The elephant in the room, the unanswered question in the otherwise gripping "Game of Shadows," was whether baseball players were under any moral obligation not to take steroids during a time when they were legal. Performance-enhancing drugs were not banned in Major League Baseball when Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds began their assault on the record books in the late '90s, but the drugs still carried enough stigma that all of the athletes vehemently denied using them. Writers and fans alike have take to posthumously taking the shine off of the records that they broke, but why should these players have to pay for a sin that wasn't outlined as such at the time? Yes, it placed them on an uneven playing field with their peers and set a bad example for the youth, but if it isn't detailed in the rulebook, it is hard to justify vilifying the offenders.
The stark contrast between the actions of the baseball players and the track stars mentioned in the book were clear. The authors, however, did not see it this way. The track and field stars, from Marion Jones to Tim Montgomery, were all blatantly flouting the rules set in place, while cheating all of their fellow competitors who obeyed them. After Montgomery made a startling transformation from also-ran to favorite, the realization that followed the news that he passed a mandatory drug test puts into context his wrongdoing. "It strengthened his conviction that in the cat-and-mouse game of the testers versus the cheaters, there was no more elusive mouse than (Victor) Conte ("Game of Shadows," pg. 97)." Not until it became clear that fans were horrified by performance-enhancing drugs did baseball players use a similar type of cover-up, and even then they were not breaking the rules. The track stars were on a different level of cheating than the baseball players, yet the authors painted them all with one, broad brush.
There is a central question that the book glosses over but that is increasingly relevant when trying to form an opinion on this topic: if these athletes are willing to accept the risk of using steroids to better their performance, why are they not allowed to do so? In an era when cheaters are perpetually a step ahead of the testers, it is a simple solution. By allowing everyone the freedom to do what they wish with their bodies, home runs will resume the otherworldly distance of a decade ago and world records will fall like dominoes during every Olympic Games.
It would not be fair to the athletes, however. By removing the restrictions in place, authorities would make performance-enhancing drugs a prerequisite to competing with the best. Allowing rogue scientists like Conte to use athletes as lab rats is a recipe for disaster. "'You know what, you going to kill a lot of people,' Montgomery said he told Conte. 'I don't give a fuck,' Conte allegedly replied ("Game of Shadows," pg. 96)." A real-world scenario that would put this shift in context is the modeling world. Young girls put their bodies through irreparable harm--through starving themselves, bulimia, etc.--in hopes of getting their big break. Sure, the best ones can reach the limelight without taking these drastic measures, but the perception that starvation is a necessary step toward the big time is a real danger. High school athletes would suffer a similar fate if these drugs were made legal in professional sports. The ill-effects of steroid use among the youth would skyrocket as it gained momentum as the only path for a scholarship, the only choice if they want to reach their dreams.
Professional athletes would suffer as well. Football has increasingly took on the feel of a gladiatorial sport. Nearly every weekend, after a monster hit leaves a player motionless on the field, announcers remark with resignation in their voices about how it is shocking that the NFL has not yet had a player die on the field. Modern training, medicine and, yes, discreet performance-enhancing drug use have made football players into human missiles, bulks of muscle made for hurling at opponents. The game is already teetering on the brink of becoming too dangerous for even the less-squeamish of fans, and allowing players to do whatever it took to bulk up would push it over the edge.
Viewing the steroid scandal with the benefit of retrospect provides up-and-coming sports journalists with a lasting lesson: never become complacent, never stop questioning. As years have gone by, sports writers have almost unanimously excused their ignorance of the drug use of the era by saying that "we were all naive, no one knew about it." This explanation is too easy, allowing the writers to forgive themselves with a ready-made excuse. In reality, they fell into a seductive trap: they didn't want to know. It makes the job easier for a sports journalist if their team is doing well. It sells papers and following a pennant run is more fun that covering a last-place team. One needs to constantly remember, however, that it is in their job description to stay vigilant for wrongdoing. At their best, journalists work as watchdogs for the public. It is a cliche, yes, but details what all writers--sports writers included--should strive for in their work. From illicit payments to players and the tackling of the amateur question in collegiate athletics to corruption in FIFA, the opportunity to remove the wool from the eyes of the public is there for willing journalists. Game of Shadows showed how powerful this tool can be.
