While the baseball world waits on pins and needles and dirty syringes—when did people start saving out gross things instead of dumping them off the Jersey Shore anyway?—for the latest on Roger Clemens and the baseball drug scandal did some reading. I found an excellent book on the subject of drug use in baseball: Ball Four. Written in 1970, the book, which when it came out was more famous for Mickey Mantle’s drinking and beaver-shooting exploits, shows how amphetamines—a.k.a. greenies--were available and used freely.
For anyone who was shocked, shocked to find drug use in baseball, Ball Four is a revelation, and after 38 years it holds up well (unlike say Tim McCarver’s The Perfect Season, about the 1998 season, and the juicy performances of Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa et al.)
Bouton expresses doubts about the effectiveness of greenies, but no one in the book denies their popularity. Everyone knew about them. Everyone may not have tried them, but references to the drugs are plentiful and surprisingly casual. Perhaps this is a reflection of the era, in which a Dr. Feelgood—not the British rock group but Max Jacobson, pusher to the stars—was prescribing so-called vitamin injections for the rich and famous of New York’s Upper East Side. Legal drugs were okay.
Still, as some people claim about HGH and steroids, there is no proof that amphetamines help anyone perform better. In fact, the only player who performed especially well while under the influence of drugs was Dock Ellis, who on June 12, 1970 no-hit the San Diego Padres while admittedly tripping on acid. Oddly enough tripping on the mound never caught on.
One of the more interesting observations in Ball Four is that Mel Stottlemyre—as straight an arrow as ever wore pinstripes—got his nickname Greenie because he was always keeping the jar in greenies in the clubhouse filled. Popular belief was that be got it because he was signed by superscout Tom Greenwade. The point is certainly not to smear Stottlemyre, but to point out how open and free ballplayers were about drug use.
But the most telling statement in the book about the drug culture in baseball is on page 44 of the 1971 paperback edition:
“If you had a pill that would guarantee a pitcher 20 wins but take five years off his life, he’d take it.”
That still speaks volumes. It seems the culture has not changed, just the chemistry.
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Comments on this entry:
"Perhaps this is a reflection of the era, in which a Dr. Feelgood—not the British rock group but Max Jacobson, pusher to the stars—was prescribing so-called vitamin injections for the rich and famous of New York’s Upper East Side. Legal drugs were okay."
Of course, the constraints of legality were not necessarily a primary concern in deciding what was "okay", as this blurb on one of your covers will attest:
http://cyber.playboy.com/members/magazine/covers/1978/09/
Incidentally, in order to capitalize on the success of "Ball Four", Jim Bouton wrote (or, as he admitted, had ghostwritten for him) "I Managed Good But Boy Did They Play Bad" - published by Playboy Press in 1973. His candor in admitting his limited involvement in the Playboy project gives credence to his truthfulness in what he reported in "Ball Four".
I think the fact that Bouton wasn't sued--at least not to my knowledge--speaks volumes as to his truthfulness. After the Mitchell Report came out, I emailed him several times, and while he couldn't be inteviewed for the item, he was very direct in his answers. I think that directness, while appealing to me, has probably kept him off Centerstage and every other Yes Network show.