So You Want to Be the Home Run King? Don't Forget Your Asterisk

I was a small boy. I used to ride my bike down the highway and collect empty bottles and tin cans.  I would take them to the local convenience store, and trade them in for change.  At five cents a pop, it didn't take long to buy a pack or two of baseball trading cards.  I coveted Don Mattingly, any card with his image and stats would make me beam.

A couple years later, I am standing in the outfield.  On my hand an old worn out Mizuno glove of my grandfathers, who was the only other lefty in my family before my children.  The smell of grass, the breeze above my head, parents yelling at kids to pay attention.  Little League. 

I played on many local teams that were riddled with friends from all over my area.  We played twice a week and when we weren't playing for the league we were all still meeting out there to put together our own teams, and compete.  We all wanted to be picked first, no one wanted to be picked last. 

Fast forward a few years.  I'm in an airport in Miami to meet my father for the first time.  Turns out my father and I shared a similar interest in baseball.  In his closet was this worn old shoe box, or the treasure chest if you see it my way. 

He pulled out and handed me a Jackie Robinson card, a Hank Aaron Rookie, and a Mickey Mantle among others.  A gift for me.  We are talking about an 11 year old boy with the Mick's card in his hand.  Priceless.  And a Yankee fan for life at this point.

Time rolls on.  I'm standing in the first bases coaches box.  Reminding my son on first base to watch his third base coach for the sign.  He is about to steal a base.  My heart is pounding, he takes off, a great pitch and timely throw from the catcher meets him at second base.  He slides, hes safe.  He looks back at me smiling ear to ear.  I'm radiating pride.

My love for this game has been a part of my life as long as I can remember.  There are three absolutes in my world.  My family, my job, and baseball.  One of those three has a grip on me at any given time.  I'm completely fine with that.

I watched the sport and my team blossom into what it is today.  The good and the bad.  The ups and the downs.  There have been many turns on this road I so enjoy traveling.  What was once smooth sailing on the highway of baseball love, has turned into a rough ride on a pothole laden back street.

These times are really starting to damage my perception of the sport and the men playing it.  In particular, to covet something as monumental as the home run record for so long, only to have it shattered in more ways than one has really soured my taste for the greatness of the game. 

I turned my back on the home run record when Bonds broke it and tarnished it with his actions.  I refuse to recognize it and I still call Henry Aaron my home run king. 

One ray of hope, one glimmer of change was on the horizon.  I could stand silent long enough to watch the years pass and perhaps see someone else stand atop the home run mountain. One man could single handed knock Bonds right back where he belongs.  Out of the picture.  Alex Rodriguez was going to be that man.

Controversy aside, personal preferences aside, I have been elated to think that not only would that record be set straight by a legitimate player, but a Yankee.  It would soon be our record once again, set by a clean athlete. 

This morning, much like that home run record, those dreams of greatness were shattered.  SI.COM reported exclusively, that in 2003, during a random test to evaluate the prominence of illegal substances within the sport, Alex was one of 104 players to test positive for some type of PED.

How these results got out is a bit of an issue.  This information was leaked and is apparently not submittable according to some sources.  That being said, it is still information that was leaked.  The facts are still the same whether it was supposed to be leaked or not.  The fact of the matter is, this information further tarnishes and further prolongs this joke of a home run record. 

Now even if and when Rodriguez breaks this record, it will hold the same taint, the same question marks, the very same asterisk.  That asterisk is showing up more and more in this sport.  It is turning into a bit of a virus.  It seems every person in the sport has brushed up against this issue at some point or another.  Many greats of our time are now linked to this issue.

My home run king must be ashamed.  Surely he knew his record would some day fall.  Surely he hoped to meet the great baseball player who would someday match his might and power on a consistent enough basis to compete with his greatness. 

I'm sure Hank never once imagined it wold take a cheater to do it.  I'm sure he never once considered that when that time came it would require an explanation of how it was accomplished.  Hank will be the first to tell you, heart, dedication, and a little talent is all it takes.  If you can't get it like that don't bother trying.  If you can't do it natural, then you can't do it, simple as that. 

Both Bonds and Rodriguez are so talented and gifted that they very well could have broken this record on skill alone given enough time.  These accusations, and frankly their actions, have not only ruined their own reputations as great ball players, it has ruined the most coveted and recognizable of all sporting records.

I'm so tired.  I'm so damn sick and tired of this game I love being broken down to a circus side show by those fortunate, honored enough, and gifted enough to call it their living.  Is it not enough for these men to be great, is it not enough that they get to play a game for a living while we all wrestle with the real world? 

Do they have to cheat to further that gift?  Do they have to bend or break the rules to be greater?  Do they believe in their hearts that they are great, or just a better version of themselves by means of scientific advancement?  Who gives a rats ass what they think.   

I am done defending baseball and these jackasses who wish they were half as great as guys like the Mick or Robinson.  You know what, if the Mick can show up to a game so drunk that he sees three baseballs coming down the pipe, and still smack one out of the yard, then Arod can surely show up clean and free of enhancers and do the same. 

Today's home run record will stand for awhile longer.  It will be broken in our lifetime.  When it is, the clock starts over.  Who will be the next man be to lay claim to the chance of toppling what surely will become Arod's record, or should I say yours and my record.  Surely that time will come, and I will welcome it with open arms.  After this news, Arod is right next to Barry on the home run kings who can kiss my pucker list. 

I'm going out to play some catch with my boy.  I'm going to teach him the basics of the game, like we have done so many times before.  Then I'm going to have to tell him one of his heroes is a fraud.  I hope he learns from Arod's mistakes. 

Someday he may want to play ball in high school, and if Daddy is lucky perhaps some college ball.  I will raise him to never cheat, to trust his own natural ability and if that won't get the job done to move on to something else.  I'm going to remind him that it is his fortunate circumstances and his natural athletic talent that even allows him to play this game. 

I'm going to remind him to smell his glove, to touch the grass, to listen to the breeze.  Because that my friends is what baseball is all about.  Not personal glory, or records.  Those are bi products of the loving and playing the game.  My son already knows and will always be taught this. 

Someday he will look up to a new home run king.  A clean home run king.  A legitimate home run king.  And hopefully this happens in my lifetime.  Hopefully I die after the new true king has the crown firmly atop his head.  Hopefully by the time I pass, and my son is an old man too, asterisks will be something we used to talk about, a thing of the past, a rough patch in the rear view mirror on that highway of baseball love.