The elephant in the room, the unanswered question in the otherwise gripping "Game of Shadows," was whether baseball players were under any moral obligation not to take steroids during a time when they were legal. Performance-enhancing drugs were not banned in Major League Baseball when Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds began their assault on the record books in the late '90s, but the drugs still carried enough stigma that all of the athletes vehemently denied using them. Writers and fans alike have take to posthumously taking the shine off of the records that they broke, but why should these players have to pay for a sin that wasn't outlined as such at the time? Yes, it placed them on an uneven playing field with their peers and set a bad example for the youth, but if it isn't detailed in the rulebook, it is hard to justify vilifying the offenders.
The stark contrast between the actions of the baseball players and the track stars mentioned in the book were clear. The authors, however, did not see it this way. The track and field stars, from Marion Jones to Tim Montgomery, were all blatantly flouting the rules set in place, while cheating all of their fellow competitors who obeyed them. After Montgomery made a startling transformation from also-ran to favorite, the realization that followed the news that he passed a mandatory drug test puts into context his wrongdoing. "It strengthened his conviction that in the cat-and-mouse game of the testers versus the cheaters, there was no more elusive mouse than (Victor) Conte ("Game of Shadows," pg. 97)." Not until it became clear that fans were horrified by performance-enhancing drugs did baseball players use a similar type of cover-up, and even then they were not breaking the rules. The track stars were on a different level of cheating than the baseball players, yet the authors painted them all with one, broad brush.
There is a central question that the book glosses over but that is increasingly relevant when trying to form an opinion on this topic: if these athletes are willing to accept the risk of using steroids to better their performance, why are they not allowed to do so? In an era when cheaters are perpetually a step ahead of the testers, it is a simple solution. By allowing everyone the freedom to do what they wish with their bodies, home runs will resume the otherworldly distance of a decade ago and world records will fall like dominoes during every Olympic Games.
It would not be fair to the athletes, however. By removing the restrictions in place, authorities would make performance-enhancing drugs a prerequisite to competing with the best. Allowing rogue scientists like Conte to use athletes as lab rats is a recipe for disaster. "'You know what, you going to kill a lot of people,' Montgomery said he told Conte. 'I don't give a fuck,' Conte allegedly replied ("Game of Shadows," pg. 96)." A real-world scenario that would put this shift in context is the modeling world. Young girls put their bodies through irreparable harm--through starving themselves, bulimia, etc.--in hopes of getting their big break. Sure, the best ones can reach the limelight without taking these drastic measures, but the perception that starvation is a necessary step toward the big time is a real danger. High school athletes would suffer a similar fate if these drugs were made legal in professional sports. The ill-effects of steroid use among the youth would skyrocket as it gained momentum as the only path for a scholarship, the only choice if they want to reach their dreams.
Professional athletes would suffer as well. Football has increasingly took on the feel of a gladiatorial sport. Nearly every weekend, after a monster hit leaves a player motionless on the field, announcers remark with resignation in their voices about how it is shocking that the NFL has not yet had a player die on the field. Modern training, medicine and, yes, discreet performance-enhancing drug use have made football players into human missiles, bulks of muscle made for hurling at opponents. The game is already teetering on the brink of becoming too dangerous for even the less-squeamish of fans, and allowing players to do whatever it took to bulk up would push it over the edge.
Viewing the steroid scandal with the benefit of retrospect provides up-and-coming sports journalists with a lasting lesson: never become complacent, never stop questioning. As years have gone by, sports writers have almost unanimously excused their ignorance of the drug use of the era by saying that "we were all naive, no one knew about it." This explanation is too easy, allowing the writers to forgive themselves with a ready-made excuse. In reality, they fell into a seductive trap: they didn't want to know. It makes the job easier for a sports journalist if their team is doing well. It sells papers and following a pennant run is more fun that covering a last-place team. One needs to constantly remember, however, that it is in their job description to stay vigilant for wrongdoing. At their best, journalists work as watchdogs for the public. It is a cliche, yes, but details what all writers--sports writers included--should strive for in their work. From illicit payments to players and the tackling of the amateur question in collegiate athletics to corruption in FIFA, the opportunity to remove the wool from the eyes of the public is there for willing journalists. Game of Shadows showed how powerful this tool can be.
