In 2010's first "Well, duh!" moment in sports, Mark McGwire came out to announce that he had, in fact, taken steroids and Human Growth Hormone, throughout most of the 1990's.
So, Mark McGwire is no longer the last man on earth denying his steroid use. We all knew. Everyone on ESPN knew. Everyone on the Cardinals roster knew. So, no shock and no suspense-relief there. However, this opens the door and gives way to the question: What about Sammy Sosa?
Did Sammy do it? Most likely. So, if he did, perhaps its time for Sammy to clear the air as well. I think everyone who earned major prominence during the "Steroid Era" should go ahead and come clean. Cal Ripken, Jr., might have used some supplemental support to make that Iron Man streak a reality...who knows? The thing is, at the time, such supplements were NOT ILLEGAL. So, it is not like rules were violated.
Yet, there are purists who are arguing that steroids, regardless of the rules of baseball, are a black mark on the history of baseball. Many think that any records or marks made by those guilty of participating in the Steroid Era should be somehow erased or covered up. Some would wipe the books clean of any mention of the steroid users and their impact on the game.
I would argue that, despite your feelings on steroids and whether the fact there was no rules broken at the time they were taken, both Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa deserve to be in the Hall of Fame. Put an asterisk or a parentheses and explain the Steroid Era, but put these two in, and even give the same treatment to Barry Bonds. However, McGwire and Sosa deserve to be in the Hall, and here is why.
Whether they get enshrined or not, McGwire and Sosa need to be included in the story of professional baseball and the Hall of Fame. Four years after a season that ended on August 12, cancelling a World Series, baseball was reeling. Ratings were hurting. Baseball was becoming a footnote.
Mark McGwire was consistently teasing us with the home run record, but could not push over the hump. It was fun to talk about it, to dream about seeing number 62 go over the fences. Yet, there was no buzz. The country did not take notice of baseball. We needed a reason to get excited about baseball again.
Then, June 1998 happened. Sammy Sosa drives 20 long balls and suddenly, the chase for Roger Maris is a two-man sprint through the summer. McGwire and Sosa spent the summer playing "Anything you can do, I can do better!" And the nation, and the world, took notice. Baseball was fun. Baseball was exciting. Baseball was BACK!
The 1998 season was a magical year. In May, a young fireballer, sharing the same lockerroom as Sosa, named Kerry Wood turned a lot of heads with his 20 strike-out performance against the Houston Astros. Wrigley Field would soon become the stage for a year of history. In baseball's second oldest stadium, some of the most memorable moments of all time would occur.
Kerry Wood's 20 Ks started it all, but Sammy Sosa's 20 dingers in June caused baseball fever to spread faster than H1N1 hysteria. For about 3 1/2 months, America, and the world, watched magic happen.
Sosa. McGwire. McGwire. Sosa. Back and forth. Day by day, history inched closer. Who would finally cross the threshold?
The fun, excitement, and joy that all of baseball experienced that wonderful summer saved Major League Baseball. McGwire and Sosa took baseball and carried on their broad shoulders back to glory. Major League Baseball would not be anything close to what it is now were it not for 1998 and the McGwire-Sosa Home Run Derby.
So, put an asterisk, footnote, parenthesis, or some other denotation to make note of the Steroid Era; do what you will. But, McGwire and Sosa deserve to be in the Hall of Fame for their contributions to baseball. Barry Bonds, on the same grounds, deserves that as well.
Showing posts with label sports. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sports. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Friday, April 3, 2009
Sports and Society
When I was just becoming aware and a real fan of sports, I was about 9 years old. I had always been a fan, but never really got truly interested in sports until my family moved to Virginia.
We moved to Pocahontas, Virginia, from Lemont, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago. I was 7 when we moved. For the first 7 years of my life, I lacked a real interest in sports. Thus, I did not realize what I was losing in the move south of the Mason-Dixon line. Moving south, I did not miss the fact that I had never been to Chicago Stadium or Wrigley or Comiskey or Soldier Field.
In between the time I moved south and have returned to the north, so much has changed. Old Comiskey is gone, Comiskey is completely gone, replaced by the name of US Cellular Field, which perplexes the mind. Comiskey is a legendary name. How could it have been replaced? Old Chicago Stadium is long gone, replaced by the marketing mecca United Center, The House that Michael Built. Oh, and Soldier Field was changed from a legendary, mythical, beautiful piece of history and architecture into a UFO.
Tonight, popped in one of the discs from my DVD set from the NBA Dynasty Series, "Chicago Bulls: The 1990's." It educated me on a lot about sports, American society, and the world at large.
