I grew up with what I thought was one of the best role models ever. I had every product this player endorsed, including a self-made tower of Pepsi cans that featured his face. I had all of his baseball cards, his jersey, dolls and figurines, posters and cereal boxes. My then California room even featured a giant life-size cardboard cutout of this celeb. I was seven and I was obsessed.
Little did I know this athlete was taking steroids, attempting suicide and beating his wife. But I was young and naíve. Everyone thought this Oakland A's standout was the cream of the crop. He was young, talented and good-looking.
He helped the Oakland A's win the World Series in 1989 and the New York Yankees win in 2000. He was named Rookie of the Year in 1986 and received the League's MVP award in 1988. He was the first player ever to hit 40 home runs and have 40 stolen bases in one year and also was the first player to hit a grand slam in his first World Series appearance.
And I remember it all. If I wasn't there to witness it, I was watching it at home with my father.
This player also made up half of the two-man duo known as the "bash brothers." The twosome's picture once graced the cover of an Oreos box — among other products that I also had. In the late 80s, this baseball phenom was everywhere.
Who am I talking about? Why, none other than the "Juice" himself, Jose Canseco — the man who claims responsibility for bringing steroids into Major League Baseball.
How could I have let this junkie become my first inspirational hero? Yes, he did, in a way, help motivate my tee-ball game and no one knew at the time he was infecting baseball, but Canseco was my role model. It's almost embarrassing to admit.
Even more embarrassing, from a former fan's perspective, was watching him for the last month on VH1's "Surreal Life." Did anyone catch the episode of Mr. 40-40 parading around in female lingerie? Nice pecs Canseco!
When he wasn't trying to break up fights between Omarossa and Janis Dickenson, it was obvious that Canseco was on the show for the sole purpose of promoting his telling all book, "Juiced."
In this book, Canseco not only admits to using steroids himself — even though he had previously failed a drug test — but also pointed the finger at some of baseball's finest, accusing them of tainting the league.
My favorite tale from the book (I have skimmed it) was Canseco alleging Mark McGwire and himself used to squeeze into a bathroom stall and inject each other with steroids. Could you imagine two men, both above 6-foot-4, squeezing into a tiny bathroom for the sole purpose of doping up? I wonder what else the two "bash brothers" did in there.
According to Canseco, his injuries forced him to take steroids; otherwise he could not play in the MLB.
But Canseco's book did have some reason behind it. Since coming out in the bulk of the BALCO scandal, his book has helped shine a new light on America's pastime. He was the first to accuse Rafael Palmeiro.
Steroids have ruined baseball and Canseco has ruined the idea of a role model.
Don't get me wrong; there are a lot of positive role models out there. Take a look at Tiger Woods, Venus or Serena Williams, Peyton Manning and Derek Jeter — all fine role models and very talented athletes.
It's hard for an athlete to remain flawless in the public eye, but no one is perfect, right?
I remember every single athlete who made an attempt to say hi to me or to simply come and speak to our team. They may not have realized it, but it's the little things that can make a difference in someone's life.
This summer, 2004 Olympic Gold Medalist Carly Piper spoke through a telephone to a group of young Tennessee swimmers. She only talked for two minutes, but during that brief time she made an impact and those swimmers talked about her all summer.
If only Canseco would have chosen the right path. Maybe he wouldn't have led the league in home runs, or have won a World Series, but he still would have remained a role model in one columnist's eye.