The elephant in the room, the unanswered question in the otherwise gripping "Game of Shadows," was whether baseball players were under any moral obligation not to take steroids during a time when they were legal. Performance-enhancing drugs were not banned in Major League Baseball when Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds began their assault on the record books in the late '90s, but the drugs still carried enough stigma that all of the athletes vehemently denied using them. Writers and fans alike have take to posthumously taking the shine off of the records that they broke, but why should these players have to pay for a sin that wasn't outlined as such at the time? Yes, it placed them on an uneven playing field with their peers and set a bad example for the youth, but if it isn't detailed in the rulebook, it is hard to justify vilifying the offenders.
The stark contrast between the actions of the baseball players and the track stars mentioned in the book were clear. The authors, however, did not see it this way. The track and field stars, from Marion Jones to Tim Montgomery, were all blatantly flouting the rules set in place, while cheating all of their fellow competitors who obeyed them. After Montgomery made a startling transformation from also-ran to favorite, the realization that followed the news that he passed a mandatory drug test puts into context his wrongdoing. "It strengthened his conviction that in the cat-and-mouse game of the testers versus the cheaters, there was no more elusive mouse than (Victor) Conte ("Game of Shadows," pg. 97)." Not until it became clear that fans were horrified by performance-enhancing drugs did baseball players use a similar type of cover-up, and even then they were not breaking the rules. The track stars were on a different level of cheating than the baseball players, yet the authors painted them all with one, broad brush.
There is a central question that the book glosses over but that is increasingly relevant when trying to form an opinion on this topic: if these athletes are willing to accept the risk of using steroids to better their performance, why are they not allowed to do so? In an era when cheaters are perpetually a step ahead of the testers, it is a simple solution. By allowing everyone the freedom to do what they wish with their bodies, home runs will resume the otherworldly distance of a decade ago and world records will fall like dominoes during every Olympic Games.
It would not be fair to the athletes, however. By removing the restrictions in place, authorities would make performance-enhancing drugs a prerequisite to competing with the best. Allowing rogue scientists like Conte to use athletes as lab rats is a recipe for disaster. "'You know what, you going to kill a lot of people,' Montgomery said he told Conte. 'I don't give a fuck,' Conte allegedly replied ("Game of Shadows," pg. 96)." A real-world scenario that would put this shift in context is the modeling world. Young girls put their bodies through irreparable harm--through starving themselves, bulimia, etc.--in hopes of getting their big break. Sure, the best ones can reach the limelight without taking these drastic measures, but the perception that starvation is a necessary step toward the big time is a real danger. High school athletes would suffer a similar fate if these drugs were made legal in professional sports. The ill-effects of steroid use among the youth would skyrocket as it gained momentum as the only path for a scholarship, the only choice if they want to reach their dreams.
Professional athletes would suffer as well. Football has increasingly took on the feel of a gladiatorial sport. Nearly every weekend, after a monster hit leaves a player motionless on the field, announcers remark with resignation in their voices about how it is shocking that the NFL has not yet had a player die on the field. Modern training, medicine and, yes, discreet performance-enhancing drug use have made football players into human missiles, bulks of muscle made for hurling at opponents. The game is already teetering on the brink of becoming too dangerous for even the less-squeamish of fans, and allowing players to do whatever it took to bulk up would push it over the edge.
Viewing the steroid scandal with the benefit of retrospect provides up-and-coming sports journalists with a lasting lesson: never become complacent, never stop questioning. As years have gone by, sports writers have almost unanimously excused their ignorance of the drug use of the era by saying that "we were all naive, no one knew about it." This explanation is too easy, allowing the writers to forgive themselves with a ready-made excuse. In reality, they fell into a seductive trap: they didn't want to know. It makes the job easier for a sports journalist if their team is doing well. It sells papers and following a pennant run is more fun that covering a last-place team. One needs to constantly remember, however, that it is in their job description to stay vigilant for wrongdoing. At their best, journalists work as watchdogs for the public. It is a cliche, yes, but details what all writers--sports writers included--should strive for in their work. From illicit payments to players and the tackling of the amateur question in collegiate athletics to corruption in FIFA, the opportunity to remove the wool from the eyes of the public is there for willing journalists. Game of Shadows showed how powerful this tool can be.
