Home Runs Seem Particularly Juicy

During Mark McGwire’s journey toward 70 home runs, a bottle of androstenedione was discovered in his locker.

It is a metabolite of a steroid. It is banned by the international sports community. It was admittedly being ingested by McGwire throughout the 1998 season.

Asterisk? No, applause.

Shortly after Sammy Sosa hit more than 60 home runs three times in four seasons, a chunk of cork was discovered in his bat.

It popped out during a game. He admitted he owned the bat.

Tainted? No, embraced.

On Tuesday, Barry Bonds and his record 73-homer season were finally, directly linked to the possession of steroids.

Ramifications? Yeah, right.

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It is one of the first baseball rules a child understands. Yet it is a rule that those experts who think baseball will now come clean cannot comprehend.

Home runs touch all the bases.

Home runs score not only on the playing field, but in media and business and entertainment.

Home runs account not only for runs, but ticket sales and television contracts and salaries.

A home run is more than the most revered statistic in sports.

It is the most valuable inventory for a team trying to lure customers -- the Texas Rangers built an entire ballpark devoted to home runs, then paid $252 million to a player who hits 50 per season.

It is the sexiest commodity for a television network trying to lure viewers -- remember those All-Star game ads in which the players appeared as giant-armed cartoons hitting longballs?

It is the prime bargaining chip for a player, and union, hoping to raise salaries -- most of the highest-paid position players such as Alex Rodriguez, Manny Ramirez and Carlos Delgado are home-run hitters.

A home run is sacred. Those in power will do anything to protect it. If that means ignoring a potentially dangerous drug that leads to more home runs, so be it.

Face it. This long and ugly hunt for evidence to directly connect baseball’s strongmen with steroid use would have ended long ago if somebody with influence had actually wanted to find it.

But even as scientists are warning of the long-term damage, even as the relatives of the late steroid-using Lyle Alzado are warning athletes they could also die of brain cancer at age 43, nobody is really listening.

As a federal investigation threatens to scar a summer, steroids are still little more than a raised eyebrow at a player’s acne-scarred back, a casual joke about a player’s thick neck, a batting-cage wink.

Any player who would still be using the drug during this probe is dumber than a resin bag.

But eventually the feds will disappear, no proof on any player will be found, and baseball will set its enlarged jaw and return to business.

“It’s sad, and it’s wrong,” the Angels’ Tim Salmon said last week. “But sometimes, it does seem like nobody cares.”

The owners don’t care.

Commissioner Bud Selig could have shut down baseball in 2002 if he was serious about steroids. Instead, he bowed to a union that insisted on a steroid policy so weak, the penalty for the first offense was counseling.

Counseling? Hey, Slugger, hitting 60 home runs and making a gazillion dollars is going to kill you, so cut it out, OK?

The owners saw their game saved in 1998 with the home-run race between McGwire and Sosa. The owners saw ballparks filled again when Bonds broke the record in 2001.

Each summer, owners sanction one event that is not an official game. It occurs on the eve of the All-Star game. Hint: It’s not a singles-hitting contest.

The union, of course, also doesn’t care.

Union boss Donald Fehr could end this mess today by proposing a toughening of the steroid policy to reflect the desires of the 95% of his membership that did not test positive for the drug.

But the union is more interested in protecting the 5% of its membership who are dirty.

Why? Well, what type of player has done the most for the raising of overall salaries? Another hint: It’s not the good-field, no-hit shortstop.

The number of players who have called for testing this spring are the noisemakers, not the rainmakers.

Then there are the television networks, who really don’t care.

Fox could also end this mess today by announcing that it was withholding some of its $2.5-billion payout until baseball cleaned up its house. After all, isn’t there something in that contract that prohibits baseball from fielding a tainted product?

Of course, Fox wouldn’t dare.

Last season ended with postseason ratings that were around 45% higher than the previous season, including the first playoff game ever that got a higher rating than “Monday Night Football.”

That postseason included the three main players whose names reportedly were given to federal officials -- Bonds, Jason Giambi and Gary Sheffield.

Then there is the government, which only recently began to care, and only when votes are at stake.

For years, Washington bowed to pressure from lobbyists while protecting the $16-billion nutritional supplement industry.

While steroids are illegal, other dangerous substances have been allowed to flow freely through a society that included baseball clubhouses.

Only now, during an election year, is President Bush actually talking about steroids while the government has finally banned the sometimes-deadly ephedra.

“I was watching the president’s speech when he mentioned steroids, and I couldn’t believe it,” Salmon said. “It was like, ‘Hey, he’s talking about us!’ ”

Finally, and perhaps most compelling, the fans don’t care.

Has anyone ever been booed for alleged steroid use?

Has anybody ever refused to watch a game because they didn’t want to see a home run hit by a chemically enhanced giant?

When that ball is sailing over the fence and the crowd is on its feet and the giant is strutting around the bases, who has time to think about chemicals?

Besides, fans today don’t mind if their athletes hurt themselves for sport. How else to explain the popularity of auto racing, the applause at hockey fights, and the tolerance for boxing?

Besides, by now, fans probably assume that everyone in baseball is cheating.

So the man who could end up the greatest home run hitter in baseball history allegedly accepted steroids from his trainer?

So what else is new?

The batter can be juiced. The pitcher can be juiced. The ball can be juiced.

As long as we can all share in the nectar.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.