This June, when either the Orlando Magic or the Cleveland Cavaliers hoist the Larry O'Brien trophy and are crowned NBA Champions, it will be a full 11 years since the end of an era; the end of the Bulls' Dynasty; the end of truly great TEAMS.
Yes, in the past 11 years there has been some high points, some excitement, and some good teams, but there is nothing close to the magic of what the 1990's brought.
Sports, and the world, has changed so much in the last 11 years. I have been trying to put my finger on the actual reasons, as well as what exactly was in fact different. You watch NBA, NFL, or MLB games today, then you look back 11 years, and there is something different.
It is hard to put a label on what it is exactly, but you see it. You know you are watching terrific athletes and good teams. You get excited, but you still don't feel the same as you did in the 1990s, and earlier.
For me, the difference exists in the persona and passion of the athletes. If you watch the teams of the 90s, there was unbridled passion for the game at hand. Wins and losses determined emotional highs or lows for everyone in the stands, on the sidelines, and in uniform.
The 1994 MLB strike, the 1999 NBA lock-out, and all the outrageous contracts that have been signed in the last 11 years has diminished the games we love. We no longer connect with the athletes we once did. As a result, we don't have that unequivocal sanctuary to immerse ourselves and separate ourselves from the pressures, pains, and stresses of the real world.
Whether it is in coalition with sports, a result of sports, or merely a mirrored coincidence, our society has shifted the last decade plus. We all have become greedier, less passionate about what is important in life.
We are only passionate about our differences. We love to be right. We love to be better. We love for the other guy to fail, to lose, to fall flat on his face.
We had one, brief, day of unity in the aftermath of 9-11, but the vitriol and disdain we Americans have for each other sprouted right back out.
As I watched the DVD and recalled the memories of 1996-1998, when Michael Jordan and the Bulls made history, made the world exciting, I longed for the time when we had that escape. Back then athletes did well financially, but weren't taking home more a year than many European nations. I longed for a time when athletes dressed with class because they had class, and not because David Stern ordered them to have class.
I miss the passion players played with. I miss the passion that we fans could exude onto the players because we were in the battle with them. They wore their uniform with pride and their livelihood depended on our support. We weren't sheep blindly following and feeding their large wallets, but we were almost as important as the ball, nets, and their teammates to their successes.
Now, in sports, and society, we are, in large part, dedicated to only get what is ours. We jump ship at the first signs of trouble. We don't man up and fix issues. We run from them. We create havoc until we get what we want. We whine because we lost a few thousand dollars, but still have food and TV. We call a severe drop in the stock market a depression, not taking time to realize that despite the struggles, we are really okay. We are hurting, but its a deep tissue bruise, not a broken bone or a devastating illness. We are not on the verge of a fatality.
Yet, no one is willing to be a part of the solution. We, as a nation, think that rich people and the Government are the sole source of our security. We have, like so many athletes, gone from being part of the team trying for one goal, to being part of a glob of people with their hands out, waiting for the blank check from on high.
I am 27 years old, and I have lost so much faith in the world, in people, and in the people in charge in the last 11 years. I miss the times when all we had to worry about was the Russians. I miss the hard-working, play-through-the-pain-or-flu athletes and Americans. I miss American Pride.
Will we ever become proud of America and truly love America again? Sadly, that question will not be answered until sometime in late 2012...
We moved to Pocahontas, Virginia, from Lemont, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago. I was 7 when we moved. For the first 7 years of my life, I lacked a real interest in sports. Thus, I did not realize what I was losing in the move south of the Mason-Dixon line. Moving south, I did not miss the fact that I had never been to Chicago Stadium or Wrigley or Comiskey or Soldier Field.
In between the time I moved south and have returned to the north, so much has changed. Old Comiskey is gone, Comiskey is completely gone, replaced by the name of US Cellular Field, which perplexes the mind. Comiskey is a legendary name. How could it have been replaced? Old Chicago Stadium is long gone, replaced by the marketing mecca United Center, The House that Michael Built. Oh, and Soldier Field was changed from a legendary, mythical, beautiful piece of history and architecture into a UFO.
Tonight, popped in one of the discs from my DVD set from the NBA Dynasty Series, "Chicago Bulls: The 1990's." It educated me on a lot about sports, American society, and the world at large.
This June, when either the Orlando Magic or the Cleveland Cavaliers hoist the Larry O'Brien trophy and are crowned NBA Champions, it will be a full 11 years since the end of an era; the end of the Bulls' Dynasty; the end of truly great TEAMS.
Yes, in the past 11 years there has been some high points, some excitement, and some good teams, but there is nothing close to the magic of what the 1990's brought.