The elephant in the room, the unanswered question in the otherwise gripping "Game of Shadows," was whether baseball players were under any moral obligation not to take steroids during a time when they were legal. Performance-enhancing drugs were not banned in Major League Baseball when Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds began their assault on the record books in the late '90s, but the drugs still carried enough stigma that all of the athletes vehemently denied using them. Writers and fans alike have take to posthumously taking the shine off of the records that they broke, but why should these players have to pay for a sin that wasn't outlined as such at the time? Yes, it placed them on an uneven playing field with their peers and set a bad example for the youth, but if it isn't detailed in the rulebook, it is hard to justify vilifying the offenders.
The stark contrast between the actions of the baseball players and the track stars mentioned in the book were clear. The authors, however, did not see it this way. The track and field stars, from Marion Jones to Tim Montgomery, were all blatantly flouting the rules set in place, while cheating all of their fellow competitors who obeyed them. After Montgomery made a startling transformation from also-ran to favorite, the realization that followed the news that he passed a mandatory drug test puts into context his wrongdoing. "It strengthened his conviction that in the cat-and-mouse game of the testers versus the cheaters, there was no more elusive mouse than (Victor) Conte ("Game of Shadows," pg. 97)." Not until it became clear that fans were horrified by performance-enhancing drugs did baseball players use a similar type of cover-up, and even then they were not breaking the rules. The track stars were on a different level of cheating than the baseball players, yet the authors painted them all with one, broad brush.
There is a central question that the book glosses over but that is increasingly relevant when trying to form an opinion on this topic: if these athletes are willing to accept the risk of using steroids to better their performance, why are they not allowed to do so? In an era when cheaters are perpetually a step ahead of the testers, it is a simple solution. By allowing everyone the freedom to do what they wish with their bodies, home runs will resume the otherworldly distance of a decade ago and world records will fall like dominoes during every Olympic Games.
It would not be fair to the athletes, however. By removing the restrictions in place, authorities would make performance-enhancing drugs a prerequisite to competing with the best. Allowing rogue scientists like Conte to use athletes as lab rats is a recipe for disaster. "'You know what, you going to kill a lot of people,' Montgomery said he told Conte. 'I don't give a fuck,' Conte allegedly replied ("Game of Shadows," pg. 96)." A real-world scenario that would put this shift in context is the modeling world. Young girls put their bodies through irreparable harm--through starving themselves, bulimia, etc.--in hopes of getting their big break. Sure, the best ones can reach the limelight without taking these drastic measures, but the perception that starvation is a necessary step toward the big time is a real danger. High school athletes would suffer a similar fate if these drugs were made legal in professional sports. The ill-effects of steroid use among the youth would skyrocket as it gained momentum as the only path for a scholarship, the only choice if they want to reach their dreams.
Professional athletes would suffer as well. Football has increasingly took on the feel of a gladiatorial sport. Nearly every weekend, after a monster hit leaves a player motionless on the field, announcers remark with resignation in their voices about how it is shocking that the NFL has not yet had a player die on the field. Modern training, medicine and, yes, discreet performance-enhancing drug use have made football players into human missiles, bulks of muscle made for hurling at opponents. The game is already teetering on the brink of becoming too dangerous for even the less-squeamish of fans, and allowing players to do whatever it took to bulk up would push it over the edge.
Viewing the steroid scandal with the benefit of retrospect provides up-and-coming sports journalists with a lasting lesson: never become complacent, never stop questioning. As years have gone by, sports writers have almost unanimously excused their ignorance of the drug use of the era by saying that "we were all naive, no one knew about it." This explanation is too easy, allowing the writers to forgive themselves with a ready-made excuse. In reality, they fell into a seductive trap: they didn't want to know. It makes the job easier for a sports journalist if their team is doing well. It sells papers and following a pennant run is more fun that covering a last-place team. One needs to constantly remember, however, that it is in their job description to stay vigilant for wrongdoing. At their best, journalists work as watchdogs for the public. It is a cliche, yes, but details what all writers--sports writers included--should strive for in their work. From illicit payments to players and the tackling of the amateur question in collegiate athletics to corruption in FIFA, the opportunity to remove the wool from the eyes of the public is there for willing journalists. Game of Shadows showed how powerful this tool can be.
