Kuzul

To the surprise of no one, the recent Barry Bonds perjury trial ended with a result that satisfied neither party and only really succeeded in stirring up another round of PED-related articles. 

One of the most common type article to enter the fray is how the Hall of Fame will view such candidates; after all, Bonds (and others guilty/suspected of usage) put up some impressive numbers during his career. 

Some writers are calling for the Hall of Fame to establish new guidelines on voting procedures for the next election; others are calling for an outright ban of all PED users.

Both of these ideas strike me as rather unnecessary.  I mean, isn’t it the job of the HOF voters to decide who is worthy of induction?  Besides, a lot of the arguments that are being used against PED users don’t really hold water—and could set a serious double-standard when it comes to past inductees.

PEDs vs. Gambling

One of the most popular arguments used against PED users is that they should be banned from the Hall because Pete Rose—another great player who suffered a major scandal within the game—is banned from the Hall. 

People who make this argument do not seem to understand why exactly Rose (and fellow gambler Shoeless Joe Jackson) are ineligible for the Hall of Fame in the first place. 

In truth, the Hall of Fame has no actual policy on gambling itself—both Ty Cobb and Tris Speaker are both enshrined despite their involvement in a famous gambling scandal, and chances are they are not the only HOFers who gambled on baseball in the early part of the 20th century. 

The reason Rose (and Jackson) are not in the Hall of Fame, however, is because their gambling resulted in lifetime bans by MLB, and it is the policy of the Hall of Fame to prohibit such players from the ballot.

(Whether or not this should be the case is another argument for another day.  But for the record, I believe Rose should be in the Hall of Fame but never allowed to work in MLB in any capacity above youth camp coordinator.  And Jackson’s ban really should be up by now, considering he has been dead for nearly 60 years)

Believe it or not, PED users also fall under this provision.  According to MLB’s steroid policy, any player who fails a steroid test on three separate occasions is given a lifetime ban from the game.  Such players will also be ineligible for the Hall as a result.

Other Forms of Cheating 

Another important thing to remember about the Hall of Fame is that it has never had a policy against forbidding cheaters of any type.  Numerous players now in the Hall are guilty of illegal bats, illegal pitches, illegal modifications of equipment, stealing signs and numerous other illegal activities within the game. 

Names like Cobb, Ford, Drysdale and Perry are among the HOFers who engaged in these activities during their careers.

Now to be fair, PEDs are a different form of cheating altogether (though not necessarily better or worse).  However, the Hall has also never had a policy against drugs of any type.

I’ve pointed out before that the PED issue in baseball dates back as far as Pud Galvin in 1889, and the list of HOFers who have partaken in PED usage is extensive.  Mantle, Aaron, Mays, Gibson, Perry, McCovey and Ford are but a few of the current HOFers who have admitted to engaging in PEDs during their careers (and so has Rose, by the way).

I know what you are thinking:  “Yeah, but these players didn’t use steroids.”  Maybe… or maybe not.  After all, the Mitchell Report itself states explicitly that the Federal Government first determined that steroid usage was widespread in MLB clubhouses in 1973. 

This corresponds quite well with statements by former MLB pitcher (and MLB pitching coach) Tom House, who is most famous for catching Hank Aaron’s 715th home run but has also admitted to steroid usage throughout the 1970s, claiming that every team he played for had at least six or seven pitchers experimenting with the drug.

In other words, it’s extremely naïve to think that there are not already steroid users in the MLB Hall of Fame.

(House, incidentally, believes that steroid usage has gone down since the 1970s as more people have become aware of—and made to fear—the potential side effects of usage).

Legality

The final argument often used (by all sides) to justify past PED usage is that the PEDs were not illegal or as potent at the time (Amphetamines were made illegal in 1970; steroids in 1989). 

Well, so what?  From a baseball prospective, there is no fundamental difference between using PEDs when they were legal and using them when they were not legal.  Motivations for their usage remain identical:  become a better player; play longer; improve chances of succeeding; and make more money. 

If there’s one difference between the users of today and the users of yesterday, it’s that today’s athletes have a better understanding of how the PEDs work.  Specifically, improved conditioning and weight training—a practice that was actually discouraged in MLB circles until the late-1980s—not only makes somebody a better athlete, but also makes the PEDs work more effectively.

In essence, people want to ban today’s PED users because they work harder in the offseason than ever before.

Conclusion

If the MLB Hall of Fame chooses to ban PED users, they will run counter to every established induction procedure/guideline they have ever had.  They will also create a huge double standard between generations by allowing PED users from one generation in the Hall while banning those from another. 

Worse, it could open up a Pandora’s Box when the drug use of older players is given greater scrutiny, resulting in past greats getting booted.

So the Hall should continue to keep the same criteria they have had for the past half-decade and let the voters decide on the issue for themselves.  If they want to consider PED usage, fine; if not, simply continue voting in the best players on the ballot.

Just like they have always done.

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A sport bruised by work stoppages. Millionaires fighting with billionaires. Fans showed their displeasure the best way they knew how. They stopped going to games.

Things picked back up in the late 1990s, with more fans piling into more parks than ever before.

