Baseball Takes A Hit

(2 of 2)
F

ans should consider this possibility: some players are great. In 1927, when Ruth became the first player to wallop 60 home runs, only one other major leaguer, Ruth's Yankee teammate Lou Gehrig, hit more than 30. Indeed, the Babe connected more times that year than 11 of the 15 other teams. (And what illegal substance was he on? Prohibition-era booze.) Bonds could be playing at that level. When he walks to the plate, he's not really facing the pitcher on the mound; he's facing down the legends of the game. That quest is motivation enough for him to pamper and punish his body legally. Or perhaps illegally.

Costas believes it's time for players to clean their own locker rooms. He imagines this revisionist pep talk: "We've got to have some comprehensive drug testing for three reasons. 1) It's an unlevel playing field; 2) you're forcing some of us to make the decision to either fall behind competitively or place our own health at risk; and 3) many of us have achieved great things legitimately — why should these cheating bums cast doubts on our achievements?"

There's a fourth reason: steroids can kill. Athletes in any sport might consider football's Lyle Alzado, an all-pro defensive lineman who took anabolic steroids throughout his career and later believed they were linked to the brain cancer that killed him. "Now I'm sick, and I'm scared," he said just before his death, at 43, in 1992. "Look at me. My hair's gone, I wobble when I walk and have to hold on to someone for support, and I have trouble remembering things. My last wish? That no one else ever dies this way."

Don't ask a ballplayer whether steroids are good for sports. Ask Lyle Alzado's widow.