The Average Guy: A-Rod's admission signals death of MLB
Jared Dyrdahl
Issue date: 2/18/09 Section: Sports
During this past week I realized that my two pets and Major League Baseball (MLB) had something terrible in common: they both died. While most of you were probably not aware of the passing of my platys Martha and Agnes, you probably did witness the death of MLB that came early in the week when Alex Rodriguez (A-Rod) stated that he did in fact use performance-enhancing drugs during his time with the Texas Rangers.
Why did this admission of guilt by A-Rod signal the death of MLB? Because professional baseball maybe more than any other sport is a game that cherishes numbers. Career statistics are what players are judged by more than anything else, maybe even more than the number of championship rings that are on their fingers. In this regard, Rodriguez was supposed to reclaim the most hallowed record in his sport (and perhaps in all of sports) and restore its sanctity. No longer would the sultan of the syringe Barry Bonds taint the record with his asterisk-ladent numbers because of suspicion of using performance-enhancing drugs, but instead Rodriguez would do it the right way, the clean way, just like Hank Aaron before him.
Yet A-Fraud stood to do more than restore the honor of the all-time homerun crown. He was also poised to help erase the images of a generation of players that have sullied the game. Many of the players that my generation and I grew up watching, marveling at and thinking were some of the greatest players of alltime were cheaters, who used steroids to enhance their performance. The greatest pitcher of his generation, Roger Clemens, has been convicted in the court of public opinion of using steroids. The generation's slugger, Barry Bonds, has all but confessed to his misdeeds. His defense is that he did not knowingly take steroids. Please spare us that weak excuse and just admit it already. Other stars like Mark McGwire, the man who helped save baseball, repeatedly plead the Fifth when he was interviewed by Congress about the matter. Rafael Palmerio wagged his finger at Congressmen and told them that he had never taken steroids, yet tested positive for taking them less than a year later.
Why did this admission of guilt by A-Rod signal the death of MLB? Because professional baseball maybe more than any other sport is a game that cherishes numbers. Career statistics are what players are judged by more than anything else, maybe even more than the number of championship rings that are on their fingers. In this regard, Rodriguez was supposed to reclaim the most hallowed record in his sport (and perhaps in all of sports) and restore its sanctity. No longer would the sultan of the syringe Barry Bonds taint the record with his asterisk-ladent numbers because of suspicion of using performance-enhancing drugs, but instead Rodriguez would do it the right way, the clean way, just like Hank Aaron before him.
Yet A-Fraud stood to do more than restore the honor of the all-time homerun crown. He was also poised to help erase the images of a generation of players that have sullied the game. Many of the players that my generation and I grew up watching, marveling at and thinking were some of the greatest players of alltime were cheaters, who used steroids to enhance their performance. The greatest pitcher of his generation, Roger Clemens, has been convicted in the court of public opinion of using steroids. The generation's slugger, Barry Bonds, has all but confessed to his misdeeds. His defense is that he did not knowingly take steroids. Please spare us that weak excuse and just admit it already. Other stars like Mark McGwire, the man who helped save baseball, repeatedly plead the Fifth when he was interviewed by Congress about the matter. Rafael Palmerio wagged his finger at Congressmen and told them that he had never taken steroids, yet tested positive for taking them less than a year later.
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