"Field of Dreams" will always be one of my favorite movies, but I'm not sure how anyone can be a fan of professional baseball in this day and age.
You know what Babe Ruth used to do before a game? Drink a beer and eat a goddamn hot dog.
That would be unheard of today. Athletes have their diets planned for them and their bodies sculpted by personal trainers. And, for players today, a more common fortification than beer is human growth hormones.
Where's the humanity?
Athletes are scouted from regions far removed from the area they eventually represent, and millions of dollars are poured into the cultivation of their skills.
Now Alex Rodriguez, widely regarded as the most talented player in baseball, has joined the ranks of Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens as outed steroid users.
Never again will there be a moment in baseball like The Shot Heard Around the World, a moment in which a genuine home run, a genuine feat of athleticism and grace (a line-drive hit in the Polo Grounds, about 500 feet) changes the course of history or - even partially - defines an era. The professional athlete is not a hero but a commodity. Sometimes, in this era of fervent drug abuse, he is an embarrassment.
Home run records seem to be broken, or almost broken, every season now. How could they not be, with the way the league facilitates it? Ratings are everything. Baseball doesn't have the pull it used to, so what better way to get people to watch than to pull in the fences and allow for some more action?
There's a military-industrial complex in baseball now. Franchises pour increasing amounts of funds into building the best teams they can. Where's the sport of it? It's all about resources.
How can someone truly love a team? Do the players represent them? Are their accomplishments the result of drugs or their own skill? Are they playing for the love of the game or for an exorbitant salary?
Put simply, would you rather have a hero than can hit a homer with a few beers in him, or would you rather have one that can only do it after devouring a bunch of testosterone?
Everyone in the latter category should be pushed into a corn vortex and never heard from again. Bottom line.
Allie Conti is an English and journalism sophomore.