The elephant in the room, the unanswered question in the otherwise gripping "Game of Shadows," was whether baseball players were under any moral obligation not to take steroids during a time when they were legal. Performance-enhancing drugs were not banned in Major League Baseball when Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds began their assault on the record books in the late '90s, but the drugs still carried enough stigma that all of the athletes vehemently denied using them. Writers and fans alike have take to posthumously taking the shine off of the records that they broke, but why should these players have to pay for a sin that wasn't outlined as such at the time? Yes, it placed them on an uneven playing field with their peers and set a bad example for the youth, but if it isn't detailed in the rulebook, it is hard to justify vilifying the offenders.
The stark contrast between the actions of the baseball players and the track stars mentioned in the book were clear. The authors, however, did not see it this way. The track and field stars, from Marion Jones to Tim Montgomery, were all blatantly flouting the rules set in place, while cheating all of their fellow competitors who obeyed them. After Montgomery made a startling transformation from also-ran to favorite, the realization that followed the news that he passed a mandatory drug test puts into context his wrongdoing. "It strengthened his conviction that in the cat-and-mouse game of the testers versus the cheaters, there was no more elusive mouse than (Victor) Conte ("Game of Shadows," pg. 97)." Not until it became clear that fans were horrified by performance-enhancing drugs did baseball players use a similar type of cover-up, and even then they were not breaking the rules. The track stars were on a different level of cheating than the baseball players, yet the authors painted them all with one, broad brush.
There is a central question that the book glosses over but that is increasingly relevant when trying to form an opinion on this topic: if these athletes are willing to accept the risk of using steroids to better their performance, why are they not allowed to do so? In an era when cheaters are perpetually a step ahead of the testers, it is a simple solution. By allowing everyone the freedom to do what they wish with their bodies, home runs will resume the otherworldly distance of a decade ago and world records will fall like dominoes during every Olympic Games.
It would not be fair to the athletes, however. By removing the restrictions in place, authorities would make performance-enhancing drugs a prerequisite to competing with the best. Allowing rogue scientists like Conte to use athletes as lab rats is a recipe for disaster. "'You know what, you going to kill a lot of people,' Montgomery said he told Conte. 'I don't give a fuck,' Conte allegedly replied ("Game of Shadows," pg. 96)." A real-world scenario that would put this shift in context is the modeling world. Young girls put their bodies through irreparable harm--through starving themselves, bulimia, etc.--in hopes of getting their big break. Sure, the best ones can reach the limelight without taking these drastic measures, but the perception that starvation is a necessary step toward the big time is a real danger. High school athletes would suffer a similar fate if these drugs were made legal in professional sports. The ill-effects of steroid use among the youth would skyrocket as it gained momentum as the only path for a scholarship, the only choice if they want to reach their dreams.
Professional athletes would suffer as well. Football has increasingly took on the feel of a gladiatorial sport. Nearly every weekend, after a monster hit leaves a player motionless on the field, announcers remark with resignation in their voices about how it is shocking that the NFL has not yet had a player die on the field. Modern training, medicine and, yes, discreet performance-enhancing drug use have made football players into human missiles, bulks of muscle made for hurling at opponents. The game is already teetering on the brink of becoming too dangerous for even the less-squeamish of fans, and allowing players to do whatever it took to bulk up would push it over the edge.
Viewing the steroid scandal with the benefit of retrospect provides up-and-coming sports journalists with a lasting lesson: never become complacent, never stop questioning. As years have gone by, sports writers have almost unanimously excused their ignorance of the drug use of the era by saying that "we were all naive, no one knew about it." This explanation is too easy, allowing the writers to forgive themselves with a ready-made excuse. In reality, they fell into a seductive trap: they didn't want to know. It makes the job easier for a sports journalist if their team is doing well. It sells papers and following a pennant run is more fun that covering a last-place team. One needs to constantly remember, however, that it is in their job description to stay vigilant for wrongdoing. At their best, journalists work as watchdogs for the public. It is a cliche, yes, but details what all writers--sports writers included--should strive for in their work. From illicit payments to players and the tackling of the amateur question in collegiate athletics to corruption in FIFA, the opportunity to remove the wool from the eyes of the public is there for willing journalists. Game of Shadows showed how powerful this tool can be.