There was some thought that fans came back because of the sudden surge of offense via the most exciting thing in the game, the home run.

Things really picked up in 1998 when Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, Ken Griffey Jr. and Greg Vaughn all finished with 50 or more home runs, with McGwire and Sosa both eclipsing the record set by Roger Maris in 1961. Nine other players slugged over 40 homers.

A whole bunch of failed drug tests, grand jury indictments and 13 years later left people connecting the dots between that power surge and the use of performance enhancing drugs. Most notable of course being steroids.

So while saying home runs saved baseball was cliche at the time, there is now a thought that the very thing so many of us are upset about is what saved baseball.

I’m not so sure about that.

In the early 1980s, baseball had two short work stoppages. Eight days in 1980 and two days in 1985. Sandwiched between those was a 50-day dispute in 1981. Still, attendance stayed north of 20,000 per game league-wide, eventually rising to over 25,000 for the National League and nearly 30,000 for the American League.

Just as things were starting to get better, they got uglier.

The 32-day lockout in 1990 was nothing compared to the 232-day strike launched by the players in 1994 that wiped out the World Series for the first time.

After attendance averages had reached as high as nearly 37,000 for the senior circuit in 1993, the fans seemingly had enough.

Then came the aforementioned power surge and fans flowed back through the turnstiles as if they had turned the other cheek or decided to give their national pastime another chance.

Attendance rocketed into the 32,000 range for the AL and north of 38,000 for the NL where McGwire and Sosa were putting on the fireworks show.

With reasonable regression expected after the home run record chases, attendance league wide dropped to an average of around 30,000 per game in 2000. Throughout the next decade, we’d see a spike as high as 32,694 in 2007 with the low being around 28,000 during a small hiccup in 2002.

The league isn’t seeing the attendance it did in the late ’90s, but it’s not seeing the lows of the ’70s, ’80s and early ’90s either.

With relative labor peace in baseball compared to the nasty fight with the NFL, and the one expected with the NBA, things have been smooth.

A sport once marred by strikes, lockouts, bickering and fighting has seen nothing but immense growth over the past 16 years thanks to revenue sharing, media and merchandising booms and more.

Did steroids save baseball?

I don’t think so.

Baseball, in all its beauty and glory, saved baseball. Just by showing up.

Alex Carson is a Mariners and MLB writer and blogger. Follow him on Twitter: @AlexCarson

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After hearing that Tampa Bay Rays slugger Manny Ramirez tested positive for performance enhancing drugs for the second time in three years, I started to wonder…

“Should we let steroid users into the Hall of Fame?”

I think the answer is, yes, we should.  Now before I get bashed and people tell me I am not a real fan of the game, hear me out on why I think it is time to accept this “cheating.”  For the longest time I was against this but recent events have changed my opinion.

Since the adoption of the drug policy, we have seen some big name players connected with performance enhancing drugs.  Manny Ramirez, Barry Bonds, Alex Rodriguez, Ivan Rodriguez, Jason Giambi, Sammy Sosa, Rafael Palmeiro, Roger Clemens and Mark McGwire just to name a few.

While there are many more who have been linked to steroids, just the names listed above would make one hell of an All-Star team.  Of those that I just named, at least eight were a lock to be enshrined into the Hall of Fame.

After seeing all of these names, I think we should let these players into the Hall of Fame, and here are the reasons why:

Everyone is doing it…

While I know I am generalizing when I say “everyone” you have to realize that there are more players using PED’s than you would have originally thought.  I know there have been players that have stayed away from any accusations such as Derek Jeter, Jim Thome, Chipper Jones and Ken Griffey Jr., but it does not mean they have not done them.

Now don’t get me wrong, I would be crushed if I ever found out Jeter or Griffey used steroids, but just because we don’t think they haven’t, doesn’t mean they have.  There have been 25 different players suspended since the drug policy was introduced, now we can’t really believe that they are the only ones who have used PED’s, can we?

Bud Selig knew what was going on…

Bud Selig is as hypocritical as it gets.  After the strike-shortened season in 1994, the MLB had lost a lot of fans and they were in need of something that would help drive ticket sales.  Alas, the Summer of ’98, when McGwire and Sosa both chased Roger Maris’ single-season home run record of 61.  Both players ended up breaking the record, McGwire finished the season with 70 home runs, and Sosa finished with 66.  Then in 2001, Bonds once again broke the record by hitting 73.

As dumb as Selig may look, he is a smart business man.  He knew that fans loved to see home runs, so why take that luxury away from the people who were paying your salary?  He allowed players to do whatever it took to bring in money for both the league and themselves.  After doing some research, I found that these steroids stay in your system anywhere from four days to 18 months.  So even if a player had stopped before the testing started, it is possible he could have tested positive.

So I ask you, can a player be punished for doing something that he was allowed to do?

Some PED’s are actually being used to heal injuries…

Andy Pettitte made this claim when he was caught using HGH.  He claimed that he used the HGH to heal an existing injury so he could get back on the field faster.  Someone like Pettitte has always been viewed as a professional and a great teammate.  However, he seems to get a “free pass” on his usage because he owned up to it and because it was to heal an injury.

