Philadelphia Phillies infielder Freddy Galvis is a druggie.
Alright, that’s not fair. He tested positive for a Performance Enhancing Substance. That’s the vague three-word term we give to that stuff that shrinks our balls to the size of raisins. I mean, besides cold swimming pools.
Okay, I confess. Before I went running a few days ago, I used a Performance Enhancing Substance.
It’s called a banana.
No, the PEDs that have every coach, sports commissioner and hall of fame voter nervous have never entered my bloodstream. The stiffest thing I’ve ever taken is a Tylenol-3. And I doubt that would disqualify me from playing on my church softball team - especially since it was taken three years ago.
PEDs won’t go away. The topic is a lot like kindergarten paste - it sticks everywhere, and the longer it stands around, the worse it tastes.
Take Lance Armstrong. The government tried for years to get him. After exhausting literally every avenue of investigation, including having White House reporter Helen Thomas rummage through Armstrong’s underwear drawer*, the government finally threw up its collective hands - after throwing up its collective lunch - and said “no mas.”
Of course, the government isn’t as persistent as the USADA which decided, after watching millions of tax dollars spent to take down a guy who rides bikes for a living, that it just wasn’t enough, dammit!
Roger Clemens is another example. He just got found not guilty of lying to Congress regarding PEDs. The irony is that Congress seems to have no problem lying to us, but that’s beside the point. The point is, Clemens said he never took the stuff. A former trainer came out and said, “What’s that in this old beer can?” And we went through the circus we went through. And, for the record, I firmly agree with Brian McNamee, particularly when he claimed the genetics inside the beer can will prove interesting. If I had a beer can sitting around for 11 years, I’m sure the genetics inside it would be fascinating.
Which brings us back to Galvis. The group that’s suspending him is the same group that was convinced, beyond any reasonable doubt, that a 150-pound NL Most Valuable Player was on steroids. Of course, Ryan Braun got off because the sample was “mishandled” - meaning, it wasn’t stored properly** - and didn’t get so much as an apology from MLB.
But what Galvis said kind of struck me funny. First, he said he absolutely “didn’t do it.” Fair enough. But then he said he doesn’t understand how it got into his system.
Let’s analyze that.
Have you ever been around a Major League Baseball player? Heck, have you ever been around anyone who dreams of someday playing for the Mahoning Valley Scrappers? Those guys are meticulous. Many of them carefully measure every fruit, every vegetable, every sports drink, every potato chip, every supplement - you get the idea. In other words, there’s no way something can get into their system without them knowing, unless it’s either 1) osmosis, 2) injected in the butt by a sneaky Helen Thomas***, or 3) beamed into them by the Starship Enterprise.
Which brings the next thing Galvis said into even more scrutiny: “I apologize to all my family and friends back home in Venezuela.”
For what, exactly? That they live in Venezuela? (just kidding.)
No, really. If he didn’t do anything, then there’s no reason to apologize. Unless he’s sorry that he let his guard down, if only for a few seconds, and allowed someone to inject him.
His apology may actually serve more as a warning than a true apology. It means all of us - including those of us who just distance run - have to watch our backs to keep away from that maniac Helen Thomas.****
*-may not have happened
**-Major League Baseball didn’t have any empty beer cans to store the stuff in
***-again, probably has never happened
****-very likely, actually
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