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Homers a drug for fans

Steroids do not turn off public

Shaun Powell

December 4, 2004

In a few days, all the fuss will fade. In a few months, the crack of the bat will pierce the air. A few months after that, another baseball season will open, and fans across the country finally will express their feelings about this steroid stuff.

They'll fill the ballparks, buy the jerseys and caps, eat overpriced hot dogs and cheer madly for guys named Giambi, Bonds and Sheffield, among others.

The fans will speak loudly, and based on their actions, this is what they'll say: Who cares what these guys are taking? Let's see some home runs!

Yes, in a dirty little business, this is the dirty little secret.

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The people who truly count are also the people who couldn't care less. The people who could put a stop to steroids would rather not. These people would rather sit back, enjoy the game, maybe catch a foul ball and if they're really lucky, grab one of those "juiced" home runs.

Baseball has just received another whack from steroids, the scourge of sports, and once again the outrage is mostly confined to the usual two sources: the sanctimonious sports media and, to a lesser and quieter degree, the players who came along before steroids and must watch their precious records get smashed.

The fans? Oh, please. Don't even go there. They just want to see some long ball. Oh, sure, a few baseball purists will gripe a little ... on their way to the ballpark. Most will shrug and flag down the popcorn vendor. You know who you are.

Just connect the dots: Ballplayer takes steroids to get better.

Owners condone steroids to get richer.

Fans accept steroids to get entertained.

Major league baseball has never been more popular. Yet another attendance record was set this season, and some ballparks are a tough ticket. Take SBC Park in San Francisco, for example. The place is jammed tighter than the Golden Gate Bridge at rush hour. Obviously, you know why. The biggest box- office attraction in the game is a strongly suspected steroid cheat who smacks fastballs and curveballs into the bay just beyond the rightfield wall.

Nothing makes a splash quite like the sight of Barry Bonds chasing the holy grail of baseball records.

If fans were truly angered, if they felt betrayed or even ripped off at the idea of Bonds passing Hank Aaron on the career home run list, they'd flex their financial clout and say enough is enough. They would protest with their wallets.

Isn't that what San Francisco is famous for, aside from sourdough and fog? Isn't it a city that won't tolerate injustice or dishonesty of any kind? Don't they average one demonstration a week out there?

Well, when Bonds and the Giants are in town, you don't see anyone marching en masse, unless it's toward the turnstiles. All of a sudden, rebellious San Francisco is just another sellout that's selling out the stadium.

It's not just one baseball-crazed city, it's all of them. The game itself was resurrected by steroids. After the 1994 strike, attendance was slow to return to pre-strike levels. The fans vented their frustration by not showing up in massive numbers and the game had an image problem.

Gradually, fans returned because they fell in love with the home run. Then Mark Mc.Gwire and Sammy Sosa, a pair of suspected cheats, had their epic home run contest and captured the passion of a country.

Tickets have sold briskly ever since.

Owners were able to build state-of-the-art palaces, partly because of steroids. Ballplayers began making even more money, partly because of steroids. The league, unwilling to kill the golden goose, didn't push for a strong drug policy. Hey, baseballs were flying out of the parks and fans were running into the parks.

Everyone involved was winning. Why screw that up?

That's why baseball finds itself in a sticky situation. Nobody bothered or really cared to clean up the sport. Especially fans.

Maybe that's the modern-day attitude. There's no major outcry about steroids from fans. They're too jaded about today's athletes to care, or they don't put too much stock in baseball's cherished history and records, or they simply want to see a ballgame and escape for a few hours. Or maybe all of the above.

The general feeling I get from most fans is this: Hey, it's their body. If athletes want to take the risks, fine.

So go ahead, guys. Take your steroids in the butt, in the belly, in the arm, down your throat, wherever and however. The people ultimately responsible for paying you those $100-million contracts don't care, just as long as you keep those home runs coming.

When the steroids stop and the homers drop, that's when fans will protest.