Dear Jason Giambi...Thanks for Coming Clean

Dear Jason Giambi,

From the bottom of my sports-loving heart—thank you. 

Not for anything you've done on the field (although I was particularly fond of the two home runs you hit in Game Seven of the 2003 ALCS against the Red Sox), but for the things you said in USA Today last week on the subject of your own use of performance-enhancing drugs:

I was wrong for doing that stuff.  What we should have done a long time ago was stand up, players, ownership, everybody, and said: "We made a mistake." We should have apologized back then and made sure we had a rule in place and gone forward. Steroids and all of that was a part of history. But it was a topic that everybody wanted to avoid. Nobody wanted to talk about it.

Someone in baseball needed to say it. 

As Barry Bonds gets ready to pass Hank Aaron at the top of the all-time home run list, it's nice to know there's at least one person in the hallowed fraternity of Major League Baseball who feels bad about taking performance-enhancing drugs.  And it's nice to see a millionaire superstar acknowledge the overwhelming disappointment baseball fans feel about the state of the game—especially when it seems as if most players couldn't care less.   

Not surprisingly, Jason, your words have caused a lot of controversy.  Some, like me, think you were right for speaking up.  Baseballs fans do deserve an apology.  Not only from you, but—as you suggest—from owners, players, and league officials.  I'd also like to see some mea culpas from the sports media that turned a blind eye to steroid use as players' bodies inflated and balls flew out of the yard.

Others think you're a hypocrite.  Who is Giambi to criticize anyone?, they say.  He's a liar, a cheater, and a steroid user.  Why is he talking about steroids now?  He should have talked about them years ago.  

  

And maybe they have a point.  Maybe you are, or at least were, all of those things.  Maybe you should have been up front from the beginning. 

 

But at least you're trying to repent. 

 

You're making an effort.  You've apologized.  You've admitted you used the "stuff."  It's a step in the right direction.  It's something.  Let's call it a start.

 

Of course, the rest of the game's suspected juicers have either denied using outright or made excuses for doing so.  We'll call it the flaxseed oil defense.  I mean, even Rafael Palmeiro, a man who was caught red-handed just months after adamantly telling Congress he'd never taken steroids, has yet to admit to any wrongdoing.  

 

And something tells me he won't be following your example any time soon.

 

As for you, Jason—you're probably going to pay a steep price for the fatal mistake of speaking out and telling the truth. Bud Selig's underlings are "looking into" your statements, presumably so they can suspend you. 

 

I wonder if the punishment is really for the drug use...or if it's because you didn't keep your mouth shut and play the denial game that baseball has become so good at. 

 

The Yankees, meanwhile, are reportedly exploring whether they can use your admission as an excuse to void the remainder of your $120 million contract.  Call me crazy, but something tells me they might not be as eager to run you out of the Bronx if you'd had A-Rod's numbers in April.

 

I for one am eager to see how the rest of the baseball community reacts to your call for apologies.  Will Selig ever take full responsibility for letting the integrity of the game deteriorate on his watch? Will other players come clean, or will they continue to walk the company line? 

 

Call me a cynic, Mr. Giambi, but I have a feeling it'll be business as usual.  And in the coming weeks, while your league and your team do everything in their power to close the can of worms you've just opened, Barry Bonds is certain to break one of the most sacred records in the game and bask in the glory of baseball immortality.

 

I'm sorry you have to take the heat for being a small part of a much larger problem, Jason—but I'm glad you spoke up. 

 

Someone had to.

 

 

Thanks again,

 

Dave

 

 

P.S. In the interest of fairness, I must admit I did take extraordinary exception to one of your statements last week:

 

That stuff didn't help me hit home runs. I don't care what people say, nothing is going to give you that gift of hitting a baseball.

 

It may not have helped you hit the baseball, Mr. Giambi, but it certainly helped you hit it further.  And if the "stuff" didn't help you, then why did you ever take it in the first place?