SOME FOLKS LOSE THEIR SENSES OVER MCGWIRE

ON OCTOBER 10, 1990, in the second inning, a puffed up and self-important
home plate umpire by the name of Terry Cooney tossed Roger Clemens out of
Game 4 of the American League playoffs.

The Boston Red Sox lost that game 3-1; got swept by the Oakland A's.

It was vainglory on the part of Cooney, who objected to Clemens' foul
language. The ump made himself a part of history, all right, by removing
the one individual who might have changed the course of that series. He
also infuriated thousands of fans who were denied a pitching spectacle for
which they'd paid dearly.

In no other sport do officials fancy themselves so much a part of The Show.
They're self-delusional, of course. But that hasn't stopped umpires from
muscling the spotlight on too many occasions.

Now the baseball-viewing public is on a first-name basis with rookie umpire
Sam Holbrook. Well, bully for him, with the emphasis on bully.

It was Holbrook who ejected Mark McGwire after his first at-bat Saturday
against Atlanta, following a spirited argument over a questionable
third-strike call. Guess Holbrook showed the big drug-lug who's boss, no?
Too bad baseball doesn't permit officials to hand out two-minute penalties
(or perhaps punish an offender by denying them one official at-bat) for
minor infractions like, oh, using bad words with the ump.

But I suspect the same faction of misanthropes who've demonized McGwire of
late for his use of androstenedione will now scold the slugger for jawing
at an official and letting down all those fans who'd come to see the big
galumph close in on the Roger Maris record. Some people just can't stand
heroes. They take pleasure bringing them to heel.

That's what I find most vexing about the andro scandal-in-a-jock-cup.
Disclaimers notwithstanding, there are too many pundits who are enjoying
their own sudden and unanticipated relevance as moral arbiters in a
sporting endeavour (overtaking the 61-home run mark) that had, hitherto,
been completely outside their sphere of influence.

Now it's become fashionable to not only argue that McGwire's season should
have a symbolic asterisk attached to it, but there are even those who have
taken it upon themselves to reinvent this guy's personality - as if use of
andro equals poor character.

Allan Maki, a Globe and Mail columnist out of Calgary, described McGwire
the other day as ``surly'' for his attitude on the andro matter. I'm
wondering when was the last time Maki talked to McGwire in order to draw
such conclusions. When I interviewed McGwire earlier this summer, he was
remarkably accommodating and good-natured. Beyond a straight-forward
acknowledgment that he's been using the product for the last year and a
half, what more is he supposed to do? Offer a tortured mea culpa simply to
appease the more sanctimonious elements in the press and the brain-dead
practitioners of sports radio?

Not even the biochemists have been able to provide an orthodox description
of how andro works, or a definitive analysis of its effectiveness. It's not
an anabolic steroid and can in no way be compared to it. Andro's an
over-the-counter product in the U.S. It's legal in Major League Baseball,
in the NHL and the NBA. If other sports bodies feel differently (i.e. the
NFL), that's their prerogative.

In 1987, his rookie year, McGwire stood 6-foot-5 and weighed 225 pounds. He
hit 49 home runs. Thus far this year, still at 6-foot-5 but 25 pounds
heavier (the bulking up has occurred over the course of many seasons),
McGwire is sitting at 55 home runs.

Do you see a Michelle Smith-type difference here? I don't.

Checked-by: Mike Gogulski