Ryan Braun, Milwaukee Brewers outfielder and reigning National League MVP, recently underwent the most damaging trial of his career. Sure, he escaped punishment, but he'll go into the record books with an indelible asterisk next to his name.
What Braun did is unusual, to say the least. After reportedly failing a drug test with elevated levels of testosterone, he appealed before a panel of three arbitrators who, upon hearing and seeing whatever ?? a word I use to underscore the MLB's secrecy in these sorts of proceedings ?? evidence was presented, absolved him of any punishment and overruled a looming 50?game suspension due to an irregularity in the shipping of his urine sample.
And as far as a backlash, there really was none. The reaction among players especially was neither visceral nor disbelieving, but skeptical. Marlon Byrd, a friend of Braun's who plays for the Brewers' NL Central rival Chicago Cubs, had this to say, according to the Chicago Tribune: "It's just that some people want to hear more about what really happened ?? what went down ?? the technicality of everything not being shipped out at the right time."
Byrd's teammate, pitcher Jeff Samardzija, felt similar reluctance. "It seems like there's just a lot going on, like the more it goes on, there's more questions," said the former two?sport standout at Notre Dame, according to the Tribune.
I held my breath throughout this ordeal, yet I was about as far removed from it as the next layperson. Thankfully, there was no earth?shattering discovery as was concomitant with the release of the Mitchell Report in December 2007; in fact, he will almost certainly fare better than both Barry Bonds and Mark McGwire, the sport's two most notable substance abusers. After all, Braun will not serve a suspension for using performance?enhancing drugs.
As of the last five years or so, I've typically had minimal vested interest in baseball aside from compelling stories, crazy endings, and Ozzie Guillen. My Mets have tanked year after year, and I've thought it unfair that a team condemned to eternal failure by some divine spirit be the scourge of my affliction.
Maybe it's because I'm Jewish, maybe it's because I once dreamt of playing a professional sport, or maybe it's because of my affinity for those who emphatically disprove the old adage "nice guys finish last." But, the primary reason notwithstanding, I admire Ryan Braun for all he has accomplished over the course of his five?year career and I worry sincerely about the ever?increasing rarity of a blemish?free professional athlete.
Heightened scrutiny and proliferation of drug tests will undoubtedly beget more stories like Braun's. That's a good thing. But when guys like him become the focal point of such stories, I can't help but think that cheating can infect even the most respectable athletes.
I cannot stress enough the importance of exposing drug abuse and other methods of cutting corners. Sometimes, though, I don't want to believe what I read or what I see. When I was younger, I looked up to these guys, players whose seemingly inimitable feats of athleticism astounded me to no end.
In the wake of each suspension or trial or accusation, that fragment of hope ?? the whimsical notion that baseball is still mainly an uncontaminated game ?? shrinks a bit more. I want so much to be able to convince myself that Ryan Braun has never touched steroids, but I, just like Marlon Byrd and Jeff Samardzija, am not immune to suspicion.
Fans and bandwagoners alike know well that the naive, childlike tenor of a grown man's game is what gives baseball its luster, and so retaining that quality is essential to its success. I want him to be clean; I need him to be clean ?? for me, for him, for the good of the game.
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