Merry Christmas, Everybody!

I originally put off posting this because I thought I might put it elsewhere, but I guess not…
So Roger Clemens was on steroids. Big deal. If your favorite player wasn’t listed in the Mitchell Commission Report, congratulations: he’s probably on steroids too.
I like the Mitchell Commission report because it gives baseball the illusion of closure. There are 85 players listed in the report as having bought steroids or Human Growth Hormone or, as the report so eloquently put it, were “shot in the buttocks” full of Deca-Duroblin. We’ll deal with those players and move on.
Baseball has survived worse. The 1919 Chicago White Sox scandal, wherein 8 players conspired to throw the World Series, is worse than the steroid scandal, for the simple fact that the players today are still trying to win the game. They’ve just replaced 10 minutes in the batting cage to shove a Vitamin B12 shot up their ass. The actual competition is still on the up and up.
Baesball has made a dog-and-pony show in recent years of cracking down on all illegal substances, including amphetamines. Amphetamines have been a staple of major league clubhouses since the 1960s, owing to the sport’s long season of games, travel and gin and tonics. In the age of Starbucks, the ban probably has had no net effect, but it’s all part of the act.
The fact is, the players in the Mitchell Commission Report were caught because they bought steroids through one of two distributors: a former clubhouse attendant for the Mets, or the Bay Area Laboratory Co-Operative. If they got their steroids elsewhere, including those twin 24-hour shops known as “Mexico” and “The Internet,” they didn’t get caught. There is still not a reliable test for Human Growth Hormone because, as menacing as it sounds, it grows naturally in humans. Everyone who was fingered for HGH usage in the Mitchell report was busted for buying it.
Three hours before the Mitchell Commission report was released, a list circulated on many websites purportedly containing the names in the report. It was pretty convincing, and was about 60 percent accurate. The names that were wrong were those of all star players who have been suspected of using steroids, but the point is not that these players didn’t do steroids: they just weren’t listed in the report. Who knows if they used steroids? They do. We will never know. The cloud hangs over everyone.
The sport is not clean. No sports are clean anymore. But we can still love them. We can take refuge inside the games, instead of worshipping the players. There’s nothing that says players have to be role models, as we expected them to be as recently as 10 years ago. The rise of the Internet and day-long news cycle mean we know our athletes better than we ever have, and they’re almost universally boring or loathsome. They play sports for a living: they’re not paid, or taught, to talk. Yet their words receive more attention than most member of Congress.
There’s an easy fix to this problem: stop listening. Stop obsessing over what athletes put in their bodies. And if you can’t stand it any more, stop watching. Baseball is going to implement further steroid testing measures, but they’ll always be one step behind. The users are “cheating” in the same way our speeding or jaywalking is illegal. We’re just doing what we can for an edge. When the dust clears from the Mitchell Commission report, we’ll have the appearance of a clean game. Players will still be using. But we will have done what we can.
ESPN is reporting that the Padres and Pirates are knee-deep in trade talks about Jason Bay. Since when did Pittsburgh become a minor-league franchise for San Diego?
I don’t have much to write today. I’m still working on an essay, so I’m using up my sports writing on that. I’m having a gingerbread latte from Dunkin Donuts. It doesn’t really taste like gingerbread, but I couldn’t tell you what it tastes like. It’s still pretty good. When I went to order it, I asked if they had it, and the woman immediately said, “No, not anymore”… until she realized I hadn’t actually asked for the Pumpkin Spice Latte, which is gone til November. Always trying to stay one step of the curve.
I just dropped 492 points on Edgar in Scrabulous.
We have a game in the office. It’s called the “Mega Bloks” game. Mega Bloks is a toy company, and at one point before I worked here, they sent these little Duplo-looking construction worker plastic dudes to us. They have a button that says “Mega Bloks” in their chest, and when you press it, it makes one of three noises: dude either says “Mega Bloks,” laughs or whistles. This led to the most obvious game of all time: predict what Mega Bloks guy will say. It’s a very difficult game, as the odds are exponentially bad at getting more than one. The record is 9, by Matt Lynch, the odds of which are 1 in 19,683. The best I’ve done is 7. I’ve failed many, many times. But the key here is we get dozens of games, nerf guns, videos etc., and the only thing that survives is the Mega Bloks game. It’s the best. In fact, I’m going to play right now.
I say Mega Bloks (I always start with Mega Bloks): Mega Bloks
I whistle: it whistles.
I whistle again: it laughs. And I lose.
It was that quick. I’ll admit, I was going off the board by picking 2 in a row. You have to be bold for that. It rarely happens, and why the 1 in 19,683 is probably not all that accurate. But it does happen. Okay, one more time.
Mega Bloks: Mega Bloks (in truth, I just wait until it says MB and start at one)
Laugh: laugh.
Whistle: laugh.
Dammit.
To the Moss/Brady/Gaffney play, in real time, on behindthesteelcurtain.com:
damn that was just a hell of a fucking play
well, what can you say?
ugh
ouch
There is nothing else that needs to be said.
(Actually, there’s quite a lot, and I promise to write more after I get done writing an article for this site…)
We will display Randy Moss’ quote about Tom Brady’s most notable attributes:
“Poise. Patience. And the determination to go out and kill you at any given time.”
We don’t win a lot, but at least we have a sense of humor about it.
Hooray, Curt! We’re all proud of you. I believe he gets a $1 million bonus for every font used.
So that’s right… I went to Newark yesterday. Among my traveling crew, we determined that the first steps we took off the train in Newark were the first steps we had taken in Newark. Jokes followed, but we were at the brand spanking new arena in no time.
I first saw the arena a couple weeks ago when I went to Newark Airport for my Thanksgiving travels, and thought, “Damn, that’s really close, perhaps I should go to a game as it’s a) very easy to get to and b) probably cheaper than the Rangers.” I was right; it is much cheaper. A friend was coming into town and he loves hockey, so he suggested the game, and off we went.
The arena is quite nice, even if we didn’t have the appropriate silver tickets to get into the Belvedere (Vodka) Ice Lounge. Here’s the problem: there was nobody there! The paid attendance was 14,012, but I don’t believe that for a second. Most of the people were crammed up in the top of the stadium, like myself, including a guy who looked like Santa Claus. Except for the Devils jersey.
The Bruins scored three goals in the first period off Possible Best Goalie Ever Martin Brodeur, but the Devils got two in the second, one in the third, and one off the replacement goalie in overtime for the win. As my friend was on a business trip, his boss decided to buy us food and drink without his knowledge, his boss being a man who shall remain nameless, but is quite rich and runs a foundation with his wife, Melinda. Thanks, Bill! You’re the best. Wait…