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Wally has been a great friend, and that quote was merely the latest example of his largesse. Years of journalistic training enabled me to see Bud Selig's self-serving proclamation for what it was: a target of opportunity, something to be beaten down, much the way Manny Ramirez looks upon a Barry Zito curve.
If it's spring training, we must be talking about performance-enhancing drugs. It's become an annual rite under Bud Selig's tenure. The news of late has been about Alex Rodriguez, and the man he used as a personal trainer through the 2007 season. Angel Presinal was banned from major league clubhouses in 2002, not long after he was caught with steroids in Canada. But here it is 2009, and he's still a story. What's more, there's still a bunch of Dominican stars who swear by him.
And Bud Selig wouldn't have done anything differently? Of course not. He's Bud Selig.
So I call a guy at baseball. I consider him a friend, too. He tells me that MLB did everything it could, but that the game has no real jurisdiction outside the ballparks.
Somehow, I think that baseball would've been more effective getting its point across if Presinal were, say, a known gambler or better yet, someone the commissioner, in his infallible interpretation of the "best interests" clause deemed a more classical type of "unsavory character." All of a sudden, this guy wanted me to believe that Selig was powerless. But I remember when baseball told players to stay away from the unsavory types in a nefarious joint (actually, it wasn't so nefarious) called Jimmy's Bronx Cafe.
So I spent the better part of my day on the phone. I do a conference call with two of Selig's ranking PR guys and Rob Manfred, his executive vice president for labor relations.
Manfred argued vociferously and very well. Still, he couldn't explain away the central question: Why Presinal a guy who should've been gone seven years ago remains a major player with major league players. I remind him that just a year ago the general manager of the New York Mets Omar Minaya called Presinal a "highly, highly respected" figure.
So how effective could that clubhouse ban have been?
In 2001, Presinal was detained with steroids in Canada. He told authorities that they were for former Indians and Rangers slugger, Juan Gonzalez. The commissioner's office said it would investigate the matter. But according to the Mitchell Report, "There is no evidence that such an investigation ever was conducted beyond a search for Presinal's Cleveland address." More, from page 97 of the report: "None of the eyewitnesses whom we interviewed during the course of our investigation was contacted by anyone about the incident until a news report about it appeared in July 2006."
That would've been a New York Daily News exclusive of July 30. Not coincidentally, it was also the Daily News that reported on Presinal's involvement with Alex Rodriguez.
Now everybody wants A-Rod to come clean. But what about Selig? He's like Rodriguez; he comes clean only after these matters become public. Still, given his I-wouldn't-do-anything-different bit, I wonder if he'll ever really fess up.
Then there's Venus Williams, who played and cited her commercial obligations:
Like the rest of the WTA, after Israeli Shahar Peer was banned from playing in Dubai, Venus Williams played on.
"We wouldn't be here without sponsors and we can't let them down," she said.
Of course, I can't help but wondering (like the Los Angeles Times' Kurt Streeter) if Williams would be quite so concerned about the sponsors if Dubai had banned a player of African or Latin heritage.
By the way, Andy Roddick should've gotten more props for pulling out of Dubai.
Kindler, gentler Joe Girardi canceled workouts Monday so the team could shoot pool.
Maybe next week, the Bombers will all pile in the team van for a day of mini-golf.
Flipping the channels when I came upon Conan the Destroyer.
Took some explaining to convince my kid that the tastefully attired dude in that furry jock was our governor.
Yeah, if only he still had Grace Jones and Wilt at his side. He'd straighten this budget thing out no problem.
Forget the Pulitzer. For a frightened, rookie columnist no award could bestow the confidence or honor conferred with these several sentences spoken by Sal Gerage, in the spring of 1991, at the sportsdesk of the New York Post.
"Listen to the skinny guinea," he said. "I seen 'em all. You're gonna be allright, kid."
Thank you, Sal. Rest in Peace.
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