Gwen Knapp
Caminiti exposes dirty truth
Gwen Knapp
Thursday, October 14, 2004
In memory of Ken Caminiti, I'd like to see a patch on the sleeve of every major-league baseball jersey next year, with a No. 41 in the middle of a black circle. That was Caminiti's age when he suddenly and half-mysteriously dropped dead on Sunday.
The tribute will never happen. It's too impolitic, too emotional. A trip to the ballpark is an escapist adventure, and no one there -- not the players, fans or media -- wants to be confronted with this kind of symbol. Caminiti wasn't Jackie Robinson, a hero who dragged baseball away from the ugliest piece of its history. Caminiti dragged baseball toward the dirty truth of modern sports, forcing it face-to-face with the fact that one of its Most Valuable Players had used steroids to win the award.
In 20o2, he told Sports Illustrated that he began taking the drugs because of a shoulder injury early in the 1996 season and, without naming another player, estimated that half of his fellow major-leaguers were on the juice. At that point, no prominent baseball player had ever admitted to using performance-enhancing drugs.
"I think he took a tremendous risk in doing it,'' said Elliot Pellman, the medical adviser to Major League Baseball. "He most certainly cut himself off from his peers, and of course, he broke through that wall of silence. I truly respect what he did.''
Pellman was hired about a year after the Caminiti story came out. He had already spent 16 years as an adviser to the NFL, helping football address its steroid problem. Pellman can't be sure that Caminiti's confession led to his hiring, or whether it contributed to the 2002 labor agreement, which included the first steroid ban in the major leagues. But the published admission certainly made it harder for baseball to keep running away from the issue.
Now, Caminiti is dead at 41, and denial becomes even more difficult.
The science of his death probably won't indict steroid use, at least not directly. Caminiti abused street drugs, drank excessively and generally wore down his body. Anything could have sent him into coronary arrest on Sunday. But doctors have repeatedly warned that regular use of anabolic steroids can weaken the heart. Many physicians also believe that using steroids can lead to other forms of substance abuse or exacerbate an existing addiction.
Steroids tend to put users on a high, make them feel invulnerable. Coming off them can be psychologically devastating. Caminiti told Sports Illustrated that the drugs had shut down his body's production of testosterone, a common side effect, and that the hormonal imbalance had left him depressed.
Of course, this is all anecdotal. There is no absolute proof of what steroids do to the human body when used in the dosages apparently favored by elite athletes.
"People are always getting into their pulpits, pounding their fists on their desks and saying: 'How do you know? How do you know?' " Pellman said. "Well, we can't be certain, because it would be unethical to do studies that would require human beings to take (that amount of) anabolic steroids.''
But now Caminiti is dead, and the burden of proof has become a little lighter. An autopsy report can't erase the doubts and fears planted by his obituary.
Ever since the BALCO grand jury hauled in prominent major leaguers as witnesses, there has been speculation that the players' association might agree to tougher drug testing. Kevin Towers, the Padres' general manager, hopes that the union and baseball executives will see the warning in Caminiti's death and act on it.
In the years since Caminiti left the majors, Towers has talked with him off and on, through drug rehabilitation and after the steroid admission. He never saw him as a pariah. This spring, he invited him to work with the Padres, possibly working toward becoming a coach. The effort didn't take, and Caminiti wandered off again. He ended up serving time in a Houston jail for using street drugs. Towers heard through the player's agent that Caminiti recently tried to reach him by phone from the jail, where he was required to call collect.
"He didn't want to leave a message, because he was too embarrassed,'' Towers said over the phone, his voice starting to break. "He shouldn't have been embarrassed. I was crushed when I heard that. I would have done anything to talk to him one more time.''
Baseball is redeemed by Towers' concern for the MVP who became a lost soul. Towers is hardly soft on steroid use. Under his direction, in the early 1990s, the Padres became the first team to test its minor-leaguers, who weren't covered by the union.
The players' association and commissioner's office have wrestled over drug testing, competing like politicians. Towers simply treated Caminiti as a human being.
"The last thing I want is for him to be remembered as the guy wearing that orange jumpsuit, in shackles, a drug addict,'' Towers said. "He was a good guy. He really was.''
He doesn't necessarily want Caminiti to be remembered as a steroid user, either. But if that helps clean up the sport, then Caminiti's confession to Sports Illustrated will be a legacy of truth.
"I can imagine him looking down and hoping people see what happened,'' Towers said, "and he's saying 'Look where I'm at right now.' "
JonR
