Tainted Love

I have been a Los Angeles Dodgers fan for over 20 years. Those years were filled with mostly happy memories. There have however been a few heart wrenching days. Today definitely qualifies as one of them. If for some reason your head has been under a rock and you missed it, Manny Ramirez was suspended today for violation of the MLB Drug Policy. He tested positive for one of the drugs listed on the banned substance list given to every MLB player at the start of Spring Training. What that drug actually was, or why he was taking it are still open to debate. But whether Manny is struggling to hit for the Mendoza line in the bedroom, was trying to trigger his monthly menstrual cycle, or just flat out 'roiding, the end result is the same. 50 game suspension and the burst of the magical bubble that was beginning to encompass Chavez Ravine.

The Dodgers woke up Thursday with a 13 game home winning streak to open the season, the longest such streak in the history of modern baseball. They had a 6 and a half game lead in the NL West and appeared poised to run away and hide from the rest of the division. All that is gone now. Sure the Dodgers are still probably the best team in the division and should in theory have more than enough talent to weather the storm for 50 games. But of far more concern is the impact of this situation on the Dodgers' psyche. This was a shattered and broken clubhouse prior to Manny's arrival last summer. Cranky veterans like Jeff Kent and Luis Gonzalez were quick to point the finger at the Dodgers young core for their lack of work ethic, respect and honor for the traditions of the game. Although to be fair, Kent lost any and all respect his great career might have earned him when he had the audacity to call out Vin Scully. The fact is, the biggest thing that seemed different about the Dodgers with Manny in their midst wasn't just the impact of the long home runs into the LA skyline, but rather the fact that they actually seemed to like playing baseball together. Energized by the arrival of Orlando Hudson, this looked the best Dodgers lineup in decades with the chance to really have a special season. Instead they will spend the next 2 months answering the same questions that we ask ourselves today.

Why, Manny? Why this? Why now?

The talking heads will spend countless hours discussing what he did and didn't take and the impact it has on his legacy. But it doesn't matter. There are no names beyond reproach at this point. Outside of Greg Maddux, I don't think there is a single name from that past 20 years that would surprise me if it was announced tomorrow they had been using performance enhancers. We've seen too many go down. Prior to today the Dodger fan in me would have made a case for Manny. "He's too happy go-lucky, if ever there was a player who just exudes the child-like joy for the game that you want to see, it was this guy". Truth is, the only difference between Barry Bonds, who I loved to hate and Manny, who I grew to love, is the name on the front of their jersey. I'm not quite sure why this one hurt so much. As much as I loved the electricity in Dodger Stadium when Eric Gagne entered the game for the 9th inning during his peak years, it was always there at the back of my mind. "This guy went from failed minor league starting pitcher to the best closer in baseball in 6 months time". The signs were undeniable. I just ignored them and enjoyed the ride and was grateful he was wearing a Brewers uniform when he finally got called on the carpet for his behavior after being outed in the infamous Mitchell Report. Manny was different. He had reeled me in hook, line and sinker. I truly believed he loved the game with child-like abandon and that he loved being a Dodger. I couldn't have been more wrong. The only thanks I got for my misguided trust was my worst day as a Dodgers fan since Mike Piazza was traded for Mr. Cancer himself, Gary Sheffield.

So where do we go from here? Will Dodger fans welcome him back in early July when he is eligible to play again? How will his teammates look at him now when the question will always be at the back of their minds that everything he did and represented was probably a lie? That remains to be seen. Hollywood might be the "fakest" town in the history of the world, so if ever there was a place that might be willing to give him a second chance, he's in the right place. But for that to happen there needs to be a lot more revealed than the, "my Doctor did it", we got in Manny's sterile and bland statement released Thursday morning. So here is my advice for Mr. Ramirez...

Just come clean. Your legacy is already tainted, at least be smart enough to avoid the path taken by Bonds and Clemens and continue to deny in the face of overwhelming evidence. Whether it was for 20 years or 20 days, just tell the truth. It's too late for Scott Boras to spin this one. We're past the point of blaming your Doctor, your trainer, your cousin or your cat. When you make 25 million dollars to hit a ball for a living you bear the ultimate accountability for your actions and what you put into your body. Major League Baseball has even created a hotline that players can call if they are considering a supplement or medication that might contain illegal ingredients so that these types of situations can be avoided. Manny has no one to blame but himself.

So for now I will continue to cheer for Matt Kemp, Orlando Hudson and all of Manny's less famous teammates and nervously await July 3rd, 2009. The first day Manny is eligible to don his Dodger Blue #99. I hope that between now and then he gives me a reason to cheer for him again. I really do. But I won't hold my breath. Not anymore.