Welcome to Bannywood

As Alex Rodriguez sits on the precipice of 600, are we sufficiently wondering how many of his lifetime homers occurred while his performance was being enhanced? The real question is, if you were caught for a small portion of a larger crime, would you then confess to the entirety of it? Probably not.

The Steroid Era fell over baseball like the shroud of the Dark Side. The "Juiced Ball" theory provided years of disguise for what was really going on, until a fallen hero revealed the true nature of The Force. Whether Jose Canseco has truly brought balance back to the sport can be debated, but what can not be disputed is that he, whatever his motivations, has now achieved legendary whistle-blower status and has redeemed himself with the game.

Canseco's path to Cooperstown is non-existent. His crusade probably began with the realization that he had fallen short statistically to gain even serious consideration for the Hall of Fame. Now, having moved so many of baseball's brightest stars from under the spotlight to under the microscope, and in so doing admitting the fallacy of his own achievements, he has been exiled from the game. But the healing power of spite has taken effect; names that he named were re-named, the rules have been re-written and punishments have been levied.

Baseball has a culture of cheating. More specifically, of trying to get away with things. The hidden ball trick, deeking a baserunner, and who that has ever played an inning can deny that their team would be all over them (perhaps physically) if they admitted to dropping a ball that was called an out. Leo Durocher stole signs and Joe Niekro threw a nail file with the ump walking toward him like Steve Howe threw baggies out the passenger window after getting pulled over. Craig Nettles littered the infield with superballs and Sammy Sosa actually labeled his corked bat. Baseball players will always try to cheat, because if they don't get caught, they didn't really cheat. Major League Baseball must value Canseco's role by continuing to police players in its constant struggle for professional integrity.

In this pursuit of the truth, it gives me great pleasure to announce Alex Rodriguez, the first Bannywood inductee. A-Rod's career achievements are astounding. He is the youngest player to hit 500 HR, his $275 million dollar contract is the richest in baseball history, and he appears poised to challenge Barry Bonds' all-time best 762 and possibly even 800.

With Barry Bonds busted-knee-deep in steroid allegations, many fans viewed A-Rod as the player that would give us back a clean Home Run King, like Hank Aaron. Instead, his confession in 2009 forces us to question Alex the same way we question Barry, and leaves us with a soon-to-be Home Run King that will replace Aaron as much as Bonds did.

In addition to some misplaced hardware (Frank Thomas' 2000 MVP trophy is in Jason Giambi's case, and who can say how many World Series winners have been juiced?), we must also conceive a new statistic: The PEHR (Performance-Enhanced Home Run). Having admitted to steroid use from 2001-2003, A-Rod has discounted 156 of his lifetime bombs, including a career high 57 in his roided-out 2002 campaign. This puts A-Rod at a maximum of 443 lifetime HR, and leaves us in a position to question how many of those were legit.

Welcome to Bannywood, Alex Rodriguez. You will never get my Hall of Fame vote.

Home Runs (All-Time)

Hank Aaron 755
Babe Ruth 714
Willie Mays 660
Ken Griffey, Jr. 630
Frank Robinson 586