Bold headlines scream across CNN tickers. A prominent American professional in a multi-billion dollar industry is disgraced by allegations of professional misconduct. Days later, a colleague in the same time-honored field pleads guilty for lying to Congress and faces possible deportation. With American confidence in one of its oldest institutions teetering at the precipice of collapse, newly elected President Barack Obama tells reporters, "It's depressing news on top of what has been a flurry of depressing items when it comes to (this institution)." Calls for more Congressional investigations ensue and concerned citizens are enraged. So what is this great national crisis? Is it the collapse of the American banking industry? Is one of the culprits the villainous Bernie Madoff? Well dear readers, get ready for a cupcheck: the two men are professional baseball players Alex Rodriguez and Miguel Tejada and the critical national issue is steroid usage in Major League Baseball.
In lieu of our government's slightly more pressing issues of protracted war, a comatose economy and the impending apocalypse, I've decided to solve Major League Baseball's steroid problem myself. Since I love peace, justice, the American Way and a free-market economy, I think we should go all NAFTA on this problem and deregulate Major League Baseball. That's right, I said it. Professional baseball players should be permitted to rampantly abuse any performance-enhancing drug they choose. Human Growth Hormone injections the size of turkey basters, enough testosterone to give a five year old girl a 70-home run season, oral anabolic pills the size of hockey pucks and even those horse steroids that make thoroughbreds bleed from the nose when they're run too hard. Now before I'm tarred and feathered by the family values voters that I'm sure are reading this, let me explain my rationale. Implement my strategy and there will never be another young athlete in the country that will even whisper the "S-word" again.
Don't believe me? Go with a hypothetical for a moment. A few years from now you take little Timmy to the ballpark for his very first baseball game. Timmy's favorite player, the venerable Barry Bonds, waddles to home plate atop construction barrel-sized thighs and raises his tree limb of an arm to call his homerun. The pitcher winds up, releases the pitch, and just as Barry's bat makes contact with the ball ... BOOM! His watermelon-sized, HGH-distended head bursts at the seams. Riddle me this: Do you think little Timmy still thinks steroids are cool? I know what you're going to say this time. "But Mike, little Timmy is a pitcher. Batters' heads randomly exploding at the plate could actually drive up his strike count." Au contraire, mon frere. All Timmy needs is to see Roger Clemens arm smack a batter in the face after being ripped from its socket by the sheer force of his fastball delivery. And the icing on the cake is a happy Darwinian twist. The worst cheaters will remove themselves from the gene pool when their sperm count drops to zero. Problem solved. You're welcome, Congress.
My point is this: Current responses to the steroid issue in baseball are equally absurd. Even Alex Rodriguez, the golden boy of Major League Baseball, only acknowledged using banned substances while refusing to admit which ones he took. He also still gets to collect his 10-year, $305 million dollar contract he signed in 2007. Miguel Tejada, though facing deportation, will probably walk away with a slap on the wrist and stay in the league. So what is to be done? The only weakness left is a player's legacy, which means keeping the cheaters out of the Hall of Fame. No more petty fines and no more five-game suspensions. And, for the love of God, keep Congress away. The League has to use its punishment of Shoeless Joe Jackson and, though it pains me to say, Pete Rose, as their precedent. The voting sportswriters have already begun to exact revenge against dopers like Mark McGwire by withholding Cooperstown votes, but MLB Commissioner Bud Selig needs to bring down the sky on confirmed cheaters. This means known violators get big black asterisks next to their records, long 50-game suspensions and permanent bans from the Hall of Fame. Otherwise, little Timmy will have to learn the perils of steroids the hard way … by being scarred for life at his first baseball game. So please Bud Selig, do it for the kids.
