John U. Bacon

The gears of justice grind slowly, but they do grind, and sometimes they actually get their man – or woman, as the case may be.

The sports world saw its share of slow-moving justice this week, from the global to the local.

New York Yankees’ third basemen Alex Rodriguez has already admitted he used steroids, but only after his tests were leaked to the press. He’s still playing, and is now one just home run away from hitting 600. Twenty years ago this would have been big news – but since suspected steroid users Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds crossed that threshold, the luster is lost. About half of those polled said they simply don’t care – and they polled New Yorkers. If they don’t care, why should we?

Rodriguez cheated himself out of his own celebration. Seems about right to me.

Overseas, seven-time Tour de France winner Lance Armstrong dropped from the leader board for the first time in years. He’s long been suspected of using performance-enhancing drugs, too, but he’s never failed a drug test. Still, the circumstantial evidence is mounting. Greg Lemond, the first American to win the Tour in 1986, publicly wondered years ago why Armstrong had worked with a dirty doctor in Italy known to traffic in steroids. But the blowback hit not Armstrong but Lemond, who felt compelled to apologize for his comments.

In 2006, Floyd Landis pulled off one of the greatest finishes in Tour de France history, then tested positive for drugs. He denied it, he denied it and he denied it – until this spring, when he ‘fessed up. But, he said, Armstrong took them too.

It was a gutless act from a gutless man, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t telling the truth – for once. Armstrong brushed it off, and given Landis’s record for integrity, it wasn’t hard to do. But it seems the noose is slowly tightening, and we’ve not heard the end of this story.

We’re also missing the story in golf. Yes, Tiger Woods’ love life made great tabloid fodder, and has cost him millions in endorsements and probably his marriage – but not his career. No, the real story, the one few seem to be pursuing, centers on his mysterious Canadian doctor. Dr. Tony Galea has been linked to a number of drug-using athletes, and is currently facing charges. Woods says he’s never taken any performance-enhancing drugs, but if so, why would you ever call a doctor like Galea? Best case scenario: it was an extremely stupid decision.

Golf is the only sport where you’re expected to call penalties on yourself, even when no one’s watching. So if Woods is found guilty, he should not expect his sport to be very forgiving. He will be stripped of every tournament he has ever won. Mark my words: Watch this one carefully.

And now to our own backyard.

You might recall Kimberly Knight, the woman who appeared in court a year ago to face charges she’d embezzled almost a million dollars from the kids who play in the Ann Arbor Amateur Hockey Association. Judge Melinda Morris gave her a shockingly light suspended sentence, requiring Knight to return only a small fraction of the money, with no jail time.

Well, Knight showed her first collision with the law was no fluke when she failed to produce court-ordered tax records, and faced unrelated fraud charges. Morris gave her a minimum two-year sentence. Though I’d still like to see Knight forced to give far more of the stolen money back to the kids who need it, it was good to see a little accountability, at least.

These examples remind me of a quote from Winston Churchill. When he was asked about democracy – including our ideas of justice – he said, “It’s the worst system in the world – except for all the others.”

So it was nice to see the worst system in the world have a pretty good week.

About the author: John U. Bacon lives in Ann Arbor and has written for Time, the New York Times, and ESPN Magazine, among others. His most recent book is “Bo’s Lasting Lessons,” a New York Times and Wall Street Journal business bestseller. Bacon teaches at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio; Northwestern’s Medill School of Journalism; and the University of Michigan, where the students awarded him the Golden Apple Award for 2009. This commentary originally aired on Michigan Radio.

John U. Bacon

On Monday, former home run hitter Mark McGwire talked to sports broadcaster Bob Costas in an attempt to restore his good name.

He had a lot of restoring to do.

McGwire was one of those super-sized sluggers who were knocking out home runs at a record rate in the ’90s. And, like his peers – Barry Bonds and Sammy Sosa – McGwire was widely rumored to be taking steroids.

In fact, the FBI gave the commissioner of baseball a list of 70 players they discovered were taking steroids, including McGwire – two decades ago. The commissioner, of course, promptly did absolutely nothing, because he was too hooked on the home runs that were saving baseball from itself after he had canceled the 1994 World Series.

And the hits just kept on coming. In 1998, McGwire broke one of the game’s most revered records when he shattered Roger Maris’s old mark of 61 home runs in a season by smashing 70. He was a national hero.

But the gig was up five years ago when McGwire’s former teammate, Jose Conseco Canseco, published a tell-all book in which he named names – including McGwire. You know you’re in a cesspool when the only guy telling the truth, Canseco, is a convicted felon.

Canseco’s book led to a Congressional hearing the same year. When it was McGwire’s turn to testify, he famously said, “I am not here to talk about the past.” Unfortunately, “the past” is usually what Congressional hearings are all about.

It was a public relations disaster. When the Hall of Fame voters turned their ballots in the next year, less than 25% voted for McGwire. A player needs three times that to get in. He’s not done any better since – and now he’s going to help coach the St. Louis Cardinals. He wants a clean slate.

Thus, Monday’s “Hail Mary” interview, in which McGwire said, “It was a mistake.” No, picking the wrong restaurant for dinner is a mistake. Injecting yourself with illegal steroids for fame and fortune is a deal with the devil.

He also said, “I regret I played in the steroids era.” That’s like Bernie Madoff saying, “I regret I was an investor during the Ponzi Scheme era.” Sorry, it doesn’t cut it.

But then, even more absurdly, McGwire said, with a straight face, that he didn’t take steroids to hit more home runs – no! – but for “health purposes.” In other words, we should ignore the fact that his season-high home run total skyrocketed from 49 to 70 – or that he played with the faith of 300 million people, to update The Great Gatsby’s take on the Black Sox scandal.

It seems to me a real confession is marked by sincerity, not self-interest. Its value is directly related to how much the confessor risks by making it.

In McGwire’s case, he fudged so much that it’s hard to call it a confession at all, and he was risking absolutely nothing. Everybody already knew he took steroids, and his chance to be brave about it came and went years ago. We knew he was a fraud as a player. On Monday we learned he’s a fraud as a person, as well. McGwire’s just trying to scam us – again.

If we can apply Kubler-Ross’s stages of grief to McGwire’s mess, we can see he’s gone from stage one, denial, to stage three, bargaining – but he’s still a long way from the final stage, honest acceptance.

And he is just as far from the front doors of Cooperstown.

About the author: John U. Bacon lives in Ann Arbor and has written for Time, the New York Times, and ESPN Magazine, among others. His most recent book is “Bo’s Lasting Lessons,” a New York Times and Wall Street Journal business bestseller. Bacon teaches at Miami of Ohio, Northwestern’s Medill School of Journalism, and the University of Michigan, where the students awarded him the Golden Apple Award for 2009. This commentary originally aired on Michigan Radio.