Baseball never addresses any problem until the sport is cornered by a screaming mob and can't find a way to escape doing the obvious.
For decades, the worst of all options in labor negotiations was a work stoppage. Yet baseball went 8 for 8 before it finally did the obvious in '02: split the revenue sanely, compromise for the good of the game and watch attendance soar.
For 33 years, baseball left Washington without a team. Finally, owners approved relocation of the Expos — after the franchise bled cash for years.
Once again, we've reached the point at which a fed-up sports public has formed a ring around baseball and is bellowing, "Do the right thing, you dopes."
The roar may have been louder when baseball canceled its World Series, but not by much. This time the subject is steroids. Some of us have watched this crisis develop since the '80s. Now, at last, everybody is all ears.
Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.) says he will introduce legislation imposing drug-testing standards on pro athletes if players and owners do not institute their own crackdown by next month. For this he gets universal cheers, as he should. But where were the other brave politicians for 15 years when steroids in baseball were a radioactive topic rather than a vote-getter?
Commissioner Bud Selig, who was happy enough to ignore the subject, has gotten religion. Of course, in the seasons immediately following the Strike of '94, which he helped orchestrate, Selig was delighted to see astronomical home run totals from juiced players, since it resuscitated interest among disgusted fans.
Finally the leading villain in the saga, the players' union, is huddled in its annual executive board meeting in Arizona this week to find a way to address, or more likely try to manage and minimize the impact of, the vast PR storm that is battering its doors.
All of this is wonderful progress because baseball never changes for the better unless pressure is applied. Left to itself, the game ducks its problems, focuses on infighting and concentrates on managing the spin. Now public pressure is coming in a tidal wave. Controversial issues in sports never matter until, one day, they suddenly do. Some final incident ignites the public's anger. That, in turn, inspires us in the media to feed our audience an endless diet of stories on the subject.
Lo and behold, we achieve critical mass. And, finally, something gets done.
But look what it took for the public to rise up against baseball's indifference to the integrity of its sport and the long-term health of its players. Given the body of evidence on the psychological and physical damage that steroids do, it's incredible that athletes are allowed to poison themselves by the same employers, union and fans who claim to value them.
One former most valuable player, Ken Caminiti, is dead. Was steroid use a factor? No one knows. Many suspect.
Another MVP, Jason Giambi, has a benign pituitary tumor. Was steroid use (which he reportedly admitted before a federal grand jury) a factor? Is his career ruined?
Another MVP, Jose Canseco, ended up under house arrest after years of erratic behavior. Was steroid use a factor?
A fourth MVP, Barry Bonds, who once hit 73 home runs, has admitted through his lawyer to using two kinds of steroids, though he claims he didn't know that's what they were.
Hey, guys, look! I just gained 25 pounds of muscle. This "flaxseed oil" my trainer has been giving me is amazing stuff! How many people measure their "flaxseed oil" precisely? How many administer "flaxseed oil" on a regulated schedule? You wouldn't want to take an extra drop of "flaxseed oil" on the wrong day of the week. You might develop X-ray vision or buy a cape and start to fly.
Finally, a tipping point has arrived with regard to steroids. And, once again, the proper course of action is obvious. Since 2001, baseball has had a minor league drug-testing policy that calls for three random tests a year, including some in the offseason. Punishments start at a 15-day suspension for the first offense and, by the fifth offense, results in permanent suspension. Since '01, positive tests in the minors have shrunk from 9 percent to 4 percent.
Experts can debate whether this policy is strict enough. Baseball's instinct, especially if it anticipates an eventual showdown with the union, is to take a soft position, then talk bravely about it. The game might actually be better off if McCain cooked up a law with such sharp teeth that the union would think it was swimming in a pool of sharks.
What's most important is that players take back possession of their bodies and health. No one should have to take an illegal and dangerous drug just to compete on a level playing field. The notion that a union would work against drug testing that was designed to benefit its membership is immoral.
At this moment, every form of pressure is valuable. But none is as authentic, and as needed, as pressure from the game's honest players. John Smoltz and a few others have said they are disgusted. Now hundreds of other voices must join them.
One way or the other, whether the union likes it or not, baseball will have a much different policy on drug testing by Opening Day. The players have a choice. They can tell their leadership exactly what kind of strict steroid testing they want negotiated with the owners and specify what limits they demand on the invasion of their privacy. Or the majority of major leaguers can buckle before a minority of their members who have a selfish agenda. In that case, a bunch of politicians in Washington would start sticking their law-making noses into every player's private business.
Who do you trust more? Your union negotiating with your best interests finally at heart? Or Congress as the public howls?
What a choice. As usual in baseball, the answer is as obvious as it is overdue.