I am a huge fan of Pettitte but how come other players can’t be using the PED’s for the same reason?  Many people are going to say, “none of the players being accused had serious injuries.”  Then I point out, maybe it is because of the drugs that they did not have the injuries.

Someone is considered a “team player” if they take a discount to play for a team or if they constantly play hurt because it will help the team, so why isn’t someone a team player if they want to stay healthy and on the field and help them win?

We cannot leave these players out of the Hall of Fame…

Is it really the Hall of Fame if some of the greatest hitters to ever live are not inducted? 

For example, Bonds was a Hall of Famer before he started taking steroids, he had already collected three NL MVP Awards, countless All-Star games, and was one of the best players of the ’90s.  He finished his career with seven NL MVP Awards, 762 home runs—which is the all time record—14 All-Star games, eight Gold Gloves, 12 Silver Sluggers and two batting titles.

Can we really leave the all-time home run leader out of the Hall of Fame?

The same goes for Rodriguez.  In 2009, he admitted to using PED’s while he was with the Texas Rangers.  A-Rod was supposed to be the one who broke record and would go down as the greatest player to ever live.  While his legacy is definitely tarnished, should a player who has three MVP Awards, over 600 home runs, 13 All-Star games, two Gold Gloves, 10 Silver Sluggers and a World Series Championship, be kept out of the Hall of Fame for using steroids for three years?

And before anyone says “you can’t prove that he used them for only three years.” I point out that he has not failed a test since the drug policy has been adopted.

Five years ago, Clemens was arguably the greatest pitcher to ever live and now he is fighting just to stay out of jail.  While again, I am not condoning the use of PED’s, I think players are being unfairly judged.  Clemens was pitching to guys who were using PED’s, so where is the advantage?  He won 354 games to go along with seven Cy Young Awards, can you really say no to him?

While maybe this is just my personal opinion, I feel like we just have to accept what the players are doing.  We do not have to approve of it however, I do not feel like we can keep these players out of the Hall of Fame because then we do not have the “best of the best.”

The Hall of Fame is made to enshrine the best players the game has ever seen.  If someone is to say that these players are not some of the best that the game has ever seen, then they are not the real fan.

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Okay, now you can boo him.

And throw some dirt on the Rays season while you’re at it.

Manny Ramirez was one step ahead of the law Friday when he abruptly quit retired from baseball, which appeared ready to slap him with a second suspension. This slap was for 100 games, after he again violated the sport’s drug policy.

Manny, 38, bailed.

He shut it down faster than the federal government ever could.

Manny just contracted, so here we are.

So much for him being part of the marketing push for the new ballpark that was going to help keep the club in the area.

In the end, it was just Manny being dirty.

Again.

One thing’s for sure: He will not be wearing a Rays hat in Cooperstown.

Who am I kidding? Like there is a chance in hell he will find his way into the Hall of Fame without having first purchased a ticket.

The last time around, in Los Angeles, he was caught using a fertility drug.

Bet the Rays had twins when this news came down.

Scratch one cleanup hitter.

What a sordid episode.

What an embarrassment.

True, the optimist might say the Rays got the inevitable Manny headache out of the way early. Manny’s career here lasted about 119 minutes—okay, six games, really; five of which he played in, getting just one hit in 17 at-bats with his last plate appearance Wednesday afternoon.

Who will ever forget it? Manny’s last swing will go down as a pinch-hit fly out.

But it doesn’t help the perception, and maybe the reality, that this Rays season is already a goner. While Manny avoided suspension, the Rays will serve out the remaining 155 games of their 2011 sentence. They began the season 0-6 and the only question is who in this B-squad lineup is going to step up and not hit in Manny’s place. We haven’t even mentioned the grim prospect of Casey Kotchman bobblehead night.

But I digress.

Back to Manny being dirty.

As recently as two years ago, Ramirez would have been a no-brainer, with tape-measure Hall of Fame credentials.

Now he gets in a line that might never move, with Barry Bonds, Rafael Palmeiro, Mark McGwire, Roger Clemens and the rest. Manny will always be the guy who got nailed cheating not once, not twice, but three times. (Remember that 2003 list that A-Rod and Big Sloppy were found on?)

That, my friends, is what thou calls a “tainted legacy.”

“Obviously, it’s not going to help,” Rays manager Joe Maddon said, according to Hot Trends News.

Manuel Aristides Ramirez smashed 555 home runs and drove in 1,831 runs, but he was hardly ever in a place where things didn’t end badly, though the speed of his departure here was truly stunning.

When Maddon sat Ramirez for most of Wednesday’s game at Tropicana Field, and announced Manny would also miss Thursday’s game in Chicago to attend to a “family matter,” there were some raised eyebrows. After all, Manny played the part of the happy camper all spring training. He sold himself to a lot of people. There were no troubling signs as the season began, unless you count 1-for-17.

Then all of this hits, seemingly out of nowhere (please note the sarcasm).

What a shocker!

I mean who on earth would have ever thought this guy would have been so stupid to use, and get caught using, again?

