Ah ha. This might be why he's kind of low key...
Steroid Lugs Grab Midol, Manssieres and Clomid
By SELENA ROBERTS
Published: May 2, 2007
Any baseball lug on a steroid bender can remain in touch with his feminine side but still feel a tad self-conscious when encountering a Midol moment or when shopping for a manssiere in the “Seinfeld” catalog.
So there is Clomid, the wonder drug that mitigates the feminizing side effects brought on by steroid use. Call it a physical masking agent.
A player experiencing a testosterone dry spell while on steroids will probably want to kick-start nature’s pump once his doping cycle ends.
So there is Clomid, the miracle preserve of manville. It’s not just for female ovulation anymore.
The fertility drug is so popular among male dopers that the former Mets batboy Kirk Radomski kept a stash of Clomid in his pantry of steroid staples for the stars, a juicy cache that was seized when federal agents raided his Long Island home on Dec. 14, 2005.
Clomid is the Alfred Hitchcock of drugs, with its profile in at least one scene of every baseball steroid saga. It is everywhere: in the 2003 grand jury testimony of Barry Bonds and Jason Giambi as reported by The San Francisco Chronicle, on confiscated doping calendars from Balco, in the pages of “Game of Shadows,” on the World Anti-Doping Agency’s prohibited substance inventory.
It is everywhere but on the list of Major League Baseball’s banned substances — an indicator that baseball’s drug-testing policy remains deficient to the point of willful incompetence.
“Clomid is a red flag saying, ‘Hello, what’s wrong with this picture?’ ” said Dr. Gary I. Wadler, an associate professor of medicine at New York University and a member of the antidoping agency. “Why is a male taking this drug? In this context, there is no legitimate reason, only illegitimate.”
Baseball’s defense of its list is a fusion of oblivion and arrogance — or the Alec Baldwin rationale. Baseball’s executive vice president, Rob Manfred, in a voice outsized in exasperation for the scale of the topic, said M.L.B. doesn’t test for Clomid because the drug doesn’t interfere with urine integrity. True, but Clomid has gained infamy in Olympic testing as a routine flare to signal steroid use that flies just under the radar of detection.
In a transparent effort to trot out a spin strategy, Manfred tried to cast the raid of Radomski’s home as irrelevant to the credibility of baseball’s drug program because, as he said, it was “a number of years ago.”
It was 17 months ago — two months after the 2005 season, when baseball’s self-congratulatory program yielded 12 positive results, and one month after politicians embarrassed baseball into a really, truly vigilant system.
Now, here we are in Roid Redux, with another baseball bust, another hole poked in a doping program designed by passive baseball leaders and the union leader Don Fehr, serial obstructionist. Once again, baseball looks to be trying hard enough to keep John McCain from going Lou Piniella on them, but not enough to lose any commercial partners with roles for its stars.
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The incremental blueprint worked well until George Mitchell finally found someone to whisper into his ear: Radomski, baseball’s version of the Washington Madame. As a convicted steroid dealer, Radomski has made a deal to work with Mitchell’s investigation into the scope of baseball’s doping problem.
Maybe this is why baseball officials are so uptight: What if Mitchell not only exposes the union but also turns on his old pal, Commissioner Bud Selig, by delivering a report that blames everyone and reveals names.
And there are plenty of names, if redacted on affidavits. The feds possess the names and numbers of past and present major league clients. Dozens, authorities say. What does that mean? Maybe 48 or maybe 60?
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One steroid buyer was publicly connected to Balco. As The San Francisco Chronicle deduced yesterday, only four players who testified in the Balco case were still on the field in 2005: Giambi, Bonds, Gary Sheffield and Benito Santiago.
Imagine a player testifying about steroids in 2003, then being bold enough — or desperate enough — to purchase them again under baseball’s nose. It’s not so far-fetched given baseball’s aversion to putting a player face — or even a fertility drug’s name — on its doping policy.
“This is news,” Manfred said of the recent Radomski raid disclosures. “And it’s something new. And if in fact this is a red flag, we’ll be taking a look at this substance as we always do when something new comes to our attention.”
What’s new, though? In his 2003 grand jury testimony reported by The Chronicle, Giambi admitted taking Clomid. It was also described as being part of the Bonds steroid cocktail in “Game of Shadows.”
Clomid isn’t a trend, but an old standby.
“If you go through all the motions,” Wadler said of how meticulous WADA is in developing a prohibited list, “you would say, well, there is no way baseball wouldn’t have dealt with this problem of anti-estrogen drugs. This has been part and parcel of drugs since doping has been around practically.”
Clomid is a go-to drug for male steroid users. Unless a juiced athlete wants to morph from a baritone to a soprano, from pecs to a C-cup, there is always Clomid — a red flag to steroid abuse. If you want to see it.