McCarthyism

My fiancee and I watched about two hours' worth of the recent inquisition of major league baseball players. I listened as parents and experts spoke of the pressure put on young players not by major league players, but by other players, recruiters and coaches to "bulk up" in order to achieve more and have hope of achieving professional success.

And yet, rather than blaming those who appear to be really at fault, I have a deja vu moment when it becomes the major league players' turn to testify. The congressional panel pressures the players present to "name names" of those who have committed the sin of steroid abuse, and the players ardently refuse to throw friends and respected peers into the limelight. Some even face charges for using chemicals in the past that are illegal now, but were not against the rules at the time they were consumed (Mark McGuire faces the possibility of disciplinary penalties for using Andro to "bulk up," in spite of the fact he quit using the substance in 1999, citing the fact that he didn't want to become a spokesman for the product, five years before it became against the rules to use the substance).

All of this song and dance just to get a couple more names to add to the list. Does this sound hauntingly familiar to anyone else?

Now, I am not saying these people are altruistic, shining examples of love and charity. I think baseball players as a whole are grossly overpaid and many are prima donnas in realms that would put the vainest of actresses to shame. But I bristle whenever I see a misappropriation of blame on such a massive scale, just because the name "Mark McGuire" or "Sammy Sosa" is more recognizable than "Coach Joe Brown" and will sell about a million more papers or get people to turn on their TVs with much greater frequency. A witch hunt fixes absolutely nothing, and only causes a proliferation of suspicion and hysteria. If no one is willing to place blame where blame is actually due, then the problem will only grow.

Copyright 2005 S.L. Olson

Decisions, Decisions...

I've spent the past week or so contemplating what I want to do with this little corner of the web, and haven't made much progress thus far deciding anything yet (which should not be a huge surprise to those who know me well). I've started and then walked away from a number of posts that just turned out feeling rather trite and not worth anyone's time (they were barely worth my own).

But good grief, I finally realized, why worry so much about a bloody theme? If the late twentieth century taught us anything, it pointed out that sometimes art can exist just fine and dandy when in existence for its own sake rather than always being so damned concerned about actually "saying something." Sometimes, beauty, meaning, and power can even lie hiding within things that don't initially appear to mean too much. After all, sometimes even a comic book super hero can be poignant.

Copyright 2005 S.L. Olson