Let me be clear that, when all is said and done, I feel no sorrow for steroid users as they deal with the fallout of their actions. If you don’t want to deal with the unpleasant consequences—both foreseen and unforeseen—then don’t take steroids. It’s pretty simple. But, on the other hand, I always felt rather uncomfortable with the most extreme version of that sort of sentiment. This is the version most often invoked in discussions of civil rights, perhaps less often in the area of sports, that says that law-abiding citizens should stand for all manner of interference by authorities on the grounds that an innocent person would have “nothing to fear” from such scrutiny. Yeah, right. So maybe it’s a little bit in that spirit that the whole A-Rod thing doesn’t sit entirely well with me.
Now, for starters, A-Rod has long acted the idiot and has, by his actions, ruined any public goodwill and thus any chance that he might be given the benefit of the doubt or that he might be welcomed with forgiving arms were he to confess—though the level of hatred directed at him in some corners suggests a degree of obsession with A-Rod not unlike the degree of obsession he is often accused of directing toward Derek Jeter. And yes, in the end he has only himself to blame for his decision to take steroids. So I won’t be writing A-Rod notes of support anytime soon.
However, one must recall that baseball’s crackdown on steroids began when the players agreed to be tested anonymously in 2003, with the understanding that a new drug policy would kick in if 5% or greater were to test positive. By that time, the league was in serious risk of losing public opinion just a few years after they had regained it, post-strike. If they don’t agree to that testing, a protracted legal battle probably follows, and who knows where we’d be at in getting back to the business of focusing on the actual game of baseball. I don’t think anyone believes that the problem has been completely dealt with, and it’s likely that the last 10 or so years will never fully emerge from the haze of steroids. But the current level of trust in the game is markedly higher than it would be had the new policy not been implemented.
As big a believer as I am in not taking steroids, I’m an equally big believer in keeping your word. No one denies that the 2003 testing was ultimately in the best interests of the game, and that testing was completed based on certain agreements that have now been violated. The whole reason why the players feared that testing in the first place has now been realized. And exactly how likely does that now make cooperation on future efforts to improve the integrity of the game?
I do realize that the leaks are coming from federal investigators, not from the MLB powers that be. However, the federal investigators got the information by obtaining two lists that, when read together, match each urine cup to each player. If the league’s big smart idea to keep the results confidential was to have two lists in two separate locations…well, boy. Is there anyone out there who actually believed that would be a 100% effective safeguard in this age of subpoenas and “unnamed sources”?
I guess I have to ask why they needed to keep the names on file at all. Why couldn’t they just collect the tests in groups of 10 or 20 or whatever, mark them with numbers, and be done with it? All the testing needed to ascertain was whether or not 5% of the players used steroids—did it make a difference which 5% it was? The league wanted to have their cake and eat it too, gaining the needed cooperation by promising anonymity in the initial testing process and then turning around and naming names in the Mitchell Report. I’m personally not against the naming of names. Even if they had actually received that promised anonymity in one initial testing, that still doesn’t mean that everyone with knowledge of your actions is prohibited from ever speaking out, or that other evidence of your misdeeds will never come to light. I can’t feel bad for any player dumb enough to think that his secret was safe with, well, anyone.
Yet the slippery way in which this whole thing was handled is, increasingly, making me uncomfortable. It’s like on those legal shows where improperly obtained evidence gets excluded even if the accused is obviously guilty. Getting that guilty verdict is not so important that rules of fairness and standards of conduct are thrown out the window.
Rather than name all 104 names, as some are now suggesting, I’d be all for destroying the entire list. And yes, with the list now in the government’s hands, that ain’t happening. But it still strikes me as the fairest thing to do. If the other 103 are as dumb as they seem to be, I’m sure that there’s more evenhanded ways to bring their identities to light.