As a Yankees fan, my reaction to today’s news can be nothing but euphoric. I have nothing against David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez personally (I rather like the latter), but it’s very, very satisfying to put to rest the notion that the Yankees cheat while the underdog Red Sox scratch and claw and hustle their way to victory.
But when the dust settles, my take on the situation remains the same. It remains shameful that the supposedly anonymous 2003 testing samples had names attached to them, and inexplicable that these samples weren’t destroyed after they had served their purpose. The still-unrevealed players were promised anonymity and don’t deserve to have their names released, but then again, how is that fair to Alex Rodriguez, Ortiz, and Ramirez? At this point, it’s clear that baseball – the league office, team management, union representation, writers, and every other group that comprises the institution – has handled this situation in the worst way possible. For me, the most damaging effect of this saga isn’t the realization that many of the game’s most prominent players cheated their way to fame and into our hearts. I simply can’t get worked up about that. No, it’s the realization that those that were entrusted with protecting and nurturing the game I love categorically failed to carry out their ultimate responsibility. That’s what makes me lose faith in the game, not the cheating.
At least we’re mere days away from “2004*, 2007*” shirts being available for purchase outside Yankee Stadium.