Well you can’t see me right now, but I kind of look like this image you see to the right.

Perhaps even more embarrassingly, the Rays got caught giving him another chance.

They said up front there was always a risk. Damn right there was.

It’s hard to tell what real impact this will have on this season. I mean, the Rays were clearly capable of not scoring runs with Manny.

They didn’t have much invested in him ($2  million) and there was always a chance he would have nothing left, something I thought while watching him last season. Maybe the Rays should have gone after Vladimir Guerrero after all.

But they didn’t.

They rolled the dice on this ass-clown fully knowing that he had a long, sordid history of screwing over entire organizations.

So once MLB released a statement stating that the league notified Ramirez of an issue with the drug policy, something he is very familiar with, he abruptly decided to quit instead of facing a 100-game suspension, since this would have been his second positive test.

Basically, he took his ball and went home. It’s not really surprising with how the tail-end of Manny’s career went.

Manny pretty much quit with the Red Sox when he showed his displeasure with his contract situation by not running out ground balls and possibly bringing his game down to intentionally not produce, until he was traded to the Dodgers.

That whole mess of a situation, along with his suspensions, clearly shows Manny had no respect for the game of baseball. His latest move of quitting six games into the season is a joke, but one where no one should be surprised.

In the end, the game of baseball is a lot better off without Manny Ramirez.

Good freakin’ riddance.

This article is also featured on The Rantings and Ravings Of A (Formerly) Mad Mailman.

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In a surprise announcement Friday afternoon, Manny Ramirez shocked the baseball world by announcing his decision to retire from MLB, effective immediately.

The retirement was announced by MLB via the following statement (courtesy of ESPN.com news services)::

“Major League Baseball recently notified Manny Ramirez of an issue under Major League Baseball’s Joint Drug Prevention and Treatment Program,” the statement said. “Rather than continue with the process under the Program, Ramirez has informed MLB that he is retiring as an active player. If Ramirez seeks reinstatement in the future, the process under the Drug Program will be completed. MLB will not have any further comment on this matter.”

Although the message is open to interpretation, it seems that Manny has once again tested positive for a banned substance and, rather than face the embarrassment of another suspension, has decided to walk away from the game. 

The real tragedy behind this story is what could have been, for Manny was one of the most colorful characters and best right-handed hitters of his generation. Yet, like many of his generation, his legacy will be forever tarnished by the stain of cheating.

There is no doubt that he would have been a first ballot Hall of Famer if he hadn’t been indicted by performance enhancing drugs. PED’s have ruined his legacy and, in an ironic way, have suddenly ended his career.

He has a .312 career batting average with 1,831 RBIs and 555 homers. Those are historic numbers, yet like Sammy Sosa, Mark McGwire, Barry Bonds and Rafael Palmeiro, he has a better chance of winning the lottery than getting a bust in baseball’s immortal shrine.

This is a subject that Bud Selig and MLB wishes would just go away, yet reminders rear their ugly heads once again. While the Bonds trial nauseatingly keeps the issue in the mainstream, along comes Manny to once again prove why they need a steroid wing in Cooperstown.

It raises the question of how do we know who did it and who did not? Just because a player wasn’t caught doesn’t necessarily mean that he was clean. 

Yet there will be players who do get into the HOF despite having used PED’s. For every Roger Clemens, there is that player that somehow escaped detection and enters the hallowed halls anyway.

One interesting question is whether or not the stain of PED’s will ever fade enough to someday allow the forgiveness necessary to allow these players into the Hall.

It may happen, but it may take a long time. Meanwhile, it’s a stain on an otherwise stellar resume.

For Manny, that stain may be indelible.

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Barry Bonds awaits his fate in a federal courthouse in San Francisco for allegedly lying about knowingly using steroids.

Whatever the outcome of that case, one thing is for certain: Bonds deprived us of more than we know as baseball fans.  It’s not just the asterisks that we attach to the records Bonds broke; it’s more than that.  It’s what he didn’t allow us to see: a great player who achieved so much through natural ability and dedication to his craft, who then got older and slowed down.

That’s right.  We didn’t get to see Barry decline, and that’s not fair to the game of baseball or its fans.

One of the biggest reasons baseball is America’s pastime—the game of our forefathers, and now our game—is because we can identify with those who compete on the diamond.  We see ourselves in so many of our heroes on the baseball field, both in their triumphs and defeats.  We see men who toil in the minor leagues for years and years before finally getting their shot on the big stage under the bright lights.  We see those who have such a beautiful, natural gift for the game, that it’s simply a joy to watch them display that day-in and day-out.

That’s why we see movies like “The Rookie” (where a middle-aged high school baseball coach gets a chance in the big leagues in his 40s) and “The Natural” (where Robert Redford plays Roy Hobbs, “the greatest there ever was”).

We see tragedy, as when Lou Gehrig caught “a bad break”, being diagnosed with ALS (thereafter named “Lou Gherig’s disease”), forcing him into early retirement and, rapidly, into an early exit from this life.  We see triumph, like when hobbled pinch-hitter Kirk Gibson of the Dodgers limped to home plate in Game 1 of the 1988 World Series to face the toughest closer in the game, Dennis Eckersley, and homered to win it for Los Angeles, propelling the underdog Dodgers to a world championship over the heavily-favored Athletics.

