The real boys of summer are emerging from winter hibernation all across America, pounding their fists into stiff baseball gloves and asking dad to take them to the batting cage. Soon they will dot fields that are not yet green, laughing easily amidst the clink of aluminum and the smack of leather, creating a genuine American symphony. This is the sound we should pipe into outer space to explain America to anyone who might be listening.
The sound that came from yesterday’s hearings on steroid use in baseball was quite different. That sound–voices of denial, self-importance, and sadness— was not about baseball, but a cacaphony of distortion. This act has been in the making for some time, since steroids first became part of baseball’s tapestry, as unbreakable records were broken and re-broken. It grew on the fuel of rumor and tell-all books, but it still needed the grandiosity of ponderous government types to reach it’s final, absurd culmination.
The fraternity of baseball closed ranks yesterday; basically told America that they did not inhale. This is really all you need to know. Sure, there was manufactured earnestness and tears, but we should not misunderstand: a “Keep Out” sign went up on the locker room of America’s past time. The ballplayers called to testify before Congress abdicated accountability and claimed the high ground, above the law, with slithery lawyers whispering in their ear. The only thing yesterday’s hearings lacked was Jack Nicholson screaming, “You can’t handle the truth!”
Mark McGwire, the liar formerly known as a baseball hero, was evidently counseled that a charade of integrity was better than the pain of honesty. He clung pathetically to a reputation of generosity that now means nothing, even held it up shamelessly as evidence of his nobility while his cracking voice belied the truth: he’d used steroids. The same pride and ego that drove him to thrust needles in his flesh was still there, just more thoughtful and empathetic in round eyeglasses. On the heels of the lesson delivered to the youth of America by the Giambi Doctrine — that money was more important than integrity– came the McGwire Corollary– one’s place in history is more important than integrity too.
Mark McGwire wants to lead the charge against steroid abuse, and his punishment should be that he isn’t allowed to. Isn’t allowed near a high-school, a college, or a baseball field. Until Mark McGwire stops speaking in contradictions and owns whatever he has done, he lacks the credibility to be part of the solution.
And there was Curt Schilling, who provided a jaw-dropping exhibition in succumbing to peer pressure. The man who glibly told Sports Illustrated that steroid use was so rampant that he couldn’t pat teammates on the behind without inflicting pain suddenly spoke like a man who had been re-programmed. “I grossly over-stated it,” he said, as if his previous comments were the result of an abduction by aliens to a steroid-abusing planet. Then, in an effort to redeem himself among ballplayers for his brief and tragic lapse of honesty, he took pot shots at Jose Canseco, the true Judas. Curt Schilling had a brilliant opportunity to finally deliver on the image he’s been trying to cram down our throats for years. Yet, when push came to shove, he lacked the spine to do it.
The avoidance of accountability by men in expensive suits went on all afternoon. It would have been bad enough that the ballplayers flatly denied the allegations. But they then induced widespread retching with pathetic attempts to salvage their reputations with uninspired promises.
And what about the fans? You only need to listen briefly to sports radio, or read sports message boards, to understand that much of the public is the co-dependent partner in baseball’s denial problem. We pay high prices to sustain high salaries, have high expectations and demand high performance. Perhaps we really can’t handle the truth, because it’s somewhat of our own making.
This drama will be sustained. Rules will be re-written, allegations made, more hearings held. TV Movies will be made. Men and women will rise up to speak in large groups, look into cameras as cameras whir and whiz, and tell us what they think. And the boys of summer will watch, listen and learn.
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