Why Do I Hate Rafael Palmeiro? Let Us Count the Ways

Rafael Palmeiro used to be – until this week – one of my favorite baseball players. He never had the biggest salary, the biggest mouth, the biggest ego or the biggest bat on the many teams he played. He just showed up every day and did his job better than almost anyone else.

He never hogged the media spotlight. He never asked for any big demands and he almost never put up the biggest numbers. He just quietly and effectively produced for 19 seasons and soon became one of the league’s respected elder statesmen, amassing 3,000 hits, 569 homers and four All-Star appearances.

What finally made him a household name to non-baseball fans was his testimony before Congress on the anti-steroid hearings last winter. While other players like Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa came off worse for the wear with evasive answers, Palmeiro was a model of credibility: “I have never used steroids. Period. I don't know how to say it any more clearly than that. Never.”

Well, we all know what happened this week. And now we can substitute new words to describe this so-called athlete: Phony. Stupid. Cheater. Busted. And those are the polite ones. Palmeiro must think we’re as dumb as he is with his lame “I don’t know where the steroid came from!” excuse. While not as creative as “Barry Bonds spiked my Viagra,” most people are aware of everything that enters their body.

There’s always a domino effect when big athletes are caught with their hands in the stanozolol jar. Sure, Palmeiro will lose a whopping 10 days pay. He will now be better known for this charade no matter what his final hit or home run total will be. Yes, he may not get into the Hall of Fame now. But there are additional punishments in store.

First, from this day forward I will refer to Rafael Palmeiro as “Raffi,” because his crybaby excuses remind me of the unbelievably annoying Raffi who sings for children. If you do not have small children, you have been spared a five-year prison term of listening to music that makes Clay Aiken sound hardcore.

Second, and most unforgivably, Raffi has made Jose Canseco into a respectable, honorable person. Canseco, the classic kid who tells on the kid who doesn’t do his homework, is bizarrely redeemed through this whole sorry affair. His claim of injecting Raffi and others with steroids now holds water, and he’s been transformed from clubhouse rat to courageous whistleblower. In a sleazy side note, Canseco’s ex-wife bares more in next month’s Playboy.

Raffi may have taken the heat off his fellow baseheads Jason Giambi and the other players caught under the new steroid rules, and I’ve still got my eye on Barry Bonds. But here’s hoping he’s hauled back before Congress to explain why he lied under oath. His magnificent performance in Washington last March has now replaced Pete Rose’s “I never bet on baseball” as the biggest lie to cripple a sport that’s already weak in the knees.