These moments remind us of our own challenges, fears, failures, courage, and triumphs.  We gain strength by seeing a man hit a round ball with a round bat, while other men chase that ball down.  Baseball mimics life, and beautifully at that.  That’s why we’re so addicted to it.  It gives us something to remind us of who we are and what we can achieve.

One of the most important lessons we learn from baseball is that nothing lasts forever.  It’s true in the game, and it’s true in life.  Our heroes of the diamond are great ballplayers for 10, maybe even 15 years, but then they start to fade and their skills begin to erode right before our eyes.  Willie Mays may have said it best, from the perspective of one of the greatest of all-time: “Growing old is just a helpless hurt.”  The 41-year-old Mays said that after he had fallen in the outfield during the 1973 World Series, when he was a member of the New York Mets.  It was clear that diminishing skills and an aging body were even catching up with the Say Hey Kid.

Willie Mays is just one of many great players in baseball history that were among the best in the game during their primes, but whose ability faded with the passage of time, helping us see that we should make the most of what we have in life, and more than that, the most of what we have to give.  More recently, we’ve seen some of the greatest players of our own generation hang up the spikes after coming to the realization that they just don’t have enough anymore.

Chief among them: Ken Griffey, Jr.  Junior Griffey was perhaps the greatest player of the 1990s, and were it not for numerous injuries that plagued him later in his career, he would have very likely passed Hank Aaron on the all-time home run list.  Griffey finished with 630 home runs, and was a 12-time all-star and 10-time Gold Glove award winner.  But in the last few seasons of his career, he changed physically, visibly gaining weight, as well as on the field, becoming a designated hitter rather than patrolling his usual center field territory with the Seattle Mariners.  It was rumored last season, before he retired, that he fell asleep in the clubhouse during a Mariners game.

But Griffey’s limitations were, in a way, refreshing to witness.  It was clear that time had caught up with the former superstar, and the myriad injuries that hindered him during his career showed that he is, indeed, human.  By 2009, it was clear that Griffey was in decline.  In 117 games for the Mariners that season, he hit just .214 with 57 RBI.  The Kid retired in 2010 after a storied big league career, leaving a legacy as one of the most beloved stars in baseball history—in Seattle and around the baseball world.

And then there’s Barry Bonds.

From 1986, when Bonds broke into the big leagues, through 1998 (the year before he allegedly began using steroids), he was an eight-time all-star, three-time National League MVP, seven-time Silver Slugger award-winner, and eight-time Gold Glove award winner.

Those are first ballot Hall of Fame numbers.

Then in 1999 things began to change.  Bonds body went through extraordinary changes.  He bulked up immensely, and his head, hands and feet appeared to have grown as well.  Before 1999, the most home runs Bonds had ever hit in a single season was 46 in 1993.  In 2000 he hit 49.  Then in 2001, he hit 73.  In that season, he only had 49 singles.  47% of his hits were homers, and 69% of hits were extra-base hits.  These numbers were mind-boggling, especially for a man who was now 37 years old.

How does a ballplayer who never hit more than 46 homers in a season in his 20s hit 73 when he was almost 40?  Well, we all know the story.

And it’s a sad one.  Baseball is a game for the common man, and it should be played by the common man—not one who has added artificial strength to excel past his peers in the sport.

In a strange way, we want to—no, we need to—see our heroes decline.  It shows us truth, and it shows us integrity and grace from those like Willie Mays and Ken Griffey, Jr., who played with what they naturally had.  They thrilled us with their natural abilities while in their prime, and we watched in sadness but with great respect and admiration when they struggled through their decline.

Outside of San Francisco, and perhaps even somewhere inside as well, there was no respect or admiration for what Bonds did.

He may have hit a lot of home runs.  But he did not give us what we wanted to see.

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The fate of Barry Bonds appears to be close at hand.

On Monday, Bonds’ former mistress, Kimberly Bell, recounted that the former Giants star told her in 1999 that he had taken steroids to recover from elbow surgery.

The next day, slugger Jason Giambi took the stand and stated that he had received a shipment of testosterone from Bonds trainer, Greg Anderson, in 2002. When asked by Assistant U.S. Attorney Jeffrey Nedrow if he understood what he had received was a steroid Giambi simply replied, “Yes.”

Wednesday, the prosecution called scientists from Qwest diagnostics to testify about the 2003 MLB series of drug tests, in which the Feds claims Bonds’ sample tested positive. It was damning evidence and it proved absolutely…nothing. Zilch.

Look, we all know by now that Barry Bonds is not a real nice guy. We didn’t necessarily need to hear the threatening, psychotic voicemails he left on Kimberly Bell’s answering machine to confirm that notion. Most of Bonds’ insecurity and surliness was already recounted in Mark Fainaru-Wada and Lance Williams’ excellent Game of Shadows.

We all know that Bonds is a former steroid user, as well. He already admitted to using them, albeit unknowingly, in his testimony to the BALCO grand jury. But that’s not the underlying basis of the US Government’s case against one Barry Lamar Bonds.

