It's too Early to Judge, By: Ken Rosenthal
February 24, 2006, FoxSports.com
Much as it might disappoint a society that craves instant analysis, it's too early to determine Sammy Sosa's legacy. His 17-year career cannot be wrapped up in a tidy blog, column or sound byte. We need more time.
Time to think. Time to gain information and perspective. Time to sort out exactly what happened in the Steroids Era, and chances are that might not be any easier in 20 years than it is today.
On its surface, Sosa's story should be one for the ages: A skinny kid from the Dominican Republic grows into one of the most prolific sluggers in baseball history. Sosa, the only player to hit 60 or more home runs in three different seasons, ranks fifth on the all-time home runs list behind Hank Aaron, Babe Ruth, Barry Bonds and Willie Mays. His home run race with Mark McGwire in 1998 helped Major League Baseball complete its recovery from the strike of '94-'95. At the height of his career, he was one of the world's most celebrated athletes.
Now it is over. Quickly. Quietly. Sosa likely will join McGwire in retirement, with Rafael Palmeiro probably next and after that Bonds. The nice, tidy assumption is that cheaters are getting flushed out, but Sosa isn't the first player to suddenly lose his skills and McGwire isn't the first to bow out suddenly because of an injury. Such declines occurred time and again before players ever used steroids.
Only in the case of Palmeiro is there actual proof of steroids use, a positive test that changed the perception of him forever. Bonds admitted -- in confidential grand jury testimony leaked to a newspaper -- he used substances alleged to be steroids. McGwire doesn't want to talk about the past. Sosa denies using performance enhancers.
Maybe the Steroids Era will be remembered as an aberration, a freak show fueled by illegal drugs. More likely, it marked the beginning of a new chapter in the game's history. Only a fool believes testing will prevent players from using performance enhancers. The cheaters will find new ways to beat the system. MLB -- like the NFL -- just might become more effective at perpetuating the charade.
At some point, Congress will lose interest, and so, perhaps, will the media. Most fans don't seem all that interested, anyway; they increased their support of MLB to record levels at precisely the moment the sport's credibility came into question. Future Hall of Fame debates about McGwire, Sosa and others will extend the discussion about the impact of performance-enhancing drugs. But it's entirely possible the context of that discussion will change.
In his book, Juiced: Wild Times, Rampant 'Roids, Smash Hits, and How Baseball got Big, Jose Canseco suggests a pharmaceutical utopia in which humans live to 120 or 130. If his extreme vision comes to pass, today's cheaters probably will be remembered as forerunners. At the very least, the accomplishments of the Steroids Era might be more widely accepted, if only because of new perspectives formed over time. It shouldn't be that way, perhaps; the transgressions, at this moment, seem too serious. But history is not written overnight.
For now, fans will retain their own memories of Sosa, from his home run hop and joyous sprints to right field to his feeble appearance before Congress and stunning loss of bat speed last season.
It's too soon to capture his legacy. Too soon to assign his place in history. Too soon to make sense of the Steroids Era and all it involved.
