Are We Allowed to Be Impressed?

You know you should be enjoying this for what it is. I mean. This is fantastic. This guy is 38 years old. His whole career was clear in the discard pile. And there is no rarer thing in life than a man who suddenly changes your opinion of him for the better. But your conscience nags at you. You sit in the couch, idle on your laptop. It's already the ninth inning. They're not even going to bring Mariano Rivera into this. You remember that when you were younger you got sucked into things. And you look up clips of that home-run race.

It was so obvious, you think now. Sosa and McGwire could barely fit all four of their arms into the same room for an interview they were so jacked. But back then it just seemed liked hard work. Darryl Strawberry just did cocaine, these guys did weightlifting. And Bonds. The lesson was obvious. Hard-work, discipline, preparation: and you could get ripped and stay in your peak years into your late thirties. That was awesome. 40 was the new 25. Bob Dole taught you that 72 was the new 17. Hard work, work hard. Hard bodies. Hard records. Soft-testing regimes. Soft-minds. Soft-voices in press conferences.

And for once MLB seems as skeptical as you are. They want to know more about this miracle doctor too.

Is this Tommy John surgery? A genuine medical breakthrough that seems to improve ailing pitchers, one created by the demands of egotistical athletes, franchised sports and money. Or is it a performance-enhancer, something that if it isn't banned or illegal, well, it should be.

They're testing. They've got to be. They're ordering up cups of Jose Bautista's urine like it is last call, right? We can just marvel at these accomplishments. We can even occasionally be inspired by them, draw analogies from their work ethic and ingenuity to our own lives. Right?

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