Bonds stands on trial for false statements he made to the BALCO grand jury, chief among them being that when Anderson administered the designer steroids known as the “cream” and the “clear” to him, Bonds was under the mistaken belief that he was ingesting flaxseed oil and arthritic balm.

In other words, the government must prove that when Barry Bonds said he didn’t know he was taking steroids, he actually did know he was taking steroids. The only two who can testify to Bonds’ knowledge are Bonds himself and Anderson, neither of which appear ready to talk.

What we, the viewing public, have received instead has been a steady stream of individuals testifying that they heard Bonds say he was using steroids, saw him disappear into a bathroom with Anderson and even how much the slugger’s testicles shrank. All of which proves nothing other than the fact that Barry Bonds is prone to disappear into bathrooms with friends and apparently has a size problem between his legs.

It’s impossible to prove that Bonds is lying when he says he didn’t know what he was taking unless he himself comes right out and admits it. Bell’s eye measurements regarding Bonds’ nether regions prove nothing other than it was probably a really cold day and simply because Giambi understood what he was taking, doesn’t necessarily mean Bonds did.

I know, that’s a ludicrous statement as the preponderance of the evidence indicates that not only was Bonds aware he was ingesting PEDs, but was actively involved in how they were administered.

But this is a criminal case and a preponderance of the evidence is not the standard under which the government must make its case.

The government must prove that Bonds lied beyond the shadow of a doubt, and that’s just not going to happen, which means that this entire courtroom circus is a monumental waste of time.

This entire case has become nothing more than an exercise in ruing an already tarnished reputation and seems aimed at nothing more than embarrassing Bonds and declaring a set of truths the entire world is already well aware of. That’d be fine and dandy if it didn’t cost so much taxpayer money.

According to most estimates, the government has already spent a staggering $50 million investigating and trying Bonds. Think about that for a second. $50 million to prove that 762 is not as significant as 755, and that, outside of Fisherman’s Wharf, 61 is still better than 73.

$50 dollars to prove that Bonds is a really, really big jerk. It’s such a waste of time and money and it’s fair to question just why the government is going through with it.

I mean really, let’s face it, was what Bonds did really that bad? It’s not as if he murdered anyone. He’s not a sex offender. Does he really deserve to be facing down a significant stretch of time in a federal penitentiary?

Some of you out there are screaming that he cheated the game, but let me ask you, does that really justify a stint in the slammer? In my opinion, what Bonds did pales in comparison to the actions of Shoeless Joe Jackson and the 1919 Black Sox who, you know, only threw a World Series and may have cavorted with members of organized crime.

There’s also the fact that the steroid scandal in baseball wasn’t merely isolated to Bonds and Anderson. It didn’t start and it certainly didn’t end with them. Sure, the games cleaner now that they’ve been exposed, but does any really doubt the ubiquity of PEDs in American Sports? More importantly, does anyone really care?

Admit it, you don’t really care about steroids in sports. The American public certainly doesn’t care, as baseball attendance has increased since the steroid scandal broke, and that bastion of steroid use, the NFL, is so wildly successful that those involved are threatening to kill an entire season because they can’t learn how to share the enormous revenue stream that game generates.

People don’t really care about steroids. What really raises their ire is the righteous indignation displayed by certain individuals who get caught.

It’s why A-Rod isn’t afraid to show his face off the diamond, it’s why Rodney Harrison can smile at us from the TV screen before Sunday Night Football and why Andy Pettite is still respected by the baseball establishment. They’re among those athletes who showed contrition when they were caught using.

It’s also why the public reacts with such vitriol when the name Barry Bonds is mentioned. He reacted with disbelief and maintained his innocence even as the evidence began to pile up. He lashed out at his accusers and taunted the media.

Remember how “tired” Bonds was of the accusations? It also doesn’t help that Bonds was and is renowned as being one of the biggest jerks in the history of sports. Who cares?

The government, apparently, because that seems to be the only reason why they’re pressing ahead with this case. He didn’t cower when confronted with the evidence and didn’t wet himself when confronted by super agent Jeff Novitzky and that seems to have really ticked off the Feds.

But being annoyed by Bonds’ defiance is not a sufficient basis for a fruitless criminal trial and it is fruitless because as already stated without Anderson’s testimony or a confession from Bonds the government has no case. They can’t prove he lied.

The government needs to cut its losses and declare defeat. We get it. He did it, we all know it, but they can’t prove he lied about it. So please, stop wasting our time and let this miserable cretin slink away to some gated mansion to live the rest of his life in ignominy. We’d all be better for it.

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The scars of MLB’s recent past are beginning to heal and fade. The Steroids Era is growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

It’s been over six years since Major League Baseball was first embarrassed on Capitol Hill in the “steroids hearings” of March 2005. Over three years have passed since the release of the Mitchell Report.

Despite the march of time, there are still a handful of retired MLB stars who, well, we simply wish would just go away—Jose Canseco and Roger Clemens among them.

These players, whether we liked them or not, earned headlines during their playing days for just that—playing the game of baseball and playing it very well.

