[Previous entry: "My Way or the Subway"] [Next entry: "Gettin' Lucky"]
12/02/2004: "Needled"
Everyone knew.
When Jason Giambi showed up at spring training last year, it was obvious. It wasn't something anyone could print, or say without getting sued, but that didn't make it any less transparent.
After the company that had allegedly provided Giambi with steroids was busted, all of a sudden he shows up in Tampa looking about 30 pounds lighter.
You don't lose that kind of weight just from eating a lot of salads. Not when you're already in athletic shape.
Actually, somebody should give a test to that carrot.
Anyway, Giambi then went out and had the worst season of his career, hitting just 12 home runs and playing in just 80 games as he battled various injuries, including a tumor.
Did the tumor have to do with the steroids? How about his gimpy knees in the 2003 playoffs? What about this? What about that?
Know what? I don't care. Everyone has choices to make, and Giambi made his. If it's the difference between setting your family up with total financial security and having a lifetime of struggles ahead, I don't know how you make that choice when presented with the needle. I've never been in that situation, and I'd like to say that I wouldn't do it, but I'll never know.
And it's not like it's a guarantee. For every guy who becomes MVP, there's a Jeremy Giambi, too. You've still got to hit the ball.
But how do you go to bed every night knowing that all you have, you have because you cheated? How do you live with that?
For some reason, though, I don't feel betrayed. I don't even feel angry, or any kind of sense of indignation as a sports fan. Maybe it's because I know that Giambi has a big enough burden to shoulder on his own, but I think it's really because it was so obvious all along.
