Steroid scandals won't kill the game, By: Brad Rock

August 11, 2006, Deseret Morning News

      Every week, it seems, there is another story about cheaters and/or suspected cheaters. This week it was a New York Daily News report, claiming former slugger Mark McGwire won't cooperate with Sen. George Mitchell's investigation into performance-enhancing drugs.
      Big Mac wants nothing to do with the investigation, the story said.
      The man who stated at a congressional hearing that he was "not here to talk about the past," specifically doesn't want to talk about HIS past. Maybe he's just a forward-looking guy. Or maybe he's a liar.
      He'll be fine if they'll just leave him alone to be voted into the Hall of Fame next year — and don't ask any questions.
      This year's roll call of suspected cheats is long. Among them, Barry It's-a-Media-Conspiracy Bonds, Marion I-Was-Framed Jones, Floyd It's-a-French-Conspiracy Landis and Trevor I'm-Only-the-Coach Graham. Then there were the cyclists who were banned from the Tour de France before it even began.
      It's enough to make you wonder if everyone's cheating.
      I admit, being a sports columnist can make a person skeptical.
      Watching a few thousand games tends to take the gee-whiz out of the experience. The only time I feel a tingle go down my spine at a sporting event anymore is when I drink too much Dr. Pepper.
      Even so, I hate to see this happening, because I don't always know if the guy I'm writing about after a momentous performance cheated by taking steroids.
      Skepticism aside, I experienced what motivational speakers love to call a paradigm shift recently. I was watching a Salt Lake County recreation league softball game at Harmony Park. They were playing for nothing, not even Cokes, and loving every minute. The players laughed and joked but went all-out to win; the fans cheered.
      Nobody asked for a contract renegotiation and clearly no one was using steroids. They were playing just for the fun.
      Performance-enhancing drugs were a million miles away. When one game ended, another was right behind.
      Last week I was at AT&T Park with my family, catching a Giants game while we were on vacation. My wife was content to look across McCovey Cove as night fell. My two daughters actually seemed to enjoy the game nearly as much as they did the $6 hot dogs and $5 soft drinks.
      I entertained myself by muttering unmentionables every time Bonds came to bat. He went 0-for-4 that night, which made it worth the price of admission as far as I was concerned.
      But when the Giants made a comeback and cut Washington's lead to two, to my amazement, my wife and kids began cheering. The cool night, the smell of roasted almonds, the red infield and green grass must have got to them. I had bought tickets in the cheap seats, mainly because I didn't expect the kids to stay more than an inning or two. I thought they would whine about being bored until I finally gave up and took them back to the hotel.
      Turned out I had to talk them into leaving in the eighth inning so we didn't have to wait for a cab.
      That's when it dawned on me that if people are still playing and watching for fun at county rec games all across America, and if my kids can attend a game on a breezy night in San Francisco and come away saying they had a great time, there's still hope.
      The games are still more important than the players.
      Not even Bonds, McGwire, Landis and the rest of the suspected cheaters can wreck that.
      The way scandal-weary sports continue to survive reminds me of a shopworn but still popular movie line, in which the guy takes a beating, really gets messed up. But instead of cowering, he drags himself back on his feet, holding his midsection, gasping in pain, and croaks, "Is that all ya got?"
      If selfishness, egotism, crime, $50 seats and $6 hot dogs haven't killed off the games, neither will steroids.