Baseball’s day of shame puts onus on fans

Whatever your reaction today — anger, indifference, acknowledgment, bragging to your buddies you knew all along Greg Maddux was the cleanest pitcher of his time — don’t allow for any level of shock.

Twenty months and more than 300 pages later, nothing about baseball’s disgraceful steroids era so directly summarized in the Mitchell Report on Thursday should astonish even the most dispassionate fan.

If you’re amazed at any of it, you probably still believe the Tour de France is a clean race. Or haven’t seen Barry Bonds’ head lately.

Thursday ultimately was about you. To what extent you will continue following baseball. How you will regard its players. Whether any of the findings released by George Mitchell might permanently stain your perception of the game, or if such a personal verdict was reached long ago. In what ways you can use baseball’s latest day of shame as a teaching tool for children, to remind them there is no section of life where some won’t cheat to gain a competitive advantage.

It’s pretty straightforward: How much does this matter to you?

I am guessing the pendulum of attitude swings far and wide, that many have accepted the vast use of illegal drugs by players and yet still endorse baseball out of some idealistic sense of loyalty to a game they played and grew to love as a child. No one does apathy like Americans when it comes to absolving the transgressions of our sporting icons, and even the Todd Pratts of the world.

Others surely won’t be as sympathetic, pledging never again to wear that Roger Clemens jersey. But even now, nothing seems all that extraordinary, other than the idea of Nook Logan juiced up. Mostly, we have become numb to corroboration of cheating on any level (assumed or otherwise), which is the saddest part of all.

"The principle goal of this infestation is to bring to a close this troubled chapter in baseball’s history," Mitchell said. "And to use the lessons learned in the past to prevent the future use of such substances. All efforts should now be directed to the future."

It’s a good point. Names made Thursday so intriguing. Not testimony from strength coaches or copies of personal checks used to allegedly purchase steroids or Human Growth Hormone from a clubhouse attendant. Not learning guys named Kirk Radomski and Brian McNamee flipped on others at the first sight of federal badges.

Names such as Clemens. Bonds. Miguel Tejada. Andy Pettitte. Jason Giambi. Gary Sheffield. Paul Lo Duca. Eric Gagne. Baseball’s own version of "National Enquirer" theater.

But how history eventually judges those nearly 80 players (including seven Most Valuable Players and at least one All-Star at each position) mentioned in the report as having some link to performance-enhancing substances isn’t the most critical point today, nor is whether numerous Hall of Fame voters ultimately include players such as Bonds and Clemens in the same barred category as Mark McGwire.

It is how the hundreds of thousands of high school athletes mentioned by Mitchell for also using steroids and HGH react. How this report and any fallout from it affects even younger and more impressionable minds.

At best, the findings should produce a universal pledge throughout baseball to spend any amount of money and investigate any alleged involvement (however minute) with illegal drugs so that no such predicament touches the game or those who will form its future.

At worst, a separate inquiry should be made to understand how so many dead-flat average players didn’t benefit from using.

"(Mitchell’s) report is a call to action," baseball commissioner Bud Selig said. "And I will act."

His boldness seems so feeble now. Everyone whiffed on identifying and accepting this crisis years ago, long before any former Senate majority leader was asked to uncover all the dirt he could with limited power. Those who run the game swung and missed. The media who cover it did as well.

Now everyone has an opinion about it.

Congress will hold more meetings. Players such as Clemens will deny any wrongdoing through carefully worded statements. Selig will consider disciplinary action. Legacies and reputations will be soiled. CEOs of Fortune 500 companies will give up their jobs to make more money as clubhouse attendants. Many will paint the report itself as a soft and insignificant journal of hearsay, dominated by players considered more stiffs than stars.

Nothing about Thursday should surprise you, though.

Not one word in more than 400 pages.

Ed Graney can be reached at 383-4618 or egraney@reviewjournal.com.

Whatever your reaction today — acknowledgment, anger, indifference, bragging to your buddies you knew all along Greg Maddux was the cleanest pitcher of his time — don’t allow for any level of shock.

Twenty months and more than 300 pages later, nothing about baseball’s disgraceful steroids era so directly summarized in the Mitchell Report on Thursday should astonish even the most dispassionate fan.

If you’re amazed at any of it, you probably still believe the Tour de France is a clean race. Or haven’t seen Barry Bonds’ head lately.

This is whom Thursday was ultimately about. You. To what extent you will continue following baseball. How you will regard its players. Whether any of the findings released by George Mitchell might permanently stain your perception of the game, or if such a personal verdict was reached long ago. In what ways you can use baseball’s latest day of shame as a teaching tool for children, to remind them there is no section of life where some won’t cheat to gain a competitive advantage.

It’s pretty straightforward: How much does this really matter to you?

I am guessing the pendulum of attitude swings far and wide, that many have accepted the vast use of illegal drugs by players and yet still endorse baseball out of some idealistic sense of loyalty to a game they played and grew to love as a child. No one does apathy like Americans when it comes to absolving the transgressions of our sporting icons, and even the Todd Pratts of the world.

Others surely won’t be as sympathetic, pledging never again to wear that Roger Clemens jersey. But even now, nothing seems all that extraordinary, other than the idea of Nook Logan juiced up. Mostly, we have become numb to corroboration of cheating on any level (assumed or otherwise), which is the saddest part of all.

"The principle goal of this infestation is to bring to a close this troubled chapter in baseball’s history," Mitchell said. "And to use the lessons learned in the past to prevent the future use of such substances. All efforts should now be directed to the future."

It’s a good point. Names made Thursday so intriguing. Not testimony from strength coaches or copies of personal checks used to allegedly purchase steroids or Human Growth Hormone from a clubhouse attendant. Not learning guys named Kirk Radomski and Brian McNamee flipped on others at the first sight of federal badges.

Names like Clemens. Bonds. Miguel Tejada. Andy Pettitte. Jason Giambi. Gary Sheffield. Paul Lo Duca. Eric Gagne. Baseball’s own little version of "National Enquirer" theater.

But how history eventually judges those nearly 80 players (including seven MVPs and at least one All-Star at each position) mentioned in the report as having some link to performance enhancing substances isn’t the most critical point today, nor is whether numerous Hall of Fame voters ultimately include players like Bonds and Clemens in the same barred category as Mark McGwire.

It is how the hundreds of thousands of high school athletes mentioned by Mitchell for also using steroids and HGH react. How even younger and more impressionable minds are affected by this report and any fallout from it.

At best, the findings should produce a universal pledge throughout baseball to spend any amount of money and investigate any alleged involvement (however minute) with illegal drugs so that no such predicament touches the game or those who will form its future.

At worst, a separate inquiry should be made to understand how so many dead-flat average players didn’t benefit from using.

"(Mitchell’s) report is a call to action," said baseball commissioner Bud Selig said. "And I will act."

His boldness seems so feeble now. Everyone whiffed on identifying and accepting this crisis years ago, long before any former Senate majority leader was asked to uncover all the dirt he could with limited power. Those who run the game swung and missed. The media who covers it did as well. Now everyone has an opinion about it.

Congress will hold more meetings. Players like Clemens will deny any wrongdoing through carefully worded statements. Selig will consider disciplinary action. Legacies and reputations will be soiled. CEOs of Fortune 500 companies will give up their jobs to make more money as clubhouse attendants. Many will paint the report itself as a soft and insignificant journal of hearsay, dominated by players considered more stiffs than stars.

Nothing about Thursday should surprise you, though.

Not one word in more than 300 pages.

Ed Graney can be reached at 383-4618 or egraney@reviewjournal.com