The Steroid Storm: Plausible Denial?

Now a picture is taking shape in baseball that makes sense of the decade since the 1994 strike. The power surge, the nagging injuries, the disappearances of Ruben Sierra and Julio Franco have all been puzzle pieces. Rafael Palmeiro's positive steroid test, coming on the heels of his 3,000th hit, is like Vanna White turning around the letter that you need. Now we see the word: C-H-E-A-T-E-R-S.

The faithful have maintained that Barry Bonds could have used legitimate weight training techniques to transform himself from a 35-home run hitter to a 70-home run colossus. They have defended Sammy Sosa, who began his career as a wiry White Sox, but captured America's hearts as a crushing Cub. Then came Raffy's dirty sample. A player who, in over 500 at bats in 1988, 1989, and 1990, produced 8, 8, and 14 homers respectively. In 2001, this man belted 47 home runs.

Now the whole 2001 season is called into question as MLB was not testing for anabolic steroids then, and Barry Bonds hit an uncharacteristic 73 round-trippers. Barry Bonds? Where was he during the Mark McGwire/Sosa duel that held America's attention during the summer of '98? Bret Boone (now out of the game at 36), Luis Gonzalez, Brady Anderson. They're all under suspicion now, and rightfully so. All three, out of the clear blue homerless sky, posted season statistics worthy of Mickey Mantle or Jimmy Foxx.

LuGo's 57 homers came in 2001. Boone's 141 RBI? You guessed it, 2001. Commissioner Bud Selig sat on his hands, not introducing a steroid testing policy because the fans had come back to the national pastime, largely drawn by the longball (chicks dig it).

Even with players getting caught now, the drug policy is still a joke. It's a microcosm of the U.S.'s supposed war on drugs. MLB still doesn't test for human growth hormone (if the exposed cheaters were smarter, they'd have used that instead).

Palmeiro cries that he can't discuss the nature of his offense due to lawyer-client confidentially. No, Raffy, that means your attorney, and the Players' Union can't disclose anything. The confidentiality is to protect you. You can say anything you want — and if you really wished to help other players and youngsters as you said in your shameful, attorney-written appeal to Baltimore sports talk radio, you'd say, "Hey, guys and kids, if your coach or some street dealer tells you (fill in the blank name for the supplement) is clean, it's not. Avoid it like the plague."

It remains to be seen how this will play out. Already, Barry Bonds is saying his knees are too bad to return this season (another puzzle piece — Mark McGwire succumbed to bad knees). Arthritic knees are symptomatic of a body straining under all the weight one's frame was not designed to carry. And did you ever wonder why, in the 1990's, Julio Franco and Ruben Sierra fell off the face of the earth, only to return a few seasons ago? They were power hitters 12 years ago. Juan Gonzalez hasn't played 140 games since 2001. Were he healthy, he'd have 600 home runs, rather than his 434.

Baseball, more than any team sport, offers a standardized yardstick of performance. The 162-game season reveals both strengths and weaknesses. It is not a sport that lends itself to overnight change. Ken Griffey, Jr., Albert Pujols, and Alfonso Soriano came into the majors hitting for power. We all knew what Cecil Fielder could do, as we did with Reggie Jackson, who hit 47 homers when he was 23 (31 of them by the 1969 All-Star Break). The incredible hulks of the 1990s weren't credible after all.

Palmeiro asks us what he would have had to gain by risking it all during his milestone season? Well, looking back, in May, he was batting under .220, with a homer and 9 RBI. The Orioles were loaded with hitters who could have replaced him. The club was playing well. What he had to gain was not being benched in a year where 3,000 was in sight. The most likely steroid suspects are aging vets and marginal players — both trying to hang on and produce.

It's coming into focus, and the picture is ugly. Look at the players' defenses: Sammy didn't know what was in his bat. Bonds, Gary Sheffield, and Palmeiro didn't know what they were putting in their bodies. C'mon. High school athletes know everything they put into their bodies, and what it does. Weight lifters and weekend warriors read fitness magazines and shop at GNC. A lot of these guys are not only dishonest, perhaps even before Congress, but they appear to be unwise.

Some take the fans and media for fools. Their short-term statistical gains all go out the window now. What must Hank Aaron be thinking? Even if Bonds returns in 2006, what will we all think? Cheaters can run, but they can't hide from random tests.