I have always maintained that when it comes right down to it, the majority of people don’t actually care about steroid use in sports, rather they’re offended by the personalities of the alleged offenders. Beyond the hue and cry of an uneven playing field, ignoring the fact that such a thing arguably never existed, look no further than to how people have reacted to the supposed steroid scandal over the last decade.
There’s been a litany of books detailing the pervasiveness of steroids in American athletics over the last decade, but what makes the news, what dominates the headlines, is not the actual details of the steroid use itself, it’s the salacious, seedy tidbits which titillate and create bestsellers. Game of Shadows, didn’t captivate with details of Barry Bonds’ alleged steroid regimen. Rather, it was the detailing of Bonds’ racially motivated jealously towards Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa, his unseemly relationship with Kimberly Bell, Victor Conte’s lack of medical training and Marion Jones surly, outrageous behavior behind the scenes. Ditto for Jeff Pearlman’s The Rocket That Fell To Earth. People weren’t captivated by scenes of Clemens being injected by Brian McNamee, it was the details of his relationship with an underage Mindy Mcready and other such disasters that made the book a bestseller. Same with Jose Canseco’s tome, Juiced, people ripped the book off the shelves simply to be in the know of who was using and who was not. Steroid use may have been the motivating factor behind all three of these bestsellers, but it’s not what got them flying off the shelves and kept them on the bestseller list. (I’ll admit it though, I was one of the few saps who was legitimately entertained by Canseco’s ramblings) 
Today, with the latest allegations regarding Lance Armstrong’s use of performance enhancing drugs making the headlines and the revelation that the Los Angeles Dodgers owe Manny Ramirez $8.33 Million dollars months after the steroid using slugger sauntered away from the game after testing positive, it’s only a matter of time before some hack writer or blowhard with a microphone, unlike yours truly, begins opining how steroids have ruined sports and corrupted the youth of America. The talking heads will inevitably pound their chest with unfounded righteousness, sermonizing against the alleged cheats and mourning over the lost purity of organized sports.
In the end however, it’s all just white noise. American sports fans and more specifically, the American sports media, are a duplicitous bunch. They enjoy spitting on the visages of toppled sports legends and dancing on the graves of once sterling reputations, but are more than willing to stand and cheer when their hulking slugger of choice launches a moon shot out of the yard or their teams 270 pound linebacker with 2% body fat launches himself like a heat seeking missile at a wiry receiver. I do it too, however I also recognize the perhaps inconvenient truth that in the end Americans don’t really care about steroids in sports or entertainment.
It’s certainly not reflected in game attendance. Major League Baseball attendance peaked in the 2007 season, three years after the end of the supposed steroid era, before dipping slightly in the next three seasons. That drop in attendance probably had more to do with the onset of the economic recession rather than any disgust over the perceived prevalence of steroid users in the MLB. The steroid scandal didn’t keep people out of the stands. Similarly, the NFL saw attendance soar through much of the past decade before suffering a slight downturn this past season and again that was most likely influenced by economics rather than an unwillingness to cheer for the muscular denizens of the gridiron.
Ditto for television ratings. The NFL has seen ratings climb throughout the decade with four of the last three Superbowls setting successive rating records for the most watched television events on the planet.
Jersey sales are through the roof across sports. Memorabilia and merchandise flies off the shelves, all in what we’re told is an era wrought with chemically enhanced athletes and drug cheats. If Americans are disgusted with drug use in their major sports and demanding a cleanup, they have a funny way of showing it.
Forget sports, just look at American icons of the last four decades. Arnold dominated the eighties and we loved his pumped up persona so much we made him governor of the country’s most populous and richest state. Stallone still draws a crowd, albeit dwindling, to theaters and his “Rocky” statue is a Philly landmark. Pro wrestling dominated the television ratings of the late nineties and Hulk Hogan is still a recognizable and marketable celebrity. Today, the “gorillas” of the Jersey Shore clog the airwaves. And that’s fine; in fact it’s just consistent with the fact that when it comes right down to it we really don’t care about steroid use in sports or entertainment. We’ll boo and hiss, then immediately gawk and ooh and ah as the next muscle bound celebrity struts past.
Americans can tolerate the reformed drug user, what they can’t stand is the liar, the entitled sports star or celebrity who refuses to fess up once caught. They bristle at the seedy underbelly of celebrity once it is revealed, but steroid use is hardly what hold their attention for an extended period of time and causes them to demand a particular star pay dearly for this transgression.
Want proof?
“Big Papi” still wows the crowd at Fenway, Rodney Harrison has a pretty cushy gig on NBC, Giambi still sneers in Colorado and Andy Pettite is thought of as a stand up guy in most baseball circles.
The difference between those sports stars and reviled individuals like Bonds and Clemens is that once caught, they offered penance and did their obligatory walk of shame. Americans can deal with a conciliatory, crestfallen athlete, in fact they prefer it. What they can’t handle and won’t accept is surliness and a holier than thou attitude.
It doesn’t even have to be a particularly good or forceful apology or explanation to be effective. Big Papi apparently wandered into a bizarro GNC, where ‘roids are next to Metamucil tablets. Rodney Harrison only did it once to heal from an injury, apparently forgetting to cancel his subscription as vials of HGH allegedly still made it to his doorstep through three seasons. Nobody even remembers that A-Rod denied using in a horribly scripted interview with Peter Gammons, before admitting he used in a horribly scripted press conference. All was forgiven.
In comparison, Clemens and Bonds denied, denied, denied. Bonds sparred with federal prosecutors, Clemens attacked his accuser and testified, clumsily, in front of a Congressional panel. Rafael Palmeiro waved his finger at representatives; Sammy Sosa forgot how to speak English. It also didn’t help that in the case of Clemens, Bonds and soon perhaps, Armstrong, that these were and are well documented assholes. America begrudgingly embraces a talented asshole, but it sure as hell will not tolerate an unrepentant, arrogant asshole. Just ask Lebron how his Q rating is doing lately.
We wanted to hear them grovel for forgiveness because in the end that’s what we as Americans truly care about, it’s what we get off on. We simply want those caught doing something wrong to stand up and take their prescribed medicine. We’ll revel for a short while in their fall from grace and then slowly place them back up on a pedestal, albeit a shorter one. By denying the allegations, people like Bonds and Clemens simply made their sagas into bigger sideshows than they already were and brought first federal investigators and later opportunistic politicians down on their case.
It all could have been avoided with a short, even disingenuous mea culpa (see Mark McGwire).
Look, I’m not endorsing or condoning the use of performance enhancing drugs by athletes, nor am I advocating their dissemination among today’s youth, but I’m also not going to claim that the prevalence of such chemicals has dampened my enthusiasm for professional sports. And judging by statistics, it hasn’t dampened yours or millions of Americans either. In the end, we really just don’t care.
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