By From the Archives

Published: January 11, 2008

The unit, which was announced Friday, will report directly to the commissioner’s office and “will have broad authority to conduct investigations,” commish Bud Selig mumbled in a prepared statement.
The formation of the investigations outfit was the suggestion of George Mitchell in his highly controversial report, which identified 88 major league players with possible connections to performance-enhancing drugs. Mitchell also suggested the leagues adopt a “tip line” system through which players or clubhouse workers can rat out those who violate league rules. Why no MLB employees were previously aware they could report those who violated the rules is beyond me, but maybe Mitchell knows something about establishing ultra-secure phone lines in MLB clubhouses we don’t.
Nothing else about the new investigations wing was specified, but it basically sounds kind of like what the Jedi Knights did for the senate in the Star Wars movies, Episodes I through III, just no lightsabers. And no Yoda.
Impressed by the new development, this writer is not.
For one thing, Selig’s statement offered one line that was almost comedic by its timing: “The department of investigations will have critically important responsibilities in protecting the integrity of our sport,” Bud said.
Protecting the game’s integrity? How about saving it? How about reclaiming it?
Baseball has always had tragically poor timing , but this move looks like a particularly poor grasp at straws, especially when it almost literally took an act of congress for MLB to do anything about the drug problem.
Steroids have been banned in baseball for more than a decade, although both the testing methods and punitive measures were so laughable it didn’t matter, at least not until the damage had been done and anyone with the right connections could get pumped up enough to dent baseballs and records which had stood for decades. Now, the top five of the home run list considered almost sacred (Aaron, Ruth, Mays, Frank Robinson, Killebrew, Reggie Jackson) has been infiltrated by the likes of Bonds, Sosa, Palmeiro and McGwire, all of whom have dirt on them as a result of the Mitchell Report or a previous positive test or allegation. By that reckoning, almost any power statistic - and in turn the only hall of fame that matters - will be soiled, hence the need for MLB’s own cops wing.
The trouble is, it’s hard to get into the spirit of the thing knowing how poor the timing is. It’s kind of like George A. Custer setting up a task force on the morning of Little Bighorn to determine wether the Sioux were really a threat.
Selig’s already tapped former New York cop Dan Mullin as the unit’s head and ex-FBI man George Hanna as the director of investigations, but for something like this a sort of “drug czar” is needed, sort of like President Bush’s idea of an intelligence kingpin (for whatever that’s worth). And there’s really only one man for the job.
Frederick Stanley McGriff.
Besides the obvious connection to law enforcement by his nickname, the Crime Dog is a perfect fit. Having retired in 2004, McGriff got to see the steroid era at what was probably its zenith. He played in some big parks, like SkyDome, Jack Murphy and Fulton County Stadium, so he must have been subject to the temptation to dope up, especially toward the end of his career as he approached 500 career homers (he finished with 493.)
Plus, as the man who endorsed Tom Emanski’s fielding instructional videos, McGriff knows all about defending things, so baseball’s honor should be no problem.
At a time of crisis, you go with your big guns, and Fred McGriff is the man for Selig’s new enforcement agency. If Selig really wants to clean up the game, he needs to bring in a cleanup hitter.