Stuff to See!

Juiced

Pitchers and catchers have reported for spring training. Baseball is only a few weeks away now. Zen is stoked.
Having more than a casual love affair with the game, I picked up a copy of Jose Canseco's book. It was a quick and easy read, and I finished it within 24 hours of buying the book. A strange combination of autobiography and pulpit pounding concerning the use of steroids, I found myself agreeing more often than not with elements of Canseco's big picture, although the details tended to get in the way as often as not.
The main thrust of the book is that controlled and careful steroid use may be of benefit to people. Steroids are illegal now without a prescription and certainly very dangerous in high dosage, or in combination with other toxic substances. Then again, not too long ago, cocaine and opiates were perfectly legal. Alcohol went from legal to illegal back to legal again early in the 20th century. I have questions about whether or not marijuana, a substance no more harmful than tobacco or alcohol, should be decriminalized. The weight of legality with respect to substances is about the same as a feather to me, although I must say outright I do not condone using illegal substances or breaking the law in any other way. Laws can change. That's that.
Canseco says he did his homework with respect to the controlled use of steroids; he throws around enough language and insight on the subject to sound convincing. He tries to put the lie to certain commonly accepted claims about steroid use, such as the increased risk of injury. Pointing to himself, he claims that a variety of problems took their toll on him later in his career: back problems, arthritis, scoliosis, et cetera. Were these problems exacerbated by steroid use? Maybe they were, but Canseco denies it. The one claim he does acknowledge is that even controlled steroid use causes atrophy to the testicles. No surprise there.
It's possible he may be on the money about most of his steroid-related claims. I can accept the possible validity of his points in light of the general acceptance of other biochemical agents, such as antidepressants and birth-control pills, which wreak no less havoc with the human body's chemical balance. Fooling around with the human body's chemical stew is risky business, but it is certainly possible to enhance what our nature has bestowed upon us. Then again, Canseco didn't really tell me anything I didn't know at least in principle. His is just experienced eyewitness testimony, and in judging testimony you have to take into account the motives and the reliability of the one speaking out. I'll come to that a little later.
The other major theme running through the 284 pages of this book is Canseco's Promethean feelings of being wronged by the establishment in and around Major League Baseball. He goes on at length multiple times about alleged slights against minority players, and the apparent carte blanche given to white 'All-American boys' like Mark McGwire and Cal Ripken Jr. The issue of race relations runs through American history much like the Mississippi River; it's a current that can't be ignored. I can accept that some overt or covert racism may have played a part in some of Canseco's more colorful escapades, while issues around McGwire and Ripken were swept under the rug. It does take two to tango, though, and that's where Canseco's message falls short the furthest.
Reading the book, I got the impression that Canseco was never wrong. Unless I'm mistaken in believing him to be human, that's complete bullshit.
I will grant this much: Canseco's book is pretty frank stuff. Nowhere in there do I see anything about how he continuously worked on maintaining his baseball skills, except to the extent that he still conditioned himself in strength and quickness training. That tracks well with his career path, one of a truly exceptional hitter, a pretty decent base stealer, and not much else. At best he was a two and a half tool player: power, speed, and some contact hitting. Toward the end of his career the contact dropped off. In his honest opinion, he couldn't have done it without steroids. I believe him. Nowhere do I see the work ethic that even came through in Pete Rose's book, with the constant drilling in defense and other aspects of the game. Canseco was a very intimidating hitter, and that remains his on the field legacy.
At various points in the book, he portrays himself as something of a latter-day chemical prophet, claiming to have introduced steroids into baseball. He may well be right on the latter. Although there are no overt comparisons to other prophets, he does liken himself to Jonas Salk, he who discovered the medicinal uses of penicillin. Canseco is always the one who was misunderstood, mislabeled, and ultimately mistreated by the powers that be.
Mark McGwire is his primary baseball target, understandable because they came to prominence together. He does give credit where credit is due to McGwire's monstrous rookie season, claiming that it was largely without the benefit of steroid use. Throughout the rest of the book, though, he paints himself as McGwire's foil, claiming that although they drew the same benefits from steroids, McGwire was always the golden boy, while he himself was left out in the cold. Race has much to do with it, in Canseco's mind, and I don't doubt that a part of the race card has some validity. The way in which Canseco molds his allegations about McGwire's, or Jason Giambi's, or anyone else's steroid use boils down to a he said he said squabble that shouldn't land anyone in court, although you never know in our overly litigious society.
He also heaps scorn on MLB itself by saying that the establishment gave tacit approval for steroid use, or at least did nothing to prevent it, until the storm clouds started to gather and he was effectively blackballed from the game. I must admit that I had some thoughts about steroid use in the game in the late 80s and early 90s, when home run totals went through the roof, culminating in the extravaganza in 1998 between McGwire and Sammy Sosa. He mentions Brady Anderson's fluky 1996, when the leadoff hitter swatted 50 home runs when his previous career high was in the low 20s (21, I think). Others have called that season into question as being potentially tainted by steroid use. I have no idea what was going on at the time, but it was damn strange. I call it a fluke, but wouldn't be surprised if there was more to it.
Was the book worth the money I spent on it? I guess it was, although I didn't really get much out of it. Canseco's message rings true in large part, specifically about the claims that baseball tacitly approved of the results gained from its employees alleged use of steroids. He may even be on to something about the controlled use of steroids as part of a program of physical fitness and maintenance, although I'd rather see such things borne out by research conducted by qualified professionals than by an embittered ex-baseball player. Canseco the messenger is no more or less credible given that his tale is in print. If anything, he reminds me of a bright, yet angst-ridden teenager who feels like the world is out to get him. That doesn't make anything he says any more or less true, but it does beg the question of what the other side may have to say. It's much easier to speak out and say 'behold, I am wronged' than it is to prove such a claim. I can see some of it, but I can also see that this person, now a published author, falls short by not saying 'behold, I have wronged' as well. It's just this shortcoming that keeps me from really getting much out of the book. At best, it presents half of the picture, colored heavily by the author's subjectivity.
I find myself wondering if the other half will come out in the wash.
This should be an interesting year for baseball, though. Bring it on!