Birth of the Steroid/Asterisk
It was 1974. I watched number 715? I can remember watching Hank Aaron break Babe Ruth’s record. I was in a basement in Illinois. I was watching it with my father and grandfather and some of the locals. Al Downing released the ball and Hammerin’ Hank drove it into the Atlanta sky. As Tom House caught the ball I remember the thrill that rushed through me. Wow… history!
And then there was a voice. Someone in the room blurted out a racist comment. I clearly remember feeling a sense of disappointment at the comment and why… why did that guy stain the moment? I froze. Why did no one speak up? Why did we all act like it never happened and look the other way? I was fifteen years old.
Yes, I saw number 715. And from that day on I wore number 44. Partly to honor the accomplishment the greatest home run hitter of all time. And partly in protest of the dirty comment that still rings in my head. I wore 44 as a way of making amends for my father and grandfather and for all those who heard the racist comment and said nothing and looked the other way.
Coming from a family of baseball lovers, I guess it is only natural that I feel a strong sense of honor surrounds the game of baseball. And in my youth an obsession with statistics and history became a big part of honoring the game. Time passed and I grew older and slightly wiser but numbers still reflected history and they mattered.
Post Strike -- Home Runs Go Boom
When the records were broken by Mark McGwire and Barry Bonds I was as excited as the next guy. Sure, like all the announcers were saying, the ball was juiced and the stadiums were small but the playing field was balanced and fair. Everyone played on the same field and with the same ball. The game was healthy. America’s pastime thrived. Baseball was back
Then I read a book. Actually I read two books. One was called Juicing the Game and the other was called Game of Shadows…
I was stunned.
The ball wasn’t juiced. The players were!
The Realization
Today I am sufficiently convinced, like many other baseball fans, that there were players who decided to secretly take advantage of an illegal drug to enhance their performance. Now I could go into all the reasons this is wrong but that discussion has been had and at the end of the day either you agree or you don’t.
As time passed I watched ESPN and other baseball broadcasts in hopes of hearing that the statistics of the steroid era must be taken with a grain of salt. I waited to hear that there is integrity in obeying rules and that those who cheat will, in the end, not prevail. I waited for the truth. But to my surprise I heard mostly silence. Nothing. Crickets.
There they were, the same baseball announcers and ex-ballplayers who were so verbose about juiced baseballs and shrinking ballparks. Those same talking heads that went on and on about… where does the mud that baseballs are rubbed down with came from? Where were the balls made? Corked bats! And now those television talking heads were silent. Like the people in that basement back in Illinois. I waited for them to talk about the stain that had been placed on the game. I waited for a voice in the wilderness to stand up and say…”this is wrong”. And what I heard was silence. Even today ESPN and FOX baseball voices only apologetically cover the issue of the steroid era. And the Clemens issue has only made them more defensive.
Off in the wilderness, on HBO, one brave soul spoke up. Bob Costas took on the challenge with aplomb. But overall dissenting voices were muted. Just watch highlights of Barry Bonds and the Giants play on the road. There is no serious coverage of how baseball fans really feel. There is no voice from the stands. And if Clemens comes back will we get to hear the voices in the stands, or will they be muted as well. Muted. Like in that basement back in Illinois.
A Fan Tries To Speak Out
I am blessed with a wife who loves baseball as much as I do and we enjoy the game on every level. And even though she is a Dodger fan I still love her. She knows I am a Cub fan and she loves me too. She understands that to be a Cub fan one must have an even deeper love… a love for baseball. A century of losing puts winning in perspective and one comes to terms with the simple fact that, in the end, it is the game that we love.
And with that love for baseball comes a love of history and statistics. So when I began to consider the effect the steroid era had on statistics I began to feel despair. The integrity of the game I loved had been smudged at least. The statistics were thrown askew and most of all, those that covered the game on TV were essentially apologizing for what had become this “unfortunate set of circumstances.” They were effectively “looking the other way”.
As I asked around I found that most true baseball fans were feeling the way I was. Were we going to look the other way too? What could we do? And that’s when I struck upon an idea…
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