The elephant in the room, the unanswered question in the otherwise gripping "Game of Shadows," was whether baseball players were under any moral obligation not to take steroids during a time when they were legal. Performance-enhancing drugs were not banned in Major League Baseball when Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds began their assault on the record books in the late '90s, but the drugs still carried enough stigma that all of the athletes vehemently denied using them. Writers and fans alike have take to posthumously taking the shine off of the records that they broke, but why should these players have to pay for a sin that wasn't outlined as such at the time? Yes, it placed them on an uneven playing field with their peers and set a bad example for the youth, but if it isn't detailed in the rulebook, it is hard to justify vilifying the offenders.
The stark contrast between the actions of the baseball players and the track stars mentioned in the book were clear. The authors, however, did not see it this way. The track and field stars, from Marion Jones to Tim Montgomery, were all blatantly flouting the rules set in place, while cheating all of their fellow competitors who obeyed them. After Montgomery made a startling transformation from also-ran to favorite, the realization that followed the news that he passed a mandatory drug test puts into context his wrongdoing. "It strengthened his conviction that in the cat-and-mouse game of the testers versus the cheaters, there was no more elusive mouse than (Victor) Conte ("Game of Shadows," pg. 97)." Not until it became clear that fans were horrified by performance-enhancing drugs did baseball players use a similar type of cover-up, and even then they were not breaking the rules. The track stars were on a different level of cheating than the baseball players, yet the authors painted them all with one, broad brush.
There is a central question that the book glosses over but that is increasingly relevant when trying to form an opinion on this topic: if these athletes are willing to accept the risk of using steroids to better their performance, why are they not allowed to do so? In an era when cheaters are perpetually a step ahead of the testers, it is a simple solution. By allowing everyone the freedom to do what they wish with their bodies, home runs will resume the otherworldly distance of a decade ago and world records will fall like dominoes during every Olympic Games.
It would not be fair to the athletes, however. By removing the restrictions in place, authorities would make performance-enhancing drugs a prerequisite to competing with the best. Allowing rogue scientists like Conte to use athletes as lab rats is a recipe for disaster. "'You know what, you going to kill a lot of people,' Montgomery said he told Conte. 'I don't give a fuck,' Conte allegedly replied ("Game of Shadows," pg. 96)." A real-world scenario that would put this shift in context is the modeling world. Young girls put their bodies through irreparable harm--through starving themselves, bulimia, etc.--in hopes of getting their big break. Sure, the best ones can reach the limelight without taking these drastic measures, but the perception that starvation is a necessary step toward the big time is a real danger. High school athletes would suffer a similar fate if these drugs were made legal in professional sports. The ill-effects of steroid use among the youth would skyrocket as it gained momentum as the only path for a scholarship, the only choice if they want to reach their dreams.
Professional athletes would suffer as well. Football has increasingly took on the feel of a gladiatorial sport. Nearly every weekend, after a monster hit leaves a player motionless on the field, announcers remark with resignation in their voices about how it is shocking that the NFL has not yet had a player die on the field. Modern training, medicine and, yes, discreet performance-enhancing drug use have made football players into human missiles, bulks of muscle made for hurling at opponents. The game is already teetering on the brink of becoming too dangerous for even the less-squeamish of fans, and allowing players to do whatever it took to bulk up would push it over the edge.
Viewing the steroid scandal with the benefit of retrospect provides up-and-coming sports journalists with a lasting lesson: never become complacent, never stop questioning. As years have gone by, sports writers have almost unanimously excused their ignorance of the drug use of the era by saying that "we were all naive, no one knew about it." This explanation is too easy, allowing the writers to forgive themselves with a ready-made excuse. In reality, they fell into a seductive trap: they didn't want to know. It makes the job easier for a sports journalist if their team is doing well. It sells papers and following a pennant run is more fun that covering a last-place team. One needs to constantly remember, however, that it is in their job description to stay vigilant for wrongdoing. At their best, journalists work as watchdogs for the public. It is a cliche, yes, but details what all writers--sports writers included--should strive for in their work. From illicit payments to players and the tackling of the amateur question in collegiate athletics to corruption in FIFA, the opportunity to remove the wool from the eyes of the public is there for willing journalists. Game of Shadows showed how powerful this tool can be.
