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Steroid Scandal: A Diehard Fan Mourns Sports' Loss of Innocence
Some of the best times between an Asian American and her immigrant
father were watching the Chicago Bears and the amazing feats of Walter
Payton. But if athletes today try to take the fast-track to greatness
through performance-enhancing drugs, what happens to the wonder and
dignity of sports?
By Pueng Vongs, Pacific News Service
December 7, 2004 - As news of the baseball steroid scandal began to
unfold, an unfamiliar pall descended on my sports-frenetic weekend. One
insider commented that steroids taint every major sport. I began to eye
every fast break, every explosion through a wall of clinging linemen
with increasing suspicion and anger. Was this a drug-propelled slam dunk
or touchdown?
I analyzed each player's demeanor and physique judiciously, searching
for signs of the phantom. Had this player gotten beefier during the
off-season? Was this celebration in the end zone done out of passion and
love for the sport, or was the guy on something?
Disgusted, I switched off my set, ripped off my favorite jersey and
wondered if any jump into the stands or disco celebration in the end
zone would ever be the same.
I've been a sports fan all my life. As a child, rare, shared moments
between me and my Thai immigrant father occurred in front of the
television on Sunday afternoons. We watched football in our apartment on
the south side of Chicago. My father often worked exhausting,
back-to-back shifts as a hotel clerk to feed his family, but he always
found the energy and time to watch the game.
For many new immigrants, sports are a welcome distraction from the hard
realities of their lives and help connect them to their adopted culture.
The passion for competition and team pride is universal, and dispels the
distance between newcomers and their new home. Some of the first words I
learned in English were "touchdown" and "home run."
My father and I would quietly sit and watch the games during the frigid
Chicago winters, the silence broken only by cheers for number 34, who
would extend time and space when he slid through crowds of defenders and
juked and shimmied out of the embrace of guys twice his size into
daylight. His name was Walter Payton, one of the greatest football
players of all time. We fans called him "Sweetness."
Today's games are not the same ones I watched as a child. They're
faster, the players bigger and stronger. Football players have grown
more than 100 pounds in the past 25 years; some hover around 400 pounds.
Seven-foot centers are becoming the norm in basketball. And the stakes
of sports are higher. In the past 10 years, salaries of top players in
baseball have gone from $3 million per year to more than $20 million,
not including the millions made in endorsements.
And fans make athletes earn their pay. Some are a foul-mouthed group
mired in the hype, just as likely to cause riots when their team wins as
when it loses. They expect athletes to be superhuman. For those who
disappoint expectations, taunts or a spray of objects from the
concession stands may await.
Why not give the fans what they want? After all, we already accept a
wide variety of drugs to enhance our emotional, mental and physical
states. We use Prozac to temper our depression, Viagra to boost sexual
feats and Ritalin to calm our kids. Why should sports stars be exempt
from using drugs to better equip them for battle? In fact many already
use legal "performance enhancers" that fall beneath the radar of league
restrictions and mimic the effect of steroids.
This past Sunday I got up early on a brisk San Francisco morning to
travel to the downtown satellite sports bar to watch my still-beloved
Chicago Bears. The bar was just a few blocks away from SBC Park, the
baseball home of Barry Bonds, who has said he unwittingly used steroids
in the 2003 season. The only Asian female surrounded by a mob of mostly
men and frat boys, I saw no signs of concern or wavering enthusiasm.
Patrons screamed every time their team made a big play, or slammed their
hands down at the table and cursed at the screen when it did not.
Looking around, it was hard to tell if there might be greater steroid
use on the field or in the bar.
At one point I turned to my sports buddy, a runner and swimmer and a
member of San Francisco's elite Dolphin Club. For fun, members like to
swim in the frigid and choppy San Francisco Bay to Alcatraz and back. My
friend has spent more than a year training in hopes of being among the
select few who have crossed the English Channel. Each day she gets up at
4 a.m. to swim for two hours, sometimes in the dark and cold waters of
the bay. She also runs several miles a week and is on a strict
conditioning schedule that greatly restricts her life. She talks about
other swimmers who prepare themselves for similar swims in cold water by
spending long stretches of time in baths full of ice. I ask her if she
would consider taking performance enhancing drugs. She says while it
would help her tremendously, what would be the point? By using drugs to
aid her in her goal, she would not be honoring the sport, her body and
all her effort.
If it is indeed true that some 50 percent of professional baseball
players take some kind of steroid already, we have already moved toward
a day when sports may become little more than a video game, with
athlete's feats of prowess reduced to everyday occurrences, numbing the
enjoyment of it. Will children so eager to succeed in sports begin to
chemically alter their bodies in the hope of realizing their dreams? And
how will we recover the innocence, the awe and wonder of each
accomplishment, and the loyalty among fans that took generations to
build?
PNS contributor Pueng Vongs is an editor for New
California Media, an association of over 600 print, broadcast and online
ethnic media organizations founded in 1996 by Pacific News Service and
members of ethnic media.
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