I'm Back!

To paraphrase the great Jimmy Chitwood - I think it’s time for me to start playing ball again. Granted, I don’t have Indiana high school basketball super-coach Norman Dale to hound me about shooting over ladders or running the picket fence. But, nonetheless, I’m ready to make my triumphant – or at least mediocre – return to blogging. Now, hopefully, I can remember my password so I can actually post this article online.

I took some time off. Maybe it was the lack of enthusiasm for winning fostered by the Kansas City Chiefs. Maybe I didn’t want to jinx my beloved Jayhawks during what turned out to be a surprisingly solid season. Maybe it was the fact that it was the off-season for the Royals and nothing gets my blood boiling like the Kansas City front office trying to get people excited about AAA baseball in Kansas City. Or, maybe it was because it’s taken me a good five months to get comfortable in my new job and, until recently, I haven’t even wanted to look at a computer when I wasn’t at work. Whatever the reason, what’s done is done and I think it’s time for me to start writing again. Hopefully, I haven’t driven my fives and tens of faithful readers away. If I have, I hope you’ll take me back and give me another opportunity to get riled up about small market sports. Because, as Jimmy Chitwood told Coach Dale and the rest of his Hoosier teammates at the end of the big game, “I’ll make it.”

Last night, the 2006 Major League Baseball season started off with the World Champion Chicago White Sox taking on the Cleveland Indians. Those two teams are the pre-season favorites to compete for the American League Central title. Rounding out the bottom of that same division will most likely be my very own hometown Kansas City Royals. In fact, here in KC, this season doesn’t have anything to do with competing for the wildcard or even getting back to the .500 mark. At Kaufman Stadium, the big question is, can the Royals avoid becoming the second team ever and the first team in more than fifty years to lose 100 games three seasons in a row? It’s the race for 63 – not much to get your blood pumping and your wallet out as you head for the ballpark.

So, whether it’s an aging journeyman outfielder heading the free agent signees or the incredibly insulting and ridiculous stadium renovation project being voted on later this week, I’m guessing I’ll have plenty of time to comment on the shortcomings of the Royals this season. But, for MLB, the picture isn’t so bleak. From Seattle to Tampa Bay, from San Diego to Boston, the 2006 season is being hailed as the beginning of a new era. Dead and gone is the so-called Steroid Era, crushed to death by Congress and BALCO and Jose Canseco. Those images are being replaced by a younger, faster, more competitive game. Ticket sales are up, coming close to the 1998-99 levels when McGwire and Sosa swept the country on their own personal super-sized, not quite all-natural home run parade. New stars are rising with stats based not on the long ball, but instead on batting average and on-base percentage. With clubs getting comfortable with salary cap issues and team-first attitude, competitive balance is at an all-time high.

But, before we start patting ourselves on the back and handing out asterisks for would be records, we shouldn’t forget the remainders of the Steroid Era that still hang over the game. Former U.S. Senator George Mitchell is leading an investigation into steroid use that will most likely center on recently published details about the steroid use of Barry Bonds, among others. And, perhaps of greater concern to Major League Baseball, Bonds continues to play and, if his health holds up, will most likely pass Babe Ruth’s career home run mark this hear and Hank Aaron’s next year. How will the league in general and Bud Selig’s commissioner’s office in particular respond to Bonds’ continued assault on the record book? Do they celebrate it or ignore it? Do they condone his past accomplishments, hiding behind the farce that he was never caught breaking any of MLB’s steroid rules simply because there were no rules to break? Or, do they go hard-line and refuse to acknowledge Bonds’ home runs because they are more tainted than the Clinton White House? Only time will tell.

With the game changing and a policy in place that ought to actually curb steroid use, Major League Baseball wants the Steroid Era to be a thing of the past. And it will forever be remembered in the images of five men – baseball giants that crumbled under the pressure of the public eye and the glare of exposure when their actions – either accused or admitted – hit the front pages. Four of these five men came together in front of Congress last year. Their words, or lack thereof, were ridiculed for weeks on talk shows and in sports columns. And now, instead of remembering them for their on-field heroics, they will be remembered as jokes – caricatures of themselves.

It all started with Jose Canseco. When his book, Juiced, was released last year, he was lampooned as a buffoon – a disgraced slugger throwing his former teammates under the bus in a flagrant attempt to get back in the spotlight. But, despite some obvious inaccuracies, Canseco stood by his story. He took steroids, admitted it, and named names about who else in the majors was getting some unnatural help. His reputation was so bad, that when that strange day in front of Congress came, Canseco was ostracized by the other players. Now, things have changed. Once the fool, Canseco has emerged as the hero in this sordid saga. Like the old Mormon-ad that had my friends teasing me as a boy, Canseco can stand up tall after admitting to breaking the window and sing, “I told the truth!” This was an extraordinary turn of events – rivaling Donald Trump’s current popularity. Jose Canseco will go down in history as the HONEST one.