The elephant in the room, the unanswered question in the otherwise gripping "Game of Shadows," was whether baseball players were under any moral obligation not to take steroids during a time when they were legal. Performance-enhancing drugs were not banned in Major League Baseball when Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds began their assault on the record books in the late '90s, but the drugs still carried enough stigma that all of the athletes vehemently denied using them. Writers and fans alike have take to posthumously taking the shine off of the records that they broke, but why should these players have to pay for a sin that wasn't outlined as such at the time? Yes, it placed them on an uneven playing field with their peers and set a bad example for the youth, but if it isn't detailed in the rulebook, it is hard to justify vilifying the offenders.
The stark contrast between the actions of the baseball players and the track stars mentioned in the book were clear. The authors, however, did not see it this way. The track and field stars, from Marion Jones to Tim Montgomery, were all blatantly flouting the rules set in place, while cheating all of their fellow competitors who obeyed them. After Montgomery made a startling transformation from also-ran to favorite, the realization that followed the news that he passed a mandatory drug test puts into context his wrongdoing. "It strengthened his conviction that in the cat-and-mouse game of the testers versus the cheaters, there was no more elusive mouse than (Victor) Conte ("Game of Shadows," pg. 97)." Not until it became clear that fans were horrified by performance-enhancing drugs did baseball players use a similar type of cover-up, and even then they were not breaking the rules. The track stars were on a different level of cheating than the baseball players, yet the authors painted them all with one, broad brush.
There is a central question that the book glosses over but that is increasingly relevant when trying to form an opinion on this topic: if these athletes are willing to accept the risk of using steroids to better their performance, why are they not allowed to do so? In an era when cheaters are perpetually a step ahead of the testers, it is a simple solution. By allowing everyone the freedom to do what they wish with their bodies, home runs will resume the otherworldly distance of a decade ago and world records will fall like dominoes during every Olympic Games.
It would not be fair to the athletes, however. By removing the restrictions in place, authorities would make performance-enhancing drugs a prerequisite to competing with the best. Allowing rogue scientists like Conte to use athletes as lab rats is a recipe for disaster. "'You know what, you going to kill a lot of people,' Montgomery said he told Conte. 'I don't give a fuck,' Conte allegedly replied ("Game of Shadows," pg. 96)." A real-world scenario that would put this shift in context is the modeling world. Young girls put their bodies through irreparable harm--through starving themselves, bulimia, etc.--in hopes of getting their big break. Sure, the best ones can reach the limelight without taking these drastic measures, but the perception that starvation is a necessary step toward the big time is a real danger. High school athletes would suffer a similar fate if these drugs were made legal in professional sports. The ill-effects of steroid use among the youth would skyrocket as it gained momentum as the only path for a scholarship, the only choice if they want to reach their dreams.
Professional athletes would suffer as well. Football has increasingly took on the feel of a gladiatorial sport. Nearly every weekend, after a monster hit leaves a player motionless on the field, announcers remark with resignation in their voices about how it is shocking that the NFL has not yet had a player die on the field. Modern training, medicine and, yes, discreet performance-enhancing drug use have made football players into human missiles, bulks of muscle made for hurling at opponents. The game is already teetering on the brink of becoming too dangerous for even the less-squeamish of fans, and allowing players to do whatever it took to bulk up would push it over the edge.
Viewing the steroid scandal with the benefit of retrospect provides up-and-coming sports journalists with a lasting lesson: never become complacent, never stop questioning. As years have gone by, sports writers have almost unanimously excused their ignorance of the drug use of the era by saying that "we were all naive, no one knew about it." This explanation is too easy, allowing the writers to forgive themselves with a ready-made excuse. In reality, they fell into a seductive trap: they didn't want to know. It makes the job easier for a sports journalist if their team is doing well. It sells papers and following a pennant run is more fun that covering a last-place team. One needs to constantly remember, however, that it is in their job description to stay vigilant for wrongdoing. At their best, journalists work as watchdogs for the public. It is a cliche, yes, but details what all writers--sports writers included--should strive for in their work. From illicit payments to players and the tackling of the amateur question in collegiate athletics to corruption in FIFA, the opportunity to remove the wool from the eyes of the public is there for willing journalists. Game of Shadows showed how powerful this tool can be.
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