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GeoClan.com
brings you The Barbershop Notebooks a
column by our friend and family Marc Lamont
Hill. Hill's on the site because like
they say "Great minds think alike"
and Hill will bring you a wise youthful
voice of cynicism, candor and analysis.
Be sure to check it out on a regular basis
as Hill goes over all topics under the
sun.

Over
the past year, the sports world has been
obsessed with Major League Baseball's
steroid investigation. After years of
ignoring the fact that players were taking
illegal performance enhancers, a federal
probe into the Bay Area Laboratory Co-Operative
(BALCO) has forced the league to deal
with its most embarrassing scandal in
nearly 100 years. At the center of this
controversy is San Francisco Giants all-star
outfielder Barry Bonds.
Although
dozens of players have been explicitly
named in the scandal, Bonds has remained
at the center of public discussion. Despite
Jose Canseco's incriminating public confessions
and Raphael Palmeiro's humiliating "outing"
as a liar, Bonds has been forced to bear
the brunt of the American public's critical
attention. After a grand jury investigation,
countless hours of media commentary, as
well as Mark Fainaru-Wada and Lance Williams
tell-all book, Game of Shadows: Barry
Bonds, BALCO, and the Steroids Scandal
that Rocked Professional Sports
(Gotham, 2006), Bonds has been transformed
into a poster boy for all that is wrong
with professional baseball.
To
be sure, the media's extraordinary focus
on Bonds is largely due to his perennial
status as the game's best player, as well
as his annual assault on some of baseball's
most sacred records. Therefore, it is
no surprise that the attack on Bonds has
intensified as he prepares to pass Babe
Ruth and Hank Aaron for the career home
run title. Additionally, Bonds' arrogance,
aloofness with fans and media, and selfishness
with teammates have made him one of the
most reviled stars in professional sports
and an easy target. Even the black community,
which is notoriously loyal to its heroes
long after the heroes have deserted the
community, has been curiously indifferent
to Bonds' plight.
Is
Bonds guilty of steroid usage? Of course
he is. Still, like the equally guilty
OJ Simpson, a thorough analysis of his
situation cannot be exhausted at the level
of individual guilt or innocence. Rather,
we must closely examine the context in
which the controversy emerges in order
to make clear determinations. In this
instance, a careful reading of the situation
suggests that the attacks on Bonds are
largely unwarranted and shaped by shallow
understandings of the circumstances.
"He's
a Cheater!"
One
of the strongest statements made against
Bonds is that he is a cheater. This is
simply untrue. If we are to believe the
accounts of Fainaru-Wada and Williams,
Bonds' steroid use lasted from 1998 to
2002. Although steroids have been illegal
in the US since 1991, they did not make
Major League Baseball's banned substance
list until the end of the 2002 season.
Unlike track stars like Tim Montgomery
and Marion Jones, whose culpability is
linked to Olympic Committee's stringent
anti-doping policy, Bonds did not break
any of baseball's ostensibly sacred rules.
Instead, Bonds used performance enhancing
products that were, at the time, as acceptable
as the laser eye surgeries that many players
undergo in order to hone their vision,
or the pain relief injections that allow
them to play through pain.
Some
have argued that despite the lack of explicit
prohibition, Bonds' alleged steroid use
must be considered cheating because it
provided him with a competitive advantage
that dishonors the spirit of baseball's
rules of fair play. This argument, however,
is severely flawed since Bonds was one
of the last
players in baseball to begin taking steroids.
In fact, according to most reliable accounts,
Bonds' decision to take steroids was largely
an attempt to level a drug-riddled playing
field that privileged a generation of
good but considerably less talented players
who had been "cheating" for
years.
Before
Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa's career-making
homerun chase, a still steroid-free Bonds
ranked among baseball's all time elite.
In 1998, the same year that catapulted
Sosa and McGwire into the realm of superstardom,
a suddenly anonymous Bonds became (and
remains) the only player in the history
of baseball to register 400 career homeruns
and 400 stolen bases. At that point in
his career, Bonds had won eight Golden
Glove and three National League Most Valuable
Player awards. Additionally, he was ranked
number 34 on the Sporting News
"100 Greatest Players of All Time"
list, based on career performance up to
1997. If anything, despite his staggering
numbers, Bonds was playing at a competitive
disadvantage
during the period preceding his alleged
steroid use.
A
Culture of Cheating
Critics
often claim that the activities of Bonds
and others have disgraced the sport by
perpetuating and normalizing the practice
of cheating. However, the notion that
Bonds' steroid consumption violated a
tacit code of ethics within baseball is
both naive and ahistorical. From the infamous
1919 Chicago Black Sox World Series fix
to Pete Rose's gambling problems to the
Danny Almonte age fraud scandal in the
Little League World Series, baseball has
embraced and celebrated a culture of cheating.
Like
American society itself, baseball is governed
by a win-at-all costs mentality that doesn't
discourage cheating -- only getting caught.
More than any other sport, baseball prides
itself on various forms of shortcutting
that violate the spirit and letter of
baseball's laws. Numerous base runners
have been slowed down by water-soaked
base paths provided by loyal grounds keepers.
Countless baseballs have been refrigerated
by teams in an effort to undermine the
effectiveness of power hitters. In fact,
baseball lore is chock-full of romantic
stories about sandpapered baseballs, pine
tarred gloves, corked baseball bats, and
intercepted signs.
