It seems that the use of performance enhancing drugs has become so prevalent among Major League Baseball’s top players that the record books will never again have any real meaning. As a former baseball loving youngster who grew up studying those cherished tomes with a level of dedication and reverence that rivaled that of a Baptist minister studying the Bible, it saddens me to no end to see the game I love in the mess it’s in today.
A preponderance of the evidence shows that Barry Bonds almost certainly used the juice to break the game’s two most hallowed hitting records, and as I write this pitching ace Roger Clemens is sweating through a congressional hearing, denying allegations that he was injected by his former trainer on at least one occasion – which if true might help explain his astounding 354 career wins.
The worst part of this seemingly endless nightmare is the way it has tainted the American pastime so much that I don’t think it can ever fully recover. The “field of dreams” has been replaced by a dark landscape that bears little, if any resemblance to the ball parks of my youth.
It truly is a shame that future generations of little boys will likely never have the opportunity to put on a crisp, freshly-washed uniform and step up to home plate, bat in hand, and dream of achieving success and fame on a par with that enjoyed by the late greats Babe Ruth and Roger Maris. After all, given the way the game has been perverted, who would even give them the honor they rightly deserved if they did?
How sad, our “heros” are leading our kids down the primrose path.