Sitting in the same room with Canseco in front of Congress was the one no one had really considered until the book came out – Texas and Baltimore slugger Raphael Palmeiro. He was strong. He was decisive. He had 3,000 hits and was approaching 500 home runs in a career that, though not spectacular, seemed strong and consistent. But none of those accomplishments will be remembered as much as what he did in front of Congress: he wagged that finger and swore that he had not taken steroids. After the hearing, Palmeiro came out looking like a prince. He was unimpeachable. He spoke his mind and told off those glory-seeking congressmen. His career wasn’t steroid enhanced! Then, the unthinkable – the man who scolded Congress for questioning his accomplishments tested positive for steroids. Suddenly, he was the laughing stock. He was the one being ridiculed. And he will forever be remembered as the LIAR.

Next came the FOOL. As much as it pains me to say this, that role belongs to the one and only Slammin’ Sammy Sosa. Sammy was vital to the resurgence of baseball during the late 90s. He hit home runs at an alarming rate, his hop up the first baseline becoming a nightly fixture on Sportscenter. In the summer of ’98, Sammy joined Mark McGwire as the public face of baseball. He was personable. He was funny. He sprinted to the outfield at the beginning of every game. And he was always available for a funny comment and a big smile. But, suddenly, when steroid questions came up, Sammy forgot how to speak English. He had the audacity to attend the hearings with an interpreter. He couldn’t explain himself because he couldn’t speak the language. But the gambit didn’t work. Everyone knew Sammy could speak English. Everyone knew that Sammy simply didn’t want to answer the questions. And his ridiculous attempt at evasiveness was effectively the end of his career.

Sammy’s foil in that home run crazy ’98 season was Mark McGwire. Big Mac had retired as a St. Louis hero. Everyone loved him. He could do no wrong. Who would ever forget him crossing the plate and picking up his son or hugging Sosa after he broke Maris’ record? He changed the game and shattered marks no one thought could be broken. McGwire had a specific game plan when he came to Congress, most likely dictated by no promise of immunity. The one-time-sure-Hall-of-Famer’s perfect defense? Refuse to talk about the past. The future is all that matters. He’s only looking forward. He was loved and embraced by a city and, to some extent, a nation. We all were willing to look past the suddenly hulking physique, the obvious acne, even the Andro in the locker if only we could see one more towering drive into the bleachers. But, Canseco pointed directly at him in the pages of his book – even describing injecting McGwire while with the A’s. And, with Canseco’s testimony part of the public record, McGwire couldn’t risk unprotected incrimination and became, in a word, PATHETIC.

So that leaves one more player, a literal home run Giant, and the only of the five that was somehow allowed to escape the grasp of Congress – at least, so far: the one and only Barry Bonds. Canseco’s book brought up the steroid issue for Bonds, but these were all questions he had heard and ignored before. He never played with Canseco and there was no proof in Juiced that pointed to Bonds. However, Canseco’s book was followed by another one – written by two San Francisco journalists – and this one really brought the heat. Game of Shadows specifically details Bonds’ alleged steroid use and abuse. The book paints him as a jealous, mean and deceptive figure, only out for his own glory. The suspicions were everywhere – the remarkable change in his size, the inflated power numbers at an age when most careers where in decline, the “best friend” who was a known steroid distributor. But Major League Baseball and the San Francisco Giants stayed silent. No matter if you liked him or not, Bonds was the home run king and a celebration befitting royalty would be required when that king overtook Ruth and Aaron. But, suddenly, the tide of public opinion swelled. People couldn’t believe this man would be allowed to stand in front of the two greatest sluggers that ever lived. Now, what would Selig do when the records started falling? When things started to get serious, I’m guessing MLB honchos started hoping that Bonds’ injuries would keep him off the field for good. But they haven’t and with Bonds planning to play this year, Selig was forced to act. An investigation has been opened. Bonds is in the crosshairs. The outcome, the records, the asterisks are still in question. However, even though this appellation describes all five figures, Bonds is now the villain of the steroid era and will be known forever as the CHEAT.

So, there you have it. Baseball is doing all they can to get out from under this enormous shadow – the frighteningly massive noggin of Barry Bonds. And it will be billed as a year of renewal, of excitement, of honest competition. Players will value gap power because they don’t want to be questioned for hitting too many balls out of the park. Pitchers may not go as many innings without the ability to recover as quickly with a little help. And these are good things. I’m excited about the season. I’m excited about the prospects of the sixth new World Series champ in six years. I’m excited to watch closer games. And, perhaps more than anything, I’m excited to see how the fans, the players and the league responds if Bonds hits number 715. It will be a stark reminder that the Steroid Era is not quite gone. And we will have a front row seat to one of the most sordid affairs in sports history – all the while just hoping the Royals can go 63-99!