Sports, and the world, has changed so much in the last 11 years. I have been trying to put my finger on the actual reasons, as well as what exactly was in fact different. You watch NBA, NFL, or MLB games today, then you look back 11 years, and there is something different.
It is hard to put a label on what it is exactly, but you see it. You know you are watching terrific athletes and good teams. You get excited, but you still don't feel the same as you did in the 1990s, and earlier.
For me, the difference exists in the persona and passion of the athletes. If you watch the teams of the 90s, there was unbridled passion for the game at hand. Wins and losses determined emotional highs or lows for everyone in the stands, on the sidelines, and in uniform.
The 1994 MLB strike, the 1999 NBA lock-out, and all the outrageous contracts that have been signed in the last 11 years has diminished the games we love. We no longer connect with the athletes we once did. As a result, we don't have that unequivocal sanctuary to immerse ourselves and separate ourselves from the pressures, pains, and stresses of the real world.
Whether it is in coalition with sports, a result of sports, or merely a mirrored coincidence, our society has shifted the last decade plus. We all have become greedier, less passionate about what is important in life.
We are only passionate about our differences. We love to be right. We love to be better. We love for the other guy to fail, to lose, to fall flat on his face.
We had one, brief, day of unity in the aftermath of 9-11, but the vitriol and disdain we Americans have for each other sprouted right back out.
As I watched the DVD and recalled the memories of 1996-1998, when Michael Jordan and the Bulls made history, made the world exciting, I longed for the time when we had that escape. Back then athletes did well financially, but weren't taking home more a year than many European nations. I longed for a time when athletes dressed with class because they had class, and not because David Stern ordered them to have class.
I miss the passion players played with. I miss the passion that we fans could exude onto the players because we were in the battle with them. They wore their uniform with pride and their livelihood depended on our support. We weren't sheep blindly following and feeding their large wallets, but we were almost as important as the ball, nets, and their teammates to their successes.
Now, in sports, and society, we are, in large part, dedicated to only get what is ours. We jump ship at the first signs of trouble. We don't man up and fix issues. We run from them. We create havoc until we get what we want. We whine because we lost a few thousand dollars, but still have food and TV. We call a severe drop in the stock market a depression, not taking time to realize that despite the struggles, we are really okay. We are hurting, but its a deep tissue bruise, not a broken bone or a devastating illness. We are not on the verge of a fatality.
Yet, no one is willing to be a part of the solution. We, as a nation, think that rich people and the Government are the sole source of our security. We have, like so many athletes, gone from being part of the team trying for one goal, to being part of a glob of people with their hands out, waiting for the blank check from on high.
I am 27 years old, and I have lost so much faith in the world, in people, and in the people in charge in the last 11 years. I miss the times when all we had to worry about was the Russians. I miss the hard-working, play-through-the-pain-or-flu athletes and Americans. I miss American Pride.
Will we ever become proud of America and truly love America again? Sadly, that question will not be answered until sometime in late 2012...
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
A New Era in Sports...I Hope!
A new era of sports is merging upon us, and I am loving it.
Ron Artest, Marcus Vick, Latrell Spreewell, and Terrell Owens are all examples of what has been wrong with sports for many years. The spoiled, ME-first attitude of the athlete has been nourished and, at times, encouraged by fans, coaches, agents, and other people of impact. However, the limits of what a star can get away with are becoming more clear and the world will be better for it.
First, Ron Artest. Yeah, he is kind of like Dennis Rodman, who I support and would like to see back with the Bulls. However, I never saw Rodman punch a 16-year-old kid after getting hit with a plastic cup. In no way was Artest in danger. No one would be in danger from that cup. A security guard could have removed the out of line fan. Instead, Artest punches THE WRONG FAN, starting the ugliest fiasco in the history of American sports. In spite of all that, Larry Bird and the Indiana Pacers stood by and supported Artest and welcomed him back with open arms in 2005-06. Then, Artest stabs them in the heart by openly asking for a trade. So, the Pacers did what was painful, but right, and deactivated Artest. They may pay a price financially as well as in victories, but I think the Indiana, and all NBA fans, should applaud the Pacers for their strength and backbone and moral code.
