The sound of silence
If there was one thing we learned from the Congressional hearing on steroids last week is that the public was ready, indeed eager, to accept at face value the sworn testimony of its beloved baseball heroes.
Sammy Sosa said he has never used? OK, we believe him. Rafael Palmeiro punctuated his denial with some finger pointing at the panel? Good to know. Curt Schilling was never really suspected of juicing in the first place, but his rebuff was welcome nonetheless.
Then there was Mark McGwire, the Man Who Saved Baseball with his pursuit and overtaking of Roger Maris' hallowed single season home run record in 1998.
Big Mac, who repeatedly and vehemently denied using illegal steroids in the past, suddenly and conspicuously clammed up while under oath, with the threat of perjury hanging over his head should he utter anything untrue.
And as eager as the public was to accept, it was equally ready to condemn.
McGwire's refusal to address questions about his past use/nonuse of steroids was widely seen as a tacit admission of guilt.
In examining his testimony, or lack thereof, two possible scenarios emerge. McGwire either did not do steroids and received some bad advice from his lawyer (in which case he might want to consider a malpractice suit), or he did use and received some very good advice from his lawyer.
Either way, the public perception now is McGwire juiced his way into the record book, and once perception becomes entrenched, it's as good as reality.
The backlash has been harsh.
A state legislator in Missouri wants McGwire's name removed from a highway. Pundits want his career stats voided and have labeled him a cheater.
Jay Mariotti, a columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times, said Friday on ESPN's "Pardon the Interruption" that baseball had to protect the integrity of other eras by cleansing the record books of the steroid era.
There is no integrity to the record book.
Did the all-white leagues of pre-1947 have integrity? Did the dead-ball era? Did the raised mound era? What about the ages-old debate of 154 vs. 162 games? There is nothing to protect.
And the thing is, though, even if he was juicing, McGwire didn't cheat. Neither did Jose Canseco or Ken Caminiti, both admitted users.
Steroids weren't explicitly banned by baseball until recently.
What McGwire and others may have done was against the law, but it wasn't cheating. Guys who cork bats or use a foreign substance on balls cheat.
And if you are going to start expunging law breakers from the record book, the Baseball Encyclopedia would quickly resemble a leaflet.
This week's top 10 (down to three after slimming down by seven items after going off the juice):
3. Plenty of room. While watching the IRL race in Phoenix yesterday, I couldn't help but notice the vast amount of empty seats. The same was true two weeks ago in Homestead, and I noticed similar trends last year at both IRL and ChampCar races.
When NASCAR runs at these same tracks later this year, the stands will be filled to overflowing.
Why? I don't understand why stock car and open wheel racing seem to have mutually exclusive fan bases. I didn't understand it 15 years ago when CART ruled racing and NASCAR was confined mainly to the South, and I don't understand it now when NASCAR dominates and the Indy cars are afterthoughts.
2. Madness ain't what it used to be. After a great championship week, the NCAA men's tournament started out as a snoozer - hardly a compelling game let alone much of an upset the first day and the first three-quarters of the second day.
Then Vermont and Bucknell salvaged a dismal Friday and Saturday turned into an upset special, reminding us how great the tournament can be.
1. What's the point? You might have missed it (because it's a really insignificant story), but Emmitt Smith signed a contract with the Dallas Cowboys on Thursday so he could "officially" retire as a Cowboy.
I don't know who first started this nonsense (it's been around awhile), but now it seems like anyone who had a decent career with a team then moved on has to sign some silly ceremonial contract so they can say they retired with that team.
Quick, can you tell me who Joe Montana retired with? More importantly, does it matter? When we think of great players, we remember them in their prime, not which team they ceremonially ended with.
Andrew Hinkelman is a sports writer for The Daily Inter Lake. He can be reached at hink@dailyinterlake.com