Such
chicanery isn't merely limited to baseball's
lumpenproletariat. In fact, many of baseball's
elite have been implicated in some form
of cheating or another. Hall of Fame pitchers
Don Sutton and Gaylord Perry [who later
wrote a book, Me and the Spitter:
An Autobiographical Confession
(Saturday Review Press, 1974), that detailed
his cheating exploits] were notorious
users of the "spitball", a baseball
doctored by sandpaper and/or petroleum
jelly in order facilitate the breaking
process. Ty Cobb, one of the greatest
players in the history of the game, sharpened
his spikes in order to intimidate fielders
and increase his stolen bases. Mickey
Mantle, another baseball immortal, arranged
for Denny McLain to throw him an easy
pitch so that he could pass Jimmie Foxx
on the all-time home run list. Cooperstown
veteran Ralph Kiner admittedly used amphetamines
throughout his playing career. In fact,
decades before the "steroid era"
of the 1990s and early 2000s, it is generally
believed that most of baseball's top-notch
players were taking amphetamines in order
to boost their productivity.
While
Major League Baseball has always turned
a blind eye toward cheating, regarding
it as a harmless vice, the league has
taken a more active role in enabling the
steroid era. After losing a huge sector
of its fan base partially due to the increased
popularity the NBA among American youth
and largely due to the series of baseball
work stoppages between 1972 and 1995 baseball
was in desperate need of the national
attention provided by Sosa and McGwire's
pursuit of Roger Maris's homerun record.
Despite myriad evidence suggesting that
players were juicing, the league refused
to implement an official policy on steroids
until 2002, after numerous threats from
the United States Congress. In fact, as
Fainaru-Wada and Williams reveal, the
league discouraged the media from acknowledging
McGwire's use of Androgen for fear of
losing the fans who were finally returning
to the sport. Given these factors, much
of the morally charged outcry against
Bonds should be redirected toward the
league itself.
Baseball's
Record Books
Countless
fans, players, and pundits have suggested
that Bonds' inevitable leapfrog over Babe
Ruth and Hank Aaron should be marked with
an asterisk or completely erased from
baseball history, given the current circumstances.
The guiding principle behind this position
is that Bonds' steroid consumption, along
with that of his generational cohort,
undermines the statistical integrity of
the record book. In addition to being
wrongheaded for the reasons already mentioned,
such a position fallaciously presumes
that baseball's record books could ever
be unblemished and objective windows into
baseball's past.
More
than any other sport, baseball has relied
on its record books to adjudicate arguments
about the best players and teams in history.
Using various statistical indicators of
skill such as batting average, earned
run average, and on-base percentage, baseball's
cognoscenti frequently attempt to compare
players across multiple generations. Steroids,
they argue, contaminate the process, as
there is no way to determine how the players
of yesteryear would have performed if
they had access to today's wonder drugs.
While this argument is certainly reasonable,
it represents a selective invocation of
historicity that ignores countless other
contextual differences that players confront
across multiple generations.
In
addition to steroids, players of today
have access to a host of technology that
promotes higher levels of performance.
State-of-the-art fitness equipment, nutritional
breakthroughs, new surgical techniques,
and the use of the airplane are merely
a few factors that make it easier to hit
a ball, recover from pain, and concentrate
on playing. How well would Babe Ruth have
played if he had access and desire to
engage in hardcore weight training? While
some would argue that Ruth would rise
to the necessary challenge, one could
also point to his questionable work ethic
and conclude that he would not be able
to compete with today's players.
By
fetishizing the game's statistics, baseball
players are also able to ignore an otherwise
apparent reality. Simply put, modern athletes
are more gifted than their predecessors.
Imagine how well Bonds, even the pre-steroid
version, would perform against overweight
pitchers throwing 60mph fastballs. It's
likely that he'd be approaching 900 home
runs at this point in his career. Of course,
such generational disparities aren't restricted
to baseball. After all, Hall of Fame NBA
center George Mikan would likely be an
extremely tall accountant if he had been
born in the second half of the twentieth
century.
The
difference is, most NBA experts are not
foolish enough to compare Mikan to Kareem
Abdul Jabbar or Shaquille O'Neal based
on raw numbers. Instead, they examine
the impact of individual players within
their own generational context. For baseball,
the reality is that Bonds was by far the
most dominant player in a generation rife
with steroid use. We cannot punish him
for being born in this historical moment
any more than we can castigate Babe Ruth
for not having to face Negro League pitchers
due to American racism. While we should
certainly critique the system that created
baseball's latest crisis, we must simultaneously
acknowledge the athletic life and legacy
of the man who made the most of his circumstance.

Marc
Lamont Hill is one of the youngest members
of the growing body of "Hip-Hop Intellectuals" in the country. His work, which covers
topics such as hip-hop culture, sexuality,
education, and politics, has appeared
in numerous journals, magazines, books,
and anthologies. In 2005, he was named
by Ebony Magazine as one of Black America's
30 future leaders. He is currently working
on several book projects, including New
Dilemmas of the Black Intellectual (with
Gregory Seaton), Media, Learning, and
Sites of Possibility (with Lalitha Vasudevan),
and a book of African American cultural
criticism. Marc Lamont Hill is an assistant
professor of Urban Education and African
American Studies at Temple University.
Trained as an anthropologist of education,
he holds a Ph.D. from the University of
Pennsylvania.
For
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