Mitchell Report ends up buried on the bench

It has been about 10 days since Bud Selig and Donald Fehr put the Mitchell Report behind them.

And why not? That’s what their athletes always do when confronted with something uncomfortable or distasteful. They put it behind them. They’ve made it a cliche.

Most media outlets followed along nicely. The story of Selig’s announcement that players named in the Mitchell Report would not be penalized barely got a peep on the nightly news and settled in nicely somewhere around Page 9 in many sports sections.

That’s understandable.

We are a society that dislikes distractions to our fun and games. We don’t like to spend time outside the lines. We don’t dwell on old stuff. We put it behind us.

The hip “SportsCenter” audience of today demands slam dunks, NASCAR wrecks and colliding outfielders. If it isn’t now and it isn’t visual, it isn’t.

Selig, the commissioner of baseball, and Fehr, the head of the players’ union, found a middle ground upon which to stand. Selig needed Fehr to agree to additional elements of a future drug testing program, and Fehr needed Selig not to punish any of his players named in the Mitchell Report as drug cheaters.

So they held hands and told the world the best solution was to let bygones be bygones, a decision made even easier by the fact that Mitchell himself recommended exactly that. It would be pretty foolish, after all, to ignore the wisdom of a man who, among other things, cobbled together a truce in Northern Ireland where others had failed for decades.

Selig said, “There is little to be gained at this point in debating misconduct and enduring numerous disciplinary proceedings.”

Fehr said, “In many instances, naming of the players was punishment enough.”

And then there was, of course, Jose Guillen of the Kansas City Royals, a player who had been hit with a 15-day suspension under baseball’s existing drug policy, but who had that penalty delayed by the announcement of the Mitchell findings, in which he was named. After Guillen was told that the Selig-Fehr ruling meant he didn’t have to serve his 15 days, he responded as programmed.

“I’ll put this behind me,” he said.

The spirit of compromise has won out, a process at which Selig excels. Presumably, Major League Baseball’s future will be devoid of cheaters who buy a chemical edge.

But before we hurry to get on with things, some questions need to be raised, one last time. Such as:

How does the dad feel who brought his impressionable young son or daughter to Dodger Stadium a few years ago and watched as Eric Gagne came in from the bullpen, music blaring, an entire stadium pumped up? Remember “Game Over”?

Did the dad and his child see fastballs or fraud balls? Does dad now get a refund of the $100 he spent on tickets, parking and food? And by how many fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, grandpas and grandmas and friends and neighbors do you multiply that $100?

What about those Dodgers fans who worshiped the personable Paul Lo Duca? When his teammates said he brought great chemistry to the clubhouse, little did we really know. Will he be making any emotional or dollar refunds?

Are fans of the Milwaukee Brewers and Washington Nationals, respective current homes of Gagne and Lo Duca, putting all that behind them?

Isn’t track star/chemist Marion Jones in jail? Yes, she lied to the feds, which is bad stuff. But wasn’t her basic sin trying to get an edge so she could become a star and make lots more money? And the basic sin of the nearly 100 players named in the Mitchell Report was, ah . . . ?

No, none of them lied to the feds -- we may eventually see about Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens in that regard. With a few exceptions, they just refused to talk to the Mitchell investigators. Apparently, Marion Jones would have been better off under the shield of Fehr.

Jones has given back priceless Olympic medals and huge sums of money. Has there been any giveback, in any form, from anybody named in the Mitchell Report?

Were the typical non-apology apologies, given out by those who are still playing and had to address it when they reported to spring training, enough? When Lo Duca and Gagne said they were sorry if they offended anybody and caused problems for their teammates or families, did that close the door on the issue for everybody?

Interestingly, a poster child for much of what goes on in big-time sports today is a women’s soccer goalie.

In 1999, when the U.S. won the World Cup in a shootout with China, Briana Scurry made the winning save by leaving her goal a split second before she was allowed to by the rules. Asked about it afterward, she said, “It’s not cheating unless you get caught.”

Baseball has now added to that concept: You may get caught, but you won’t get punished. You needn’t worry about accountability. That’s something for people speaking from pulpits or editorial pages. Enabled by your leaders and an ever-forgiving public, you don’t even need to give this a second thought. Road trips overshadow guilt trips.

Life goes on, and so do the boys of summer, some of whom should be wearing a big “M” for Mitchell on their uniforms.

Clearly, the content and impact of the Mitchell Report is old news. And so, there will be a concerted effort here to understand that, to come to grips with it.

Once we do, we will put it behind us.

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