Steroid Scandal: A Diehard Fan Mourns Sports' Loss of Innocence

Some of the best times between an Asian American and her immigrant father were watching the Chicago Bears and the amazing feats of Walter Payton. But if athletes today try to take the fast-track to greatness through performance-enhancing drugs, what happens to the wonder and dignity of sports?

By Pueng Vongs, Pacific News Service

December 7, 2004 - As news of the baseball steroid scandal began to unfold, an unfamiliar pall descended on my sports-frenetic weekend. One insider commented that steroids taint every major sport. I began to eye every fast break, every explosion through a wall of clinging linemen with increasing suspicion and anger. Was this a drug-propelled slam dunk or touchdown?

I analyzed each player's demeanor and physique judiciously, searching for signs of the phantom. Had this player gotten beefier during the off-season? Was this celebration in the end zone done out of passion and love for the sport, or was the guy on something?

Disgusted, I switched off my set, ripped off my favorite jersey and wondered if any jump into the stands or disco celebration in the end zone would ever be the same.

I've been a sports fan all my life. As a child, rare, shared moments between me and my Thai immigrant father occurred in front of the television on Sunday afternoons. We watched football in our apartment on the south side of Chicago. My father often worked exhausting, back-to-back shifts as a hotel clerk to feed his family, but he always found the energy and time to watch the game.

For many new immigrants, sports are a welcome distraction from the hard realities of their lives and help connect them to their adopted culture. The passion for competition and team pride is universal, and dispels the distance between newcomers and their new home. Some of the first words I learned in English were "touchdown" and "home run."

My father and I would quietly sit and watch the games during the frigid Chicago winters, the silence broken only by cheers for number 34, who would extend time and space when he slid through crowds of defenders and juked and shimmied out of the embrace of guys twice his size into daylight. His name was Walter Payton, one of the greatest football players of all time. We fans called him "Sweetness."

Today's games are not the same ones I watched as a child. They're faster, the players bigger and stronger. Football players have grown more than 100 pounds in the past 25 years; some hover around 400 pounds. Seven-foot centers are becoming the norm in basketball. And the stakes of sports are higher. In the past 10 years, salaries of top players in baseball have gone from $3 million per year to more than $20 million, not including the millions made in endorsements.

And fans make athletes earn their pay. Some are a foul-mouthed group mired in the hype, just as likely to cause riots when their team wins as when it loses. They expect athletes to be superhuman. For those who disappoint expectations, taunts or a spray of objects from the concession stands may await.

Why not give the fans what they want? After all, we already accept a wide variety of drugs to enhance our emotional, mental and physical states. We use Prozac to temper our depression, Viagra to boost sexual feats and Ritalin to calm our kids. Why should sports stars be exempt from using drugs to better equip them for battle? In fact many already use legal "performance enhancers" that fall beneath the radar of league restrictions and mimic the effect of steroids.

This past Sunday I got up early on a brisk San Francisco morning to travel to the downtown satellite sports bar to watch my still-beloved Chicago Bears. The bar was just a few blocks away from SBC Park, the baseball home of Barry Bonds, who has said he unwittingly used steroids in the 2003 season. The only Asian female surrounded by a mob of mostly men and frat boys, I saw no signs of concern or wavering enthusiasm. Patrons screamed every time their team made a big play, or slammed their hands down at the table and cursed at the screen when it did not. Looking around, it was hard to tell if there might be greater steroid use on the field or in the bar.

At one point I turned to my sports buddy, a runner and swimmer and a member of San Francisco's elite Dolphin Club. For fun, members like to swim in the frigid and choppy San Francisco Bay to Alcatraz and back. My friend has spent more than a year training in hopes of being among the select few who have crossed the English Channel. Each day she gets up at 4 a.m. to swim for two hours, sometimes in the dark and cold waters of the bay. She also runs several miles a week and is on a strict conditioning schedule that greatly restricts her life. She talks about other swimmers who prepare themselves for similar swims in cold water by spending long stretches of time in baths full of ice. I ask her if she would consider taking performance enhancing drugs. She says while it would help her tremendously, what would be the point? By using drugs to aid her in her goal, she would not be honoring the sport, her body and all her effort.

If it is indeed true that some 50 percent of professional baseball players take some kind of steroid already, we have already moved toward a day when sports may become little more than a video game, with athlete's feats of prowess reduced to everyday occurrences, numbing the enjoyment of it. Will children so eager to succeed in sports begin to chemically alter their bodies in the hope of realizing their dreams? And how will we recover the innocence, the awe and wonder of each accomplishment, and the loyalty among fans that took generations to build?

PNS contributor Pueng Vongs is an editor for New California Media, an association of over 600 print, broadcast and online ethnic media organizations founded in 1996 by Pacific News Service and members of ethnic media.