Second, a young man I cheered and booed at times this year. I love my Hokies, but now I, and all Hokie fans, have a big black eye thanks to this spoiled brat. Marcus Vick has had a tough act to follow being in his brother's shadow. However, there comes a time when Michael can no longer baby his little brother and Marcus must grow up. Marcus refused to grow up. He flipped-off WVU fans, elbowed a coach, choked when the season was on the line versus Miami, and then stomped on the leg of Elvis Dumerville in the Gator Bowl. All this caused me to doubt his character and leadership ability, things required to be a successful quarterback. His off-the-field exploits further diminish his attractiveness to fans and NFL scouts alike. And, after Virginia Tech, like Indiana with Artest, gave Marcus one more shot, he stabbed them in the heart by not growing up. So, they, too, had to cut their losses and replace a great talent. With this kind of baggage, the negatives become longer-term than the successes, so Frank Beamer and Virginia Tech did what was hard, but right, and cut him loose.
Now to Spree. Mr. "I-have-a-family-to-feed," turned down $21 million because he couldn't feed his family on that salary. What is he feeding them? Rare 50 lb. lobster and filet mingon everynight? There are millions of minimum wage burger flippers that find ways to feed their family on $150 a week. This guy turned down $150 per breath...so, the Minnesota Timberwolves let their problems and a major contributor to their success go and the rest of the league has stayed away. I applaud the NBA execs for not picking this guy up. He has serious issues and does not deserve the privilege to play in the NBA.
Last but not least, for this blog, is TO. TO got exactly what he deserves. I just feel bad for the town of Philadelphia and Donovan McNabb. McNabb has put up with all sorts of crap and still stands strong and leads. He plays through pain. He tried to maintain a civil lockerroom. However, TO would not allow that. He had to get his dollars. He had to get his, Eagles be damned. So, Andy Reid and the Eagles said, "Adios!" and TO was no mo. TO will play again, but his value is extremely diminished because of his selfish, team-disrupting attitude and behavior.
I applaud these teams and leagues for beginning to turn the tides. Keep turning the tides against these spoiled, selfish athletes. They are by far some of the most overpaid people on the planet, but I won't complain as long as they give 100% on the field to their team. And is it THAT hard to ask these athletes to ACT like they are civilized human beings? Part of the job of pro athlete is the fact you are a role model. It comes with the territory. Its an occupational hazard. If you don't want to be a role model, get a job in an office building somewhere.
So, in being a role model, could you please, as an athlete, set a decent example for the kids who love, adore, and emulate you?
Ron Artest, Marcus Vick, Latrell Spreewell, and Terrell Owens are all examples of what has been wrong with sports for many years. The spoiled, ME-first attitude of the athlete has been nourished and, at times, encouraged by fans, coaches, agents, and other people of impact. However, the limits of what a star can get away with are becoming more clear and the world will be better for it.
First, Ron Artest. Yeah, he is kind of like Dennis Rodman, who I support and would like to see back with the Bulls. However, I never saw Rodman punch a 16-year-old kid after getting hit with a plastic cup. In no way was Artest in danger. No one would be in danger from that cup. A security guard could have removed the out of line fan. Instead, Artest punches THE WRONG FAN, starting the ugliest fiasco in the history of American sports. In spite of all that, Larry Bird and the Indiana Pacers stood by and supported Artest and welcomed him back with open arms in 2005-06. Then, Artest stabs them in the heart by openly asking for a trade. So, the Pacers did what was painful, but right, and deactivated Artest. They may pay a price financially as well as in victories, but I think the Indiana, and all NBA fans, should applaud the Pacers for their strength and backbone and moral code.
Second, a young man I cheered and booed at times this year. I love my Hokies, but now I, and all Hokie fans, have a big black eye thanks to this spoiled brat. Marcus Vick has had a tough act to follow being in his brother's shadow. However, there comes a time when Michael can no longer baby his little brother and Marcus must grow up. Marcus refused to grow up. He flipped-off WVU fans, elbowed a coach, choked when the season was on the line versus Miami, and then stomped on the leg of Elvis Dumerville in the Gator Bowl. All this caused me to doubt his character and leadership ability, things required to be a successful quarterback. His off-the-field exploits further diminish his attractiveness to fans and NFL scouts alike. And, after Virginia Tech, like Indiana with Artest, gave Marcus one more shot, he stabbed them in the heart by not growing up. So, they, too, had to cut their losses and replace a great talent. With this kind of baggage, the negatives become longer-term than the successes, so Frank Beamer and Virginia Tech did what was hard, but right, and cut him loose.
Now to Spree. Mr. "I-have-a-family-to-feed," turned down $21 million because he couldn't feed his family on that salary. What is he feeding them? Rare 50 lb. lobster and filet mingon everynight? There are millions of minimum wage burger flippers that find ways to feed their family on $150 a week. This guy turned down $150 per breath...so, the Minnesota Timberwolves let their problems and a major contributor to their success go and the rest of the league has stayed away. I applaud the NBA execs for not picking this guy up. He has serious issues and does not deserve the privilege to play in the NBA.
