Big Names, Big Liars, and the Battle to Save Baseball
by Jose Canseco
When his first book — JUICED: Wild Times, Rampant ’Roids, Smash Hits, and How Baseball Got Big — was published in 2005, Jose Canseco received the same enmity as Jim Bouton a generation before.
Bouton, a pitcher for the New York Yankees, Seattle Pilots and Houston Astros (with a brief comeback attempt for the Atlanta Braves) in the ’60s and ’70s, wrote BALL FOUR, which ushered in a new era of sports book. Out was the “heroes on a white horse” paean; in was the tell-all, behind-the-scenes exposé.
Canseco, a powerfully built slugger for the Oakland Athletics and several other teams, proudly came forward to admit that he had used steroids to help further his career. Not that he condoned such activity, mind you, even though he said repeatedly how much he loved what they did for him physically and psychologically and how he instructed others in their usage. In fact, Canseco spends a good deal of print contradicting himself. Of course, he should be excused because everything he did, he did to make good on a promise to his poor old mother to “be the best.”
He portrayed himself as the voice of truth and reason, and bemoaned the fact that no one would believe him and that his noble intentions got him blackballed from the game. It couldn’t possibly be that the fact his skills had eroded was the reason he could no longer find employment. But, as the saying goes, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not trying to get you.
Although JUICED was considered just a cut above The National Enquirer for integrity and reliability, it actually did open the consciousness about performance-enhancing drugs, and for that he deserves some credit, as much as readers, fellow players, sports journalists and baseball executives are loathe to admit it. Unfortunately, Canseco wasn’t content to leave it at that.
In VINDICATED: Big Names, Big Liars, and the Battle to Save Baseball, he feels compelled to give his critics a great big “I told you so,” taking the credit for blowing the whistle on an issue that the owners and Players Association ignored in order to bring in more fans, appreciative of the mammoth home runs hit by such musclemen as Mark McGwire and Barry Bonds. But even a stopped watch is right twice a day. Canseco wants thanks for following his conscience and taking on the Herculean (or is it Cassandran) task of single-handedly trying to “save baseball,” as he indicates in his subtitle.
The book was put together hastily following the December 2007 Mitchell Report that named scores of players suspected of “using,” names Canseco said he didn’t need to reveal in his first go-around, although he claimed that 80 percent of players were imbibing.
In some cases, Canseco (most likely at his lawyers’ urgings) does not actually come out and accuse players. Rather he lists their statistics “before and after,” implying that drugs were the reason. As further “evidence,” he includes a photo gallery of several players early in their careers and more recently. See the changes in their bodies? How else can you explain their new buff looks? How could they not be pharmaceutically enhanced?
One name he does mention, with particular venom, is New York Yankees third baseman Alex Rodriguez. Canseco devotes several pages to explaining why he didn’t name “A-Rod” in JUICED, despite stating that the perennial all-star was constantly pestering him with questions and asking to be put in touch with the proper people. The reason? Because Canseco hated him for trying to steal his wife. It seems to me that if he hated him that much, he would have pointed the finger as soon as he had the chance. This is just another example of the inconsistencies in VINDICATED.
Many critics have accused Canseco of not having anything new to say, that he was just trying to make some additional coin off the Mitchell Report and subsequent Congressional hearings in March. The construction of the book seems to concur. To flesh it out, he includes the lengthy statistical appendix as well as partial transcripts from his hearing testimony and lie detector tests, which, as anyone who has ever watched an episode of “Law & Order” will tell you, proves nothing conclusively. He finishes up with a chapter revealing a typical “day in the life” now that he is out of baseball.
Canseco had a difficult time bringing his latest project to press. First there was trouble finding a publisher, then his original ghostwriter dropped out. Pablo Fenjves, who took on the assignment at the last minute, is nowhere to be found on the cover, blurb, or title or copyright pages; he is mentioned in the acknowledgments, though without explanation of his participation — just another name in a list.
Canseco claims that everything he did was for the love of the game. Maybe he really believes that. It’s hard to tell because he comes across as so phony.
(This review appeared on Bookreporter.com on May 16. Click here for a review of his first book, Juiced.)
The Week is an interesting publication, kind of like a condense Reader’s Digest offering snippets from other publications on the major events of the last seven days. As such, it has to be circumspect in what it chooses to include in its scant pages. This week, it takes up the Canseco kerfuffle with a synopsis of “what happened” and “what the commentators said” (from Newsday, Rotoworld.com, and The New York Times.
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