B-12 Injection

Vitamin B-12 has the primary use of treating a rare form of anemia. However, according to an Oregonian story, “it is also often implicated in steroids-related cases.” The intended use of injection for people with anemia is to build fresh cells and protect nerves. Justin Gatlin, a world record-sharing sprinter was recently suspended from the sport for eight years after testing positive for steroid use. Gatlin said this came two weeks after he thought he was injecting a shot of B-12 given to him by an assistant coach, not a banned substance. Gatlin stated his suspension was too severe, considering he did not know he was taking a banned substance. I cannot imagine any athlete who would voluntarily confess to taking illegal drugs. It would be in his or her best interest to place the blame on someone else. The steroid use among sports figures these past few months alone have been covering the sports sections of newspapers. It is getting old, and I don’t want to read about it anymore. Eight years is a long time, and this could potentially mark the end of Justin Gatlin’s sprinting career, but he made the ultimate decision to inject himself with a substance that he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. The punishment is harsh yes, but it is also fair. When you put yourself in the public eye your job in not only as an athlete, but also as a role model. Gatlin failed in both those aspects, and he deserves to be punished.

Should We Call Him A-Roid?

Alex Rodriguez, Major League Baseball’s pretentious pretty boy, has reportedly fallen into the deep depths of the steroid controversy. Apparently, Stray Rod is an abuser of the synthetic syringe. But, I just cannot fathom A-Rod, the Golden Boy himself, stooping to such unscrupulous measures to guarantee his place in the discussion of Baseball’s best ever.

Well, wait one minute before we castrate the man. Remember the ancient principle, consider the source? This situation is exactly why that rule was created. Wheeler dealer, book peddling Jose Canseco prompted the discussion when he claimed he “had some stuff” on the Yanks third baseman.

Yeah, a really creditable source. NOT!

For anyone who hasn’t stepped into the “scandalous” section at Powell’s lately, Canseco wrote a book called Juiced a few years ago, calling out suspected steroid abusers like Rafael Palmeiro and Mark McGwire. Maybe he was right, but then maybe he was simply bankrupt and thought composing a book to shed light on former friends drug habits would garner enough money to crossover the poverty line. Regardless, where is the loyalty, Jose?

Honestly, I loathe A-Rod as a person. He is a greedy, selfish little brat. However, I have the utmost respect for him as a player. His skill set is about as rare as encountering water in the Sahara Desert. For that reason alone, I doubt he needs to bolster his performance level.

There has been a throng of suspected steroid users in MLB, such as Barry Bonds, Sammy Sosa, McGwire and Palmeiro, to name a few. Though, of the alleged abusers, Rodriguez is the least likely to be guilty in my mind.

A-Rod has been a consistent power hitter throughout his career. Since breaking into the Major Leagues in 1994, where Rodriguez had zero homers in 54 at bats, he has failed to reach 25 homeruns only twice. His numbers peaked in 2001-02, with 52 and 57 homeruns respectively. However, those were his first two seasons as a Texas Ranger, meaning his home ballpark was The Ballpark in Arlington, where the fourth most homers were slammed in 2002.

A quick glimpse at his physique unveils that he is a natural athlete. His muscles are not bulging out of his uniform like McGwire and he does not have a forehead the size of a melon like Bonds. The consistency argument applies again because, with the exception of his first couple seasons in Seattle, A-Rod has always looked the same. Sure, he has developed muscle mass over the years, but it has been in gradual stages. Reality is he has never arrived at spring training with 40 additional pounds of sheer muscle.

Looks like Canseco finally realized he as good as extinct in the public eye, or maybe he’s just broke again and needs to compose another tell-all book to ensure financial stability.

Swingin' for Steroids

Crack, smack and thud.

Those are the sounds fans in San Francisco have become all too familiar to hearing from Barry Bonds' 32 oz lumber. And after Bonds victimized another innocent bystander, taking Livan Hernandez deep on Friday night, the man who preaches, “In roids we trust,” has inched within five homers of 755 career diggers and a tie with The Homerun King Hank Aaron.

Like the 441 pitchers Bonds has smashed homers off, we, the loyal, dedicated baseball faithful, are becoming victims of his homerun record pursuit. The number that separates Bonds, representative of everything wrong in professional sports, from Aaron, a genuine, respectable slugger, is no longer triple digits, or double digits, or more than ten, even. I can count the number on one hand- five. One, two, three, four and five. That’s all BB needs until he can rightfully snatch the crown from atop Aaron’s head, where it fits so nicely, and place it just above his steroid-induced, oversized forehead.

I know media pundits and aficionados have grumbled, jeered and sneered at Bonds’ attempt to claim sports’ most heralded record for years, but now it’s time to turn it up a notch. Many are underestimating the significance this event holds in sports history. Bonds, a guy bound so tightly in steroid investigations that I’m surprised circulation to his extremities haven’t been cut off yet, is possibly five swings away from being recognized as the best homerun hitter of all time, and the fans that drive the sport suddenly don’t care. This is ludicrous, preposterous, ridiculous, and (insert any synonym for absolutely absurd).

Bonds chase of Hank Aaron and his sacred record has become a ticking time bomb on the verge of detonating, consequently destroying baseball as we know it. Tomorrow he might hit number 751, and the digital screen resting on the bomb’s side will clearly read “4.” Then the next day he hits 752, and the screen displays a “3.” Then two, one and eventually zero, or effectively the end of baseball. Fans will be rushing for the exits and managers resigning, because the game will then be over, complete, finished. We will all know the sport is bogus, as a quick glance at the huge scoreboard hanging above Major League Baseball reveals: Steroids 1 Baseball 0. The ugly syringe will have claimed victory, once and for all.

Wake up everyone and feel the urgency, because Bonds’ recording setting homerun isn’t going to be a line drive that barely clears the leftfield wall, no it will be a blast that forces baseball in the deep depths of obscurity. It might not transpire immediately, but soon enough baseball will be resting six feet under beside the likes of soccer, hockey and, most insultingly, the Winter Olympics. That is, unless we pipe up first.