INT - LACUNA, INC. The office of renowned DR. HOWARD MIERZWIAK, who, after years of dedicated research, has developed a cutting-edge, non-surgical procedure for the focused erasure of troubling memories. Mierzwiak, who bears a striking resemblance to actor Tom Wilkinson from that movie with Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet, sits at his desk. The door to his office swings open revealing an older gentleman in a Washington Nationals uniform. He is FRANK ROBINSON, a baseball Hall of Famer. A pained look hangs on his face, crushed under the weight of memories he'd rather no longer have.
MIERZWIAK: Please, sit down, Mr. Robinson. I've reviewed your file, and I must say you certainly are a perfect candidate for Lacuna's focused erasure of troubling memories.
ROBINSON: Good to hear that, Doc. I just don't want these memories any more, knowing what I know now.
MIERZWIAK: Oh, I agree. Anyone who managed Cal Ripken, Jr. for four seasons and but only had a .447 winning percentage must be practically begging for memory erasure...
ROBINSON: ...uh, Doc, that's not exactly why I'm here.
MIERZWIAK: Oh, I see. What about the last three years of your playing career with Cleveland, where you slummed as a DH and couldn't hit over .245?
ROBINSON: Strike two, Doc. Let me cut to the chase: I want to wipe out all of Rafael Palmeiro's records.
MIERZWIAK: From your memory?
ROBINSON: Well, yeah. And from the record book.
MIERZWIAK: Is there actually one official Record Book?
ROBINSON: No. It's more of a metaphor for the entire fabric of baseball's rich history, woven through the decades by some of the most legendary figures in American sports and popular culture. Besides, if there really were one official Record Book, Bud Selig would have pimped its naming rights to Pepsi or Viagra by now.
MIERZWIAK: I see. Is there a specific reason for wanting Rafael Palmeiro's records erased?
ROBINSON: As I told the media the other day: "He was found to have used steroids, and he served a 10-day suspension. I was surprised and taken aback that he was using steroids, because I never thought about him being a person that might be a steroids user. I always admired him for the way he went about his work, the way he performed on the field and the way he conducted himself off the field."
MIERZWIAK: Ah, yes, steroids. Glad there wasn't anything like that back when you were playing.
ROBINSON: If there was, we sure as heck wouldn't have taken them. That's cheating.
MIERZWIAK: Right ... just like corked bats or spitballs or using an Emory board to illegally alter the official equipment used in the game. Say, how far away from your plaque in Cooperstown are Gaylord Perry's and Phil Niekro's?
ROBINSON: What are you getting at, Doc?
MIERZWIAK: Oh, never mind. I should inform you, Mr. Robinson, that this is a very intense procedure. Literally, we inflict damage on your brain.
ROBINSON: I've managed Jack Clark and Jose Mesa. I've seen damaged brains before.
MIERZWIAK: Indeed. This procedure isn't dangerous per se, but it's certainly nothing to sneeze at. Before we get into specifics, can you tell me exactly from which point you'd like to begin wiping out Rafael Palmeiro's records?
ROBINSON: Like I said, from the beginning. Like I told the media the other day: "Where do you go back, stop and say, 'OK, when did he started using steroids?' To eliminate all that, and get the players' attention, you wipe the whole thing out. Why put the burden on baseball to try and figure out where to go, and maybe put an asterisk? Just wipe the whole thing out."
MIERZWIAK: I must tell you, Mr. Robinson, that this seems a bit ... impulsive.
ROBINSON: How so?
MIERZWIAK: I just don't think you've thought through the ramifications of this decision. You see, the mind is like a map. One path leads to another, which leads to another, which leads to another, which leads to a specific memory. To delete the memory, you must also delete the path to that memory, right to the emotional core, or else you run the risk of a relapse.
ROBINSON: What are you getting at, Doc?
MIERZWIAK: From a practical sense, erasing all of Rafael Palmeiro's records, from the start of his career to the end, would cause an unstoppable chain reaction that would alter the very history of Major League Baseball forever. Do you know what happened on June 9, 1996?
