I Ran Out Of Gas! I Had A Flat Tire! I Didn’t Have Enough Money For Cab Fare! My Tux Didn’t Come Back From The Cleaners! An Old Friend Came In From Out Of Town! Someone Stole My Car! There Was An Earthquake! A Terrible Flood! Locusts! IT WASN’T MY FAULT, I SWEAR TO GOD!

Did you forget any other excuses, Bud?   Or do you think I covered about all of them for you?

The first person I thought of when I heard Bud Selig with his lame “Don’t blame me” pity plea he delivered to the media Tuesday was  John Belushi from The Blues Brothers.  To my knowledge, Selig wasn’t wearing sunglasses at the time of his statement, nor was he 106 miles from Chicago with a half a pack of cigarettes in his possession.  A full tank of gas?  More like a tank of hot air, courtesy of the PR firm “Bullshit By Bud”.  Where’s Carrie Fisher and a gun when you need one to get to the truth?

Okay -- it's not from the right movie, but admit it.  THIS is the picture you were hoping to see, right?

Okay -- it's not from the right movie, but admit it. THIS is the picture you were hoping to see, right?

Selig is quick to come to his own defense, claiming that under his direction as Commissioner, baseball has “come farther than anyone had ever dreamed possible.”  B.S. Bud  is equally quick to point an accusatory finger at the player’s union, stating, “I tried to institute a steroid policy.  Needless to say, it was met with strong resistance. We were fought by the union every step of the way.”   Well, that’s just tremendously reassuring to me — isn’t it to you?

Of course, Selig isn’t going to mention that, while the players union was hostile to the idea of a steroid policy being implemented, the owners and the Commissioner himself weren’t exactly bending over backwards to make such a policy a top priority.  And why would they, with the game only just recovering from the incredible greed of both parties during the strike that killed the 1994 season (and nearly the whole game)?  They weren’t going to, not with that recovery planted firmly on the larger-than-life, artificially-enhanced shoulders of Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa — and their home-run hitting brethren.  As long as the money was pouring in, Selig — like everyone else in the game — was interested only in knowing as little as he could, thereby avoiding having to take any accountability later.  Just like in this case.

The only real progress in the steroid issue came when Congress — for better or for worse (and I’m one who won’t disagree that the government has bigger fish to fry than sports’ drug issues) — put the hammer to MLB and essentially forced the game to start cleaning itself up, with the players and owners grudgingly going along in public with an undertaking they’d probably wished they’d never have to see — and despite what he claims, never would have seen with Selig in charge if the feds wouldn’t have gotten involved.

The sad thing is about Selig’s childish finger-pointing is that the only way there’s going to be real progress in testing for performance-enhancing drugs in MLB will be for the owners, Commissioner, and the players union to — gasp! — work together on the matter.  Good luck with that now, after this divisive nonsense by the Commissioner, who has once again proven that he’s a poor substitute for real leadership in a role that requires it.   A real leader would have taken the responsibility for the problem that occurred on his watch, but like A-Rod’s 2003 steroid tests, “Don’t-blame-me-Bud” gets a failing grade.  Color me unsurprised.


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