the money was really easy and people on the street were getting what they wanted. Who cared that it was all built on a house of cards, until that house of cards came crashing down and very abruptly and rudely ended the party for all? There is always a heavy price to be paid for excess, folks-it's fun while it lasts but you're ashamed of yourself afterwards. And if the truth be known, the biggest drivers behind all this? The Yankees and Red Sox, setting the bar for exorbitant player salaries, trying to outspend each other to titles. Hell, for $160 million, I might just shoot up myself.
(Just an aside, If you would like vomit with your breakfast, I would suggest checking out Schilling this morning. He's more worried about how the union didn't work harder to skew the test results, and making sure once again that we all think he is Mr. Clean. Not a word of support to Ortiz, either, who made his "bloody sock" moment possible. The lengths this guy will go to burnish himself at the expense of others is unreal. What a sanctomonious fuck.)
What's done is done. While I will always love David Ortiz, I will always cherish the memory of 2004, I can't do it with a feeling of innocence and wonder anymore. Like it or not, our favorite team was a full-fledged product of the steroid era, just like every other team out there from the 1990s on...
No, wait. Suddenly I know how I feel about this. I am furious. One of the best days of my life was just yanked from underneath me, and I am royally pissed off about it. Fuck you, Bud Selig. Fuck you, Don Fehr. And fuck all of us who knew in 1998 that Mark McGwire was more juiced than an East German swimmer and cheered him on anyway. This never ending comeuppance, this powerful punch right to the gut, frankly, is all we deserve for our breathtaking arrogance.
Recent Comments