Repeating History

If there is one thing left that baseball has going for it, then that one thing would surely be history. The NBA's past is violent and archaic compared to today's game. The NFL barely resembles the league it used to be, even as late as the 1980s. But baseball, by and large, is the same game now as it was in 1997 or 1897. Except, you know, that it isn't.

For some reason, Major League Baseball, its fans and sports writers as a whole, like to pretend that the Steroid Era didn't change anything; that with "The Year of the Pitcher" and the decline of Roger Clemens and Mark McGwire, the whole black period is behind us. As if somehow we can just slice that piece of baseball's history off like a tumor, and hope that it didn't spread to the rest of the body.

Which is why, I presume, there is outrage when you entertain the idea that Jose Bautista could be on steroids. It's unfair, they say. Just because he is having a career year doesn't mean he should be lumped into a group of cheaters in the 1990s.

But career years aren't usually defined by hitting 250% more home runs than your previous season high, which was 4 years ago, and it's only August. This stands out like a sore thumb. As did McGwire, Barry Bonds and Sammy Sosa stood out when they started murdering baseballs and breaking decade old records like it was old hat. Nobody stood up then to ask any questions. It's unfair, they said.

I'm not even suggesting that Bautista is using. But shouldn't we at least be asking the question? The reason the Steroid Era was allowed to thrive was because nobody would point out the obvious. I thought the lesson learned was to point out statistical anomalies so that this would never happen again.

Of course, you can't just flat out test the guy because he's smashing the ball. But we should look to next year. If he trends back towards his career average, then chalk it up to a fluke. But if he approaches 40 home runs again, and then again? Time to investigate.

Yes, it is unfair, but the Steroid Era is to blame. The game simply is not the same. Not yet, anyway. And until every sign and stench from that period is washed away, current players will have to suffer the consequences of their predecessors. Either that, or we turn a blind eye and repeat the tainted history that led us here.

Knowing baseball people, pretending like the game is fine is the likeliest of scenarios. They just better pray, and pray hard, that Jose Bautista is clean.

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Contract Killers

I am pro-celebrity. While others stand around the water cooler making fun of Tom Cruise and Lindsey Lohan, I understand how they and other crazy famous people got that way. When gossipers proclaim their disgust when the rich and famous complain about, well, being rich and famous, I side with the faces I see on the magazines. I rarely ever bitch about those who have it all.

So when I cringe upon hearing guys like Darrelle Revis say they aren't making enough millions, it's not because I can't relate to disputing over two or four million dollars. It's because the simple fact that millions are on the table is what makes every decision in sports life or death. Getting rid of Revis would cripple the Jets, and he knows that. He holds all the leverage. Well, he would if there wasn't a lockout looming anyways.

Nothing makes this more clear than what's happening in St. Joseph, Missouri.

Last week I attended my first Chiefs training camp. I was pumped. If I was still sixteen, I might have even been stoked. There was little that could have happened that would drain my excitement. Except, of course, seeing Matt Cassel.

In a word, the Chiefs' #1 quarterback has been awful. He just doesn't look like a starting NFL quarterback. Since he was eighteen years old, the only time Cassel has looked good as a starter was when he was paired with the likes of Randy Moss and Wes Welker. Last year's struggles were mainly blamed on the team as a whole being bad. But with nobody near him, simply running drills, he looked like he couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. If nobody knew who he was, not one person attending would've figured he was the de facto starter.

But we do know who he is, and most importantly, what he makes. He is the $63 million dollar man, and you don't let that much money rot on the bench, even if it helps your team.

The Oakland Raiders know this. They continually trotted out JaMarcus Russell, though it was obvious to everyone that he didn't belong on the field. But Russell was the Raiders' #1 pick, and they couldn't justify letting his contract sit. The result was an okay Raiders team being sent to the slaughter every week because the most important position was being occupied by a purple drank drinking bust. If everyone on the team made equal pay, or drastically less, then the decision to say "we screwed that pick up" could have been made.

And I fear Matt Cassel will be the Chiefs' JaMarcus Russell. At this point, Brodie Croyle is the far superior quarterback, but will play second fiddle because of all the money tied up in Cassel. The same goes with defensive lineman Tyson Jackson, who, excluding this year's rookies, is the 13th highest paid player in the league. If anyone has looked worse than Cassel, it's Jackson. But you don't sit the 13th highest paid player. Not even if he's horrible.

I could care less about holdouts and gold digging rookies. The players can get paid, so they do everything in their power to get paid more. I get it. What kills me is how much power that money gives players, and how it strips decisions from coaches. The 2010 Chiefs will be worse because of those two contracts, and there is nothing coach Todd Haley or anyone else can do about it. If he sits Cassel and Jackson, he may get fired. If he plays them and the team tanks, he could get fired as well, and we'll all think of him as a bad coach, when in reality he was doing all he could to win.

This is not sports, it's economics, and bad economics at that. It's also the way it will always be from here on out. I just hope Haley has the balls to play the best players, not the highest paid. But I'm not holding my breath.

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