Roids - does a body good

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Saturday, October 13, 2007.

So Marion Jones lost her gold. Girl was juicin'. Barry Bonds has the creme and the clear. That disgusting roided out WWE "wrestler" killed his family and himself recently. It's all about the roids, baby. Some professional sports commentator wrote a very thoughtful piece on the meaning of fair play when these steroid stories all began to break. He waxed philosophically that one of the reasons people love sports so much is because professional athletes are a more perfect version of ourselves. We like that we are able to look at someone and say, "With enough training, dedication, and some good genes, I could do that too." (Just watch the movie Gattaca and tell me you don't get a little fire in your belly.) When something illegal and unnatural is thrown into the mix, the fantasy is tarnished. It's no longer Rocky doing pull ups in a barn and running up a steep mountain to train, it's the Russian in the lab getting injected. ( Rocky IV--check it.) That commentator had a sad conclusion, though. He suggested that we have progressed as a society to point where we (1) expect the superhuman performance of these superhuman athletes and (2) have almost come to expect that they're going to cheat, so why care? It would be hard to go back now.

The commentator wrote with a sense of sadness that we have come to this point. But isn't this really just the natural endpoint of all quests for perfection in a particular discipline? It's funny, law firms give presentations on "work-life balance" and how attorneys need to make time for exercise, family, and friends... and then slam you with work. Few bosses, few sports fans, few art lovers care if their subordinate/athlete/artist has a happy family life. The world's greatest thinkers and inventors have all been dedicated lunatics. Edison invented the light bulb because he only slept a few hours each night, believing that sleep was a waste of time. Passionate artists throw themselves into their work and forget to eat. So why not pump our athletes full of steroids and watch them compete for TV time and endorsements? It's the modern day equivalent of Roman gladiator battles, except that armchair sports fans are the Roman emperors calling the shots each time they tune in, buy a jersey, or attend the stadium. The best of the best have always forsaken life, limb, and relationships to BE the best of the best. Why stop them now? So to Marion, Barry, and dead WWE guy I say: Shoot up! Entertain me!