By Rabbi Ben Kamin
ENCINITAS, California — Alex Rodriguez, outwardly taciturn, bronze-like in his good looks, a matinee-idol third baseman of great reserve and moodiness in contrast to his infield mate, the gregarious and pleasing and champion shortstop Derek Jeter, announced a few years ago that he had introduced performing-enhancing drugs into his body while he was with the Texas Rangers.
He’s reneged about it in the past, lied through his resplendent teeth, and, in own grand-tragic way, earned the enmity of his teammates in New York. He’s also earned up to $130 million a year to serve as a false symbol of a national game that is as inflated spiritually as our national debt is bloated.The New York Times reports: “This unusual melodrama, sometimes bordering on farce, is fueled by increasing distrust and animosity. Most immediately, the team and the player once regarded as the game’s best are feuding over whether Rodriguez’s left quadriceps muscle is healthy.” The team physician has diagnosed a “Grade 1 strain.” But when it comes to Rodriguez’ honestly, what he have here is a Grade 1 sprain.
The telegenic player and one-time squeeze for Jennifer Lopez is a liar and a cheat. Major League Baseball’s sluggish response to the two-decade scandal of drug-enhancing chemicals is much like the ball games themselves—too long, too drawn-out, and riddled with both lethargy and vanity.
The issue is so brazen, so “out there,” that it was the topic of a question at President Barack Obama’s first press conference in 2009. The president treated it as soberly as the economy, responding with stern words like “example,” “role model,” and “poor choices.”
So what of these young men, these virile gods, who have grown up for the most part in modest or even meager environments, and by virtue of naturally-endowed talents and some providential circumstances, find themselves crowned with unimaginable power, incomprehensible treasure, the inexorable attentions of covetous women, and the sometimes all-too cynical manipulation of agents and brokers?
There was a time when I thought that this gossip culture of ours was partially to blame for the idolatry of certain attractive players—that we somehow were culpable for jading them or pressuring them into their deceitful behavior.
Nonsense: these guys have deceived every boy or girl who throws the ball against a backstop for hours, imagining themselves in the big leagues, whispering names like Rodriguez, Braun, and Cabrera long after the shadows have crept in too thick to make any more sandlot fancies possible that day.
Itamar Moses’ play about steroid use in the game, Back Back Back, should be seen by those who wish to examine this case-hardened social issue as more than just spectators. Yes, the use of these drugs by ball players—men who are emulated by impressionable kids—is a viral issue that infects the game, skews its hallmark record-keeping, and obviates trust. One is saddened and concerned nonetheless in contemplation of the souls that have shrunk in the midst of those artificially swollen young bodies.
Baseball is a national thread of memory that links generations and it will survive this, even if some of the players in question do not. Especially if the players who lied come around the bases to the home plate of truth and dignity.
*
Rabbi Kamin is a freelance writer based in Encinitas, California. He may be contacted via ben.kamin@sdjewishworld.com