Pro athletes must end silence on steroids, By: Jeff Schulz
December 25, 2006
The traditions have changed. They don’t hang Christmas lights because that was Taylor’s job. They don’t open presents first thing Christmas morning — they drive 30 minutes to a cemetery. They leave flowers on a gravesite. They hold hands. They say a prayer.
“His favorite drink was Sunkist orange,” Don Hooton said. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anybody this before, but we have a special cup we use and we all drink a little bit of that orange soda. Then we pour the rest out for him.”
There is a pause. Three and a half years later, there are still pauses, tears, confusion. Does it ever stop? The father kneels down every morning. He talks to the son he buried. He has reached the point where he can usually do an interview like this without crying. Doctors tell him, “Time is your best friend.” But it never really gets better.
“You lose a kid who’s 17 years old — it’s incomprehensible,” Hooton said by phone. “Even today, it seems like a dream. People say, ‘I can’t imagine what it’s like.’ And I say, ‘I can’t imagine, either.’ “
Taylor Hooton committed suicide on July 15, 2003. He was a high school student with a 3.8 grade-point average in Plano, Texas. He was going into his senior year. He played baseball. He took steroids. He suffered from depression. Nobody realized to what extent he was depressed until he fashioned a noose with two belts tied together and looped it around a doorknob and over his bedroom door.
Most of us learned of Taylor at last year’s congressional steroid hearings. Amid the cowardice (Mark McGwire), the lies (Rafael Palmeiro), the deceit (Sammy Sosa) and the self-promotion (Jose Canseco) on display before a House Government Reform Committee, it was the testimony of Don Hooton and other grieving parents that stood out. They told stories of their teenaged sons, who, following the examples set by professional athletes, sought to get stronger and faster with performance-enhancing drugs. All the stories ended in tragedy.
Why recount this now? Because there has been too much lip service and too little action. Because while Major League Baseball has pledged $1 million to the Taylor Hooton Foundation to help educate and raise awareness about steroids, the players are still hiding behind their paychecks. Because Don Hooton phoned the NFL and, he said, “They wanted nothing to do with us.”
Because there is a Baseball Hall of Fame ballot sitting on my desk and, for the first time, there is a decision to make about enshrining an athlete who is largely recognized as an artificially ballooned cheater.
Hooton wants to be careful. He believes he and his foundation have been painted as “controversial” and anti-pro athletes. That’s not his intent. Picking on McGwire or Barry Bonds, he knows, doesn’t solve any problems.
But with Hall of Fame ballots due in five days, there is no better time to think of Taylor Hooton and wonder why nobody with a Nike deal will speak up. It’s not about money. It’s about a face and a voice.
Magic Johnson has done wonders to raise awareness about AIDS. Why do so many remain invisible regarding steroids?
Why are so many hiding behind security gates, protecting their legacy?
Experts estimate 5 to 6 percent of all high school students have used performance-enhancing drugs. The NFL continues to suspend players, but the league otherwise has done little to find a solution. Even the Navy football team has been hit by a steroids scandal.
Steroids. In the military.
“It’s just very disappointing,” Hooton said. “Mark McGwire made a contribution to the foundation, which was appreciated. But I wish he would step forward and say something.”
McGwire is the one being picked on most today for a simple reason: He is the one up for Hall of Fame consideration. He refused to answer questions about his past in Washington. He promised to speak out, to help educate youths about the dangers of performance-enhancing drugs. Of course, he hasn’t.
Hooton’s position on enshrinement for steroid users is just as one would expect: Not now. Not ever. His reasoning: Forget whether it was against a sport’s rules — it was against the law. We don’t give honorary economics degrees to bank robbers. We don’t honor felons.
“What bothers me about the Hall of Fame is the message that it sends to kids,” Hooton said. “They think: Sure, steroids are damaging to the body. But Mark McGwire got the big prize. He’s in the Hall of Fame. Look at what society rewards.
“I read something back when the baseball season was opening about a father sitting down with his son over dinner and talking to him about drugs. The next day, they go to a baseball game in San Francisco and the father gives a standing ovation to Barry Bonds. What kind of message does that send?”
The Taylor Hooton Foundation has several impressive partners: MLB, DEA, USADA, Dick Butkus’ “Mean and Clean” campaign. But it needs a face.
“Somebody has to put goodness in front of money,” he said.
A wish for the holidays.