Last but not least, for this blog, is TO. TO got exactly what he deserves. I just feel bad for the town of Philadelphia and Donovan McNabb. McNabb has put up with all sorts of crap and still stands strong and leads. He plays through pain. He tried to maintain a civil lockerroom. However, TO would not allow that. He had to get his dollars. He had to get his, Eagles be damned. So, Andy Reid and the Eagles said, "Adios!" and TO was no mo. TO will play again, but his value is extremely diminished because of his selfish, team-disrupting attitude and behavior.
I applaud these teams and leagues for beginning to turn the tides. Keep turning the tides against these spoiled, selfish athletes. They are by far some of the most overpaid people on the planet, but I won't complain as long as they give 100% on the field to their team. And is it THAT hard to ask these athletes to ACT like they are civilized human beings? Part of the job of pro athlete is the fact you are a role model. It comes with the territory. Its an occupational hazard. If you don't want to be a role model, get a job in an office building somewhere.
So, in being a role model, could you please, as an athlete, set a decent example for the kids who love, adore, and emulate you?
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Racism in the NBA? Not Hardly
Okay, I really want to get away from this issue, but it keeps coming up.
Race.
Several talking heads in the sports world have created the recent MVP voting in the NBA into an issue of racism.
Mark Jackson, ESPN hoops analyst and former NBA star, said that a black point guard with Steve Nash's numbers would never be considered for MVP. Jackson said that he put up numbers like that and was lucky to make an all star game.
A columnist in Miami (MIAMI...you know, where the HEAT are from) thrust this into national spotlight as well when he suggested that race was a major issue in the voting for the 2005 NBA MVP.
Why is race ALWAYS an issue when a white guy wins out over a black guy? Anytime a white guy does well, earns an award or recognition over a black guy, its because of race. Whenever a white guy gets a job or promotion, racism is the blame for a black guy not getting the job or promotion.
Lets look at the facts. Steve Nash won the MVP because he was and is the most valauble player to his team's success. Take Nash from Phoenix, and you have a talented and young group of players who would be a lottery team again.
Take Shaq from Miami, and you've got a 6 or 7 seed in the playoffs.
The MVP is not for the BEST player, but the MOST VALUABLE. Nash was more important to the 33 game turnaround from 04 to 05 than the improvement of the Heat.
While I cannot guarentee that the thought of putting a white guy on top did not factor in at all to the voting, I can guarentee that race was not the deciding factor...it wasn't even a real factor. Just talking heads who like to stir things up and take away from the honor of being voted MVP.
Nash deserved it. The Suns won 33 more games than last season, and did so in the WEST...you know, the deepest most talented of the two conferences. Nash scored when needed, passed the ball when the time was right, took the shots his team needed taken, and played tough defense.
Nash was all over the floor for the Suns each night. Nash is the MVP, so get over it.
The Heat would have made the playoffs without Shaq. Phoenix would not.
Race.
Several talking heads in the sports world have created the recent MVP voting in the NBA into an issue of racism.
Mark Jackson, ESPN hoops analyst and former NBA star, said that a black point guard with Steve Nash's numbers would never be considered for MVP. Jackson said that he put up numbers like that and was lucky to make an all star game.
A columnist in Miami (MIAMI...you know, where the HEAT are from) thrust this into national spotlight as well when he suggested that race was a major issue in the voting for the 2005 NBA MVP.
Why is race ALWAYS an issue when a white guy wins out over a black guy? Anytime a white guy does well, earns an award or recognition over a black guy, its because of race. Whenever a white guy gets a job or promotion, racism is the blame for a black guy not getting the job or promotion.
Lets look at the facts. Steve Nash won the MVP because he was and is the most valauble player to his team's success. Take Nash from Phoenix, and you have a talented and young group of players who would be a lottery team again.
Take Shaq from Miami, and you've got a 6 or 7 seed in the playoffs.
The MVP is not for the BEST player, but the MOST VALUABLE. Nash was more important to the 33 game turnaround from 04 to 05 than the improvement of the Heat.
While I cannot guarentee that the thought of putting a white guy on top did not factor in at all to the voting, I can guarentee that race was not the deciding factor...it wasn't even a real factor. Just talking heads who like to stir things up and take away from the honor of being voted MVP.
Nash deserved it. The Suns won 33 more games than last season, and did so in the WEST...you know, the deepest most talented of the two conferences. Nash scored when needed, passed the ball when the time was right, took the shots his team needed taken, and played tough defense.
Nash was all over the floor for the Suns each night. Nash is the MVP, so get over it.
The Heat would have made the playoffs without Shaq. Phoenix would not.
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