After years of saying it ain’t so, Sammy Sosa’s jig is up. While preparing for a Crosstown Classic that was ultimately rained out, Cubs Nation was less than shocked to receive the New York Times report that Sosa is on the list of players who failed 2003’s anonymous test for performance-enhancing drug use.
While no one can even pretend to be surprised by this development, I disagree with those who contend that this is not newsworthy. Until now, Sammy Sosa was the proud gladiator riding the noble steed of Truth and Justice. Despite the fact that the world watched him grow from a lithe and speedy 30-30 Club member to the Incredible Hulk, Sosa insisted his records were clean and his homers were real. Even as the reputations of his PED-popping contemporaries fell around him, Sosa maintained his purity. The man committed perjury at a congressional hearing on the subject and, as recently as a few months ago, Saint Sammy stated that he would “calmly wait” for his induction into the Hall of Fame after his retirement.
“I always played with love and responsibility and I assure you that I will not answer nor listen to rumors,” Sosa told ESPN. “If anything ugly comes up in the future, we will confront it immediately, but with all our strength because I will not allow anybody to tarnish what I did in the field.”
Ugly? Check. Tarnished? Check. Right about now, I’ll bet Sammy is wishing he had put that cork in his mouth instead of his bat. But it’s too late.
In the mid-to-late 1990s, there were only two Cubs worth watching—Sammy Sosa and Mark Grace. I am proud to count myself among the Gracie contingent and I spent most of Sosa’s heyday resenting his worldwide popularity and the fact that this self-serving glory hog was the face of the Chicago Cubs. Did I enjoy it when he saved the day with a mile-high home run? Of course. Like any die-hard Cubs fan, I want the Cubs to win and I will support any (legal) efforts to achieve that end. I wanted to believe the myth like so many Sosa fans seemed to, but between his self-serving style of play, propensity to swing for the fences on pitches that were low and away, and postgame sound bytes proclaiming his own godhood, Sosa managed to earn my infrequent applause, but never my admiration.
While the story of the baseball-loving kid in the Dominican Republic who grew up playing with a milk jug for a mitt is inspiring, the experience certainly didn’t teach Sammy any humility. Aside from the physical changes and the increase in his power numbers, Sosa’s ballooning ego was the real tipoff that he was a steroid abuser. His arrogance and insatiable lust for the spotlight made him a perfect candidate. [Side note: I think it’s time to start investigating agent Scott Boras. How many of his clients have been caught ‘roiding it now?]
It’s wrong to take pleasure in someone else’s misery, but I couldn’t help feeling vindicated when I heard the news today. Sosa will finally get what he deserves and I’m glad some conclusive proof came to light before the Cubs organization started beatifying him alongside true Cubs legends who earned their place in the annals of baseball history with hard work and real muscle. I can’t wait to hear Sosa’s interpretation of these new facts. I’m sure the test was incorrectly administered or his urine sample got mixed up with A-Rod’s.
After the epic 1998 home run chase that saved (and now clearly destroyed) baseball, a hero-worshipping animated movie about Sosa’s life and success was released. I think it’s time for a sequel. And the hero just officially became the villain.
Print
E-mail
Matt Paolelli
Matt Paolelli has been root, root, rooting for the Cubbies since before he could stand on his own during the Seventh Inning Stretch. More
Comments
Dang, pontificate much? You're talking about Sosa like he's friggin' bin Laden. Next time you skewer somebody for having a large ego, you might want to try doing it without all the self-aggrandizing machismo.
P.S. I actually like the writing. I just think you're taking the easy way out in your reaction. It's easy either to deny the allegations and cheer him forever or to hurl stones of judgment on him. Even if you didn't like him, the story deserves a little more thought than just an emotional attack on a vulnerable target.
Hey, it's fun to write with self-aggrandizing machismo!
The time for thoughtful analysis will come when Sosa gives his response. For now, I just needed to vent the disgust that has been simmering inside me for 10+ years.
On the other hand, the man cheated. It's fairly cut and dried, don't you think?
Hmm . . . for me, it's not that simple at all.
A) I don't trust journalists who rely solely on unnamed sources without doing the extra legwork to actually corroborate the accusations of their sources. The New York Daily News responded to this announcement with a story about Sosa working out in the DR with A-Rod's now infamous trainer for 3 yrs. Good corroboration . . . EXCEPT they didn't even name THEIR source. Aaaargh! (If you can't tell, my simmering frustration is directed elsewhere.)
B) Roger Clemens is guilty as sin (no offense, sin) and we know for a fact he was not alone among the pitching community. So who benefited more from PEDs, hitters or hurlers? Yes, cheating is wrong no matter what, but the question still lingering in my mind is, to what degree can we attribute the end results (the records, the awards, the championships) to cheating?
C) The entire sport and those who cover it and watch it willfully incorporated cheating into the game, milked it, embraced it, made love to it, and cuddled with it. Everyone, and I mean everyone, connected to the sport is complicit in the offenses because we all let it go for a LONG time without a peep.
D) (and this is the one that makes me squirm) If I'm being honest, I wish Sammy's cheating had been more productive. If the Cubs had ridden his acne-ridden back all the way to the World Series crown, I wouldn't trade that moment for the world. As it was, Sammy put on one hell of a show (and he played HARD, averaging about 159 games per year for 5 or 6 years straight).
For me, the statute of limitations on cheating runs out the minute each game is completed. You cheat and get away with it, congrats. An umpire blows a call, it's done. A pitcher throws a pitch before appealing that a baserunner left third early? Too late. I roll the dice before you notice I'm on Boardwalk? Sorry. Maybe that's not playing fair, but I stopped caring about fair 25 years ago when Steve Garvey took Lee Smith out of the ballpark in Game 4.
Post new comment