Now, in retirement, they grab headlines from time to time for all of the wrong reasons—not only adding further public embarrassment to their already tarnished images but, often, also bringing further shame to a sport that is increasingly gaining momentum in distancing itself from a checkered recent past.

Can’t these guys just go away?

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There’s not much to say about Barry Bonds and the legal situation he’s wrapped up in. The former “best player in baseball” and current home run champ has been under the microscope of Congress since he claimed to never knowingly use steroids during his 22-year career.

This was back in 2003 and Bonds is finally facing four counts of perjury along with other charges some seven and half years later.

Former trainers, former mistresses and former teammates have emerged over the years as major players in the “Bonds Perjury Case.” Whether those key figures pose any threat to Bonds and his future engagements with Congress has yet to be seen.

It’s utterly sad that the career of a man who seemed to be the greatest hitter of all-time has publicly spiraled to the depths of the media. However, at this point, Bonds’ main concern is proving that what Congress is calling “the clear” and “the cream” was not knowingly consumed by the former San Francisco Giant.

The case, which will take place over the next week or so, is more or less a battle of he said, she said. Bonds has been cementing his argument that the anabolic steroids in which Congress strongly believes he voluntarily received, was nothing more than what he thought to be arthritis balm and flax seed oil.

One of the most prominent figures in the case is Bonds’ former trainer, Greg Anderson, who has strongly decided to stay silent time after time. Anderson’s role in the case, or for that matter his lack there of, has culminated into a battle of will. Having already served 14 months in prison, Anderson is prepared to keep his mouth shout and back Congress into a corner.

Anderson’s refusal to testify has more or less diminished any chance the government has in using steroid test results from the BALCO screenings a few years ago. Only Bonds’ former trainer can testify that the results were in fact from Bonds himself.

Therefore, no Anderson, no BALCO evidence. With no BALCO evidence, Congress has been forced to rely on key witnesses throughout Bonds’ career that have heard or had conversations with the former all-star about his “alleged” steroid use.

For now, it seems as if the government has its work cut out for them. They have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Bonds lied about knowingly taking steroids and that those lies impeded on their Congressional case against Major League Baseball.

As the defense is concerned, almost everybody involved in testifying against Bonds, could be viewed as “money hungry,” “publicity hunting” and “out to make a name” key witnesses. It will be extremely difficult for the prosecution to prove that Bonds lied. Without the BALCO test results and without Anderson, Congress with be forced to rely on oral accusations, which usually becomes a battle of hearsay.

Regardless of the outcome to this case, the legacy and lifetime achievements of one, Barry Bonds, will forever be tarnished. Will he find a way to be acquitted from all the charges?

Possibly, but Bonds will never be forgiven in the baseball community and in the eyes of the public. The life of Bonds has been publicized over the past 10 years, in and out of hatred, pushing the home run king to the front-line of the MLB‘s steroid scandal.

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It seems like an eternity since Major League Baseball finally got around to admitting it had a problem of the performance enhancing variety, but in reality it has barely been a half a decade.

Players once thought to be first-ballot Hall of Famers are struggling to garner more than a pittance of support from sports writers and fans alike as the sport carries on the best it can.

Attendance remains high—despite an ongoing quasi-recession—television revenue is streaming in and it appears that many of the measures taken by commissioner Bud Selig and his merry band of nitwits salvaged what little dignity this great sport had left in the wake of all that ugliness.

But alas, as always, looks can be deceiving.

I, for one, was more than a little bit surprised when MLB decided to include a ban on stimulants in its new drug program a few years back.

Now the use of uppers is neither new nor surprising in the baseball world, going back as far as the days of Willie Mays players have been using some form or another to endure the grueling demands of the 162-game season.

While steroids, and their artificial augmentation of baseball’s favorite play, the longball, have received most of the mainstream media coverage, anyone who really knows two shits about baseball recognizes that “greenies” have always been a much more pervasive part of the game.

Countless stories of large Ronald Reagan-esque like jars filled with amphetamines (as opposed to Ronnie’s trademark jellybeans) and pots of coffee labeled “extra-caffeinated” could be found without much effort at all.

A baseball season is a long & grueling one, after all. 162 games, packed into about 180 days, taking players, coaches and fans through a hot and humid summer can wear down even the best of men.  So for decades players have turned to “artificial means” to carry them through the dog days of summer.

I told more than one friend that it would be interesting to see who “faded down the stretch” and chuckled at the sudden emergence of energy drinks as sponsors for the big league clubs.

But I never could have imagined the thing that would catch my eye exactly one year later…and every year since.

When the league banned these drugs, an amazing thing happened. The number of players claiming and obtaining “therapeutic use” exemptions for stimulants nearly quadrupled from 28 to 103.

“Therapeutic use” means you can justifiably use the drug because you need it for a medical condition. If you didn’t have the condition, you’d just be a normal pro baseball player, and the attention-focusing benefits of Ritalin would be a form of “enhancement,” i.e., cheating.