ROBINSON: Oh, man, was that one of the days I got fired? Or was that the day some kid mistook me for John Thompson?
MIERZWIAK: Surprisingly enough, no. It was a game between the White Sox and the Orioles at Camden Yards. Palmeiro had four hits and three RBI. Now, take away those hits and those RBI from that game. All of a sudden you've changed the RBI standings for the 1996 season, in which Palmeiro was fourth. Erase his hits and RBI for the entire season. How many times do you think Roberto Alomar scored hitting in front of Palmeiro? In 1996, he was tied for third in the American League with 132 runs. But if Palmeiro never had a hit that season, then he never hit home a runner. Thus, Alomar never scored. So his runs total drops to, what, 60 for the season?
Not to mention the ERAs of the pitchers who gave up runs to Palmeiro. You'd have to alter their stats, as well, because the runs they surrendered no longer exist. And you'd have to do this for every pitcher in every season that gave up a single run, a single hit, or even a walk to Palmeiro. Hell, you'd even have to adjust their pitch totals, because technically they were throwing to a player that never played in the game.
ROBINSON: Hold on a second here, Doc. You're making this a hell of a lot more complicated than it needs to be. It's like a horse race where the first-place horse gets disqualified. It's not like the horse never existed. It's just in the record book that it didn't win, place or show.
MIERZWIAK: And what happens to the other horses, the ones that finished behind the disqualified horse? They all move up, that's what. The same idea applies here, Mr. Robinson. It's a chain reaction — wipe out the records of one player, and it should affect every other record kept during that time period. Can you imagine the lawsuit baseball would face if it didn't adjust all the players whose numbers were influenced by that proven cheater?
ROBINSON: What about when Jose Canseco admitted steroid use, and Mike Greenwell sued to become the 1988 AL MVP award, which Canseco won? Everyone had a chuckle, and then went on with their lives.
MIERZWIAK: The difference, Mr. Robinson, is that wiping out all of Rafael Palmeiro's records would mean Major League Baseball acknowledging the fact that he cheated throughout his entire career, from rookie to retirement. This isn't Madonna's Cuban cabana boy admitting he dabbled in steroids for a few seasons. This is the governing body of a professional sports league telling everyone that one of its players no longer exists statistically.
Look, Mr. Robinson, here's the deal. I'd love to help you wipe out all of Rafael Palmeiro's records, I really would. But it's just not as easy as it sounds. And what about when the next player gets caught, and the next after that? You'd need a NASA supercomputer working around the clock for 25 years just to compute the "new" pitching stats. Quite frankly, I don't think the Elias Sports Bureau has that kind of budget.
ROBINSON: I don't care, Doc. Just erase every memory of that young man's career from my brain.
MIERZWIAK: This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that Rafael Palmeiro is most likely going to pass you on the all-time home run list, having hit 569 to your 586 through August 23?
ROBINSON: Of course not. Except for the fact HE'S A CHEATIN' NO GOOD LYING S.O.B. WHOSE STEROID ENGOURGED HANDS COULDN'T HOLD MY JOCK! Except for that.
MIERZWIAK: I see. Well, I'm still not sure this is the best idea.
ROBINSON: I'll have you know that no less an authority as Boston Red Sox star Curt Schilling agrees with me. And I consider that man an American hero after what he did in the ALCS last season.
MIERZWIAK: There was an ALCS last season?
(Frank Robinson glances over and sees a New York Yankees pennant hanging above a framed picture of Mariano Rivera.)
ROBINSON: Gotcha, Doc. Out of mind, out of sight.
Greg Wyshynski is the Features Editor for SportsFan Magazine in Washington, DC, and the Senior Sports Editor for The Connection Newspapers of Northern Virginia. His book “Glow Pucks and 10-Cent Beer: The 101 Worst Ideas in Sports History" will be published in Spring 2006. His columns appear every Saturday on Sports Central. You can e-mail Greg at [email protected].
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