By now, you’ve probably heard that the Yankees’ Aaron Judge hit his 62nd home run Tuesday night, eclipsing the American League single-season record he shared with Roger Maris.
What you haven’t heard is much discussion about performance-enhancing drugs. To be clear, Judge has never been accused of using steroids, never tested positive for a PED and very well could be as clean as a drill sergeant’s boots.
But you’d think that after what baseball went through with the steroid era, after the embarrassment of Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa, after Barry Bonds and his enormous head, after the congressional hearings, someone might stop and ponder the phenomenon of one person hitting 23 more home runs than his closest competitor in the AL this season.
The scrutiny should be on Judge because of baseball’s sordid past. But the scrutiny should really be on us, media and viewing public alike, for setting off confetti cannons without any thought that we might be getting fooled again.
We in the media framed Judge’s pursuit of Maris’ record as the first legitimate home run-record chase “since the steroid era.” Putting it in that context gave Judge separation from baseball’s ugly history and allowed the rest of us to make note of the mess and move on quickly.
Why the rush? Because we want to be fair? Sure. Because the presumption of innocence comes before guilt? Of course. But mostly it’s because we want heroes. We’d prefer that our heroes be drug-free because we love cowboys with white hats. But we’re not picky. Many baseball fans don’t care that McGwire and Sosa were a traveling pharmaceutical exhibit as they traded dingers in their epic 1998 home run chase. The rationalization now is that “everyone” was using PEDs during the era and therefore that the playing field was level. Apparently — and I didn’t know this — if everyone is burning down all the houses in a five-square-mile area, burning down houses is legal.
That might have been an early instance of what is now commonplace in our world: the idea that the truth doesn’t matter.
That the 6-foot-7, 282-pound Judge has been given a free pass from inspection isn’t surprising, but you’d think more people would have their defenses up. You’d think after slathering Lance Armstrong with adulation and then getting burned by the disgraced Tour de France rider, more people would look at Judge and wonder if what they’re seeing is real.
You’d think someone would say, “What Aaron Judge doing is amazing, but I’m going to put aside some of my ardor as a defense against getting hurt again.’’
You’d think we would have learned our lesson after McGwire, Sosa, Roger Clemens and all the others.
But, no, there was Maris’ son, Roger Jr., saying what everyone wanted to hear in the days leading up to Judge’s 62nd home run.
“He plays the game the right way,” he said. “And I think it gives people the chance to look at somebody who should be revered for hitting 62 home runs, and not just a guy who hit it in the American League, but for being the actual single-season home run champion. That’s who he is. It’s 62, and I think that’s what needs to happen.”
That was a clear shot at Bonds, the former Giant whose single-season record of 73 home runs was powered by much more than protein shakes. But how does Maris Jr. or anybody else really know if Judge is clean? Why take the leap into complete conviction? If drug testing in sports has taught us anything, it’s that the cheaters are always ahead of the science of testing. Again, I’m not accusing Judge of anything. I’m accusing the rest of us of dangerously low levels of skepticism.
The insidious thing about the steroid era was that every player was suspect. If home run records were falling like leaves and home-run production in general was up steeply, then all players had to be thrown into the pit of doubt. And how did fans deal with that? By blaming everybody and everything but the cheaters. So it wasn’t Sosa who was evil for having seasons of 64, 63 and 66 home runs. It was then-commissioner Bud Selig for turning a blind eye to steroids because home runs were good for business.
But we apparently don’t have to worry about that now. The game is clean.
You might accuse me of allowing cynicism to overpower skepticism. I would plead guilty to that. I would also point out that last weekend, two men were accused of placing weights and filets inside fish in their bid to win a walleye tournament on Lake Erie. I would add that a cheating scandal is rocking the chess world.
Humans have a long history of being bad people.
Cynicism has robbed me of some of my sports joy, but it’s protected me from a whole lot more pain.
