Exercise Caution With Jose Canseco
In his first literary endeavor, the No. 1 bestseller “Juiced,” Jose Canseco was able to accomplish something he never would have been capable of in his chosen field. As a ballplayer, Canseco averaged 114 strikeouts a season but as a first-time author, he took five big swings and connected on four of them.
That’s a pretty good rate of success in any field. It is also the only reason anyone is paying the slightest bit of attention to his follow-up effort, the title of which will not be repeated here for fear, however remote, that it might actually help him sell a copy or two.
It is bad enough that a man who in his life has probably never read anything that didn’t have a centerfold can somehow have “written” a book that lived for eight solid weeks on The New York Times bestseller list.
That one, at least, had names _ Mark McGwire, Jason Giambi, Rafael Palmeiro, Juan Gonzalez and Pudge Rodriguez, to name the biggest _ and a semblance of truth, since four of them, minus Pudge, either admitted to, were caught in the act of, or ran away from the accusations Canseco pinned on them.
This one has names, too, but little else. The sequel is never as good as the original, but this is so bad it’s ridiculous. Jose Canseco says he introduced Alex Rodriguez to “a known supplier of steroids” _ italics by the author _ and that means, of course, that Canseco has the goods on A-Rod. Which means, of course, that you should buy this book (italics by the columnist).
Not.
No wonder Don Yaeger, Canseco’s collaborator on “Juiced,” ran away from the sequel the way McGwire ran away from the original. No wonder they had to resort to using the guy who ghostwrote O.J.’s “fictional” confession to the murder of his ex-wife. No wonder no legitimate publishing house would touch this mess with one of Canseco’s alcohol swabs.
To claim that because a ballplayer once met a steroids dealer _ and in the current environment, I defy you to show me one who hasn’t _ proves that said athlete is, like Canseco, a steroid abuser, a felon and a cheat, is ludicrous and probably libelous. For instance, at a boxing match some years ago, a promoter introduced me to a well-known, now deceased, Queens-based mob boss. Does that make me a capo?
What it does, is put A-Rod’s name in play, the same way he put McGwire’s and Giambi’s and Palmeiro’s and the rest of them. Canseco may be the boy who cried wolf but last time around, there really was a wolf at the door. That’s why, as slimy as this messenger is, we have no choice but to take a look at the message. And considering all we have learned during the past three years from “Game of Shadows,” a legitimate book by legitimate authors, the Mitchell Report, the Congressional hearings and the testimony of Brian McNamee and Kirk Radomski, one would have to be naive or foolish to swear that anyone in professional sports is absolutely clean.
This is less the fault of Canseco than of Bud Selig and Donald Fehr, who in their greed and amorality encouraged and abetted the flourishing of the steroid culture, compromised their game’s integrity, tarnished the legacies of its greatest retired stars and cast suspicion on each and every one of their current stars. Perhaps worst of all, they created the monstrous figure of Jose Canseco, Best-Selling Author.
Without the help of Selig and Fehr, there is no “Juiced”. And without “Juiced,” there is no follow-up, a tirade motivated not by altruism or even greed so much as Canseco’s hatred for Rodriguez, whom he alleges lusted after his second wife, Jessica _ a woman, incidentally, Canseco was later arrested for smacking around and subsequently divorced.
No matter. At the time, the two were lovey-dovey, fresh off their romantic meeting at Hooters _ no joke! _ and Canseco’s wound is still so raw he admits in the book that he “hates _ _ guts.” In fact, he repeats the sentiment, in various forms, no less than six times in 10 pages.
So much for being a whistle-blower. So much for wanting to do the right thing. So much for not having an agenda or a vendetta. So much for the offering your reading public the plain, unvarnished, unadulterated truth.
Sadly, it may turn out that someday, A-Rod will wind up on the Shame Brigade with so many others, especially since baseball continues to drag its feet on HGH testing. Right now, the only consequence for a ballplayer using HGH is that he might wind up in Jose Canseco’s next book.
If there is any justice in the world, the title of that book will be “Incarcerated: My View From the Lower Bunk.” At the very least, Jose Canseco is guilty of criminal impersonation of a writer.
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