Before the ban only 28 players had “therapeutic use exemptions” allowing them to take drugs such as Ritalin or Adderall.  Twenty-eight.  Then somehow magically that number jumps to over 100 as soon as the ban kicks in?

Color me suspicious but do they really think we are that dumb?

I mean how the hell can ADHD multiply fourfold in a sport in a single year? How can it become three times as prevalent in that sport as in the adult population? Is it contagious? Can Derek Jeter give it to Dustin Pedroia if he coughs on him as he slides into second base?  Of course not.

ADHD is a psychological diagnosis. Like post-traumatic stress disorder or bipolar disorder it’s open to interpretation in any given patient. Three doctors may say you don’t have it. A fourth may say you do.

It’s that subjectivity that should have led to the league having a more discerning eye. After all they had literally just caught the foxes trying to rob the hen house when they found over 100 major leagues had tested positive in their last round of anonymous testing.

MLB should have also taken notice of what pretty much EVERYONE else had when these numbers were first published, namely that among adults, the rate of diagnosis is between 1 percent and 3.5 percent. But among pro baseball players, the disease seems epidemic.  That means 8 percent of major-league players have ADHD—twice the rate among children and three to eight times the rate among adults.

But, of course, they didn’t.

They argue that once the number spiked up to 103 it “plateaued” and has remained at or about that same level since.  This is true, the numbers show there were 105 therapeutic use exemptions in 2010, up from 106 TUEs in 2008/2009 and 103 in 2007, but it still doesn’t address why there was such a sharp rise in the first place.

But then again, do we really expect more from Bud the Dud?

The World Anti-Doping Agency sure as hell doesn’t:

“My reaction is the same as last year and the year before that,” said Dr. Gary Wadler, chairman of the committee that determines the banned substances list for the World Anti-Doping Agency. “It seems to me almost incomprehensible that ADHD is so pervasive in baseball to a degree that it requires medicine.”

A frequent critic of baseball’s drug-testing program, Wadler said “these numbers really cry out for transparency in the TUE process in baseball — a good look-see at the process, not just the numbers.”

This ostrich-like ability of Selig’s, where he is able to shove his head in the sand for unnaturally long periods of time has long infuriated me frankly.

I only wish I could have been a fly-on-the-wall in the offices of Major League Baseball when the recent divorce proceedings of Kansas City Royals catcher Jason Kendall and his estranged wife Chantel have remained frequent fodder for internet gossip sites like TMZ and RadarOnline and even recently made the jump to websites not concerned with the latest atrocious parenting of Jon and Kate Gosselin.

While professional athletes ditching gold digging trophy wives is no novel concept, this one had steamy particulars involving the love triangle of a pro athlete, a smokin’ hot babe and the son of a rock-n-roll legend (Chantel is currently dating Sean Stewart, son of Rod Stewart).

The focus of the tittle-tattle involved Chantel accusing her husband of abusing the drug Adderall, which subsequently led to him both physically and emotionally abusing her.

Aside from accusations that he urinated & defecated on a pile of Chantel’s clothes after finding out she had been cheating on him, she claimed that he received a spurious prescription to take what is now labeled a performance enhancing drug otherwise banned by Major League Baseball.

While Kendall refused to answer the judge’s question about his use of greenies under the argument that (I. shit. you. not) Mark McGwire didn’t have to answer the questions he was asked in court about PEDs, he was very forthcoming about his prescription drug habits and more than willing to toss former teammates Brian Giles and Bobby Crosby under the bus, implicating them as fellow Adderall appreciators in court depositions.

One has to think that Bud was running around Manhattan looking for a schoolyard sandbox the shove his head in the moment he caught wind of these proceedings.

I am sure Selig is a good man. It appears he has a passion for baseball, and genuinely wants to do the right thing to help the sport.  But there is a problem—he is gutless.

For years he ignored steroids in baseball while the problem grew out of control.  Despite many fans knowing certain players were on steroids, even going back to the 1980s (for an example, a 1988 Fenway Park crowd chanted “Ster-oids” at Jose Canseco), Selig in February of 2005 said, with a straight face:

“I never heard about it.  I ran a team and nobody was closer to their players and I never heard any comment from them.  It wasn’t until 1998 or ’99 that I heard the discussion…I don’t know if there were allegations in the early 90s.  I never heard them.”

I remember reading those comments and thinking either this man is absolutely lying, or he is completely incompetent and oblivious.  Maybe it is a little of both, but either way, this man should not be allowed to run major league baseball.

Further, even if taken at face value, if Selig knew about steroids in 1998 or ’99, why did it take him until 2005 to take any action, and only after Congress forced him into it.

Sadly, I fully expect this same sort of blissful ignorance to plague Selig’s handling of this next round of PEDs in baseball.

Just as stories about players juicing were swept under the rug because of increasing television ratings and attendance due to historical records falling every year, this dirty little secret will go on flying under the radar.

Instead of looking out for the interest and integrity of the game, Selig will gladly keep trading it  away, piece by piece, for an increased revenue stream.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;

The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,

And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;

But there is no joy in baseball — the sport’s integrity is quickly running out.

This article is also featured on The Rantings & Ravings Of A (Formerly) Mad Mailman.

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