Kevin Frandsen has been suspended 50 games for violating baseball’s substance abuse policy. You can read more about the specifics
here in the SJ Merc.
You remember Kevin, right? Bay Area kid, played at San Jose State, drafted by the Giants in 2004. He was one of the few who actually get an opportunity to play for the team they grew up rooting for. He was local, personable, hustled, and was quickly embraced by Giants fans. He even had his own fanclub, “Klub Kevin,” which as best as we can tell was two 19-year old girls, but still. They had
their own myspace page and everything.
But even at his best, he was a borderline big leaguer. His 296 plate appearances in 2007 were a career high, seeing time at second, third, short, left, and right. He hit 5 homers that year, and had a slash line of .269/.331/.379. In 2008 he missed almost the whole season with an injury, then in 2009 went in to Spring Training as the favorite to win the second base job. He lost it to Emmanuel Burriss (who lost it to Juan Uribe, and then Freddy Sanchez). During Spring of 2010, he was traded to the Boston Red Sox in exchange for a bag of balls and an autographed picture of Carlos Quintana. They placed him on waivers at the end of April, and he was picked up by the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, where he appeared in 54 games as a utility infielder. They let him walk after the season ended, he spent Spring 2011 with the Padres, who let him go before they broke camp, and he signed on with the Phillies organization, most recently playing all over the infield for the
AAA Lehigh Valley IronPigs.
And now Frandsen has tested positive for Ritalinic acid, which is a banned substance under the “Minor League Drug Prevention and Treatment Program. “ Unless you have a prescription, which some players do. Ritalinic acid is a medication intended to treat ADHD. From other things I’ve read, there has been a dramatic increase in the number of players diagnosed with that particular affliction since this loophole opened. Of course some players, like Andres Torres, had already been diagnosed with ADHD and credit the medication with truly making a difference in their ability to focus, which I suppose is kind of important when you’re trying to distinguish between a 95 mile an hour fastball and an 80 mile an hour changeup. Beyond that, I don’t know what other advantage such a medication is supposed to create for a ballplayer, but clearly someone thinks it creates an unfair advantage and it is, clearly, against the rules. As someone diagnosed with ADHD (in my 30’s, to the surprise of no one), I have been on a couple of different medications, but I’m pretty sure none of them would have made me terribly effective standing in against Ubaldo Jimenez. Or even Ted Lilly.
The bottom line is that Frandsen was looking for an edge. The last time I “laced ‘em up” was in fourth grade little league (
LMYA! ), so it’s hard for me to even imagine what it’s like to be the best player in your high school, excel in a division 1 college program, continue to have reasonable success through the minor leagues, and then not quite be good enough to stick in the majors. That has to be something a competitive guy is going to fight as long and as hard as he can. While I think spending 30 years coaching baseball at a Community College sounds like a charmed life, it may well sound like embracing failure to someone who is SO CLOSE to their dream of major league glory.
Probably the best, most honest thing I’ve ever heard a ballplayer say about performance enhancing drugs was in an interview with Padre Hall Of Famer Tony Gwynn, towards the end of his career. I think it was Bob Costas interviewing him, but I might be wrong about that. Gwynn was asked if he ever used steroids, and he said (something like) “I didn’t have to. “ He went on to explain that he had the physical and mental abilities to thrive in the big leagues, so it was never really a temptation for him. Then he said that he did not know what he would have done if he had been a fringe player. A borderline player. Somebody almost good enough to stick in the majors. If steroids had been the difference between San Diego and Tucson, $30,000 and $300,000 (or millions), he wasn’t sure he would have been able to resist the temptation to cheat. It would be hard to resist when you’re 22 and the majors are so close. I imagine it would be exponentially harder to resist when you’re 29, had a taste of big league life, and you see your window of opportunity rapidly closing. I’m not excusing the action, just saying that I understand some of what went into the decision Frandsen made.
And this is where I have a clear double standard. I have sympathy and forgiveness for Kevin Frandsen. And Armando Rios. And Marvin Benard. And Jeremy Giambi. And Juan Rincon. I get it. Like Tony Gwynn (the first and probably only time I’ll ever use that phrase in a sentence), I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been in their shoes. I’d like to think I would have just worked harder, but I’m a pretty big fan of shortcuts. While those players have been criticized and, in the more recent cases, penalized, I kind of get it.
Which is what absolutely infuriates me about Barry Bonds. And Sammy Sosa. And Mark McGwire. And Rafael Palmiero. And Roger Clemens. And Manny Ramirez. Each of those players had the talent to truly be an all-time great player without any performance being artificially enhanced. In fact, I think all of them probably would have had a legitimate shot at Cooperstown even if they hadn’t inflated their numbers and extended their careers through PED’s. Although I suppose that depends a little on when Big Mac and The Rocket started juicing.
Barry Bonds was on his way to becoming one of the 10 best players baseball has ever seen. Maybe top 5. He had 3 MVP awards before even the harshest critics think he started cheating. He would have been alone in the 400 homer, 400 stolen bases club, and may have gotten to 500+ in both categories. As he got older, he really did make some mechanical adjustments to his swing that helped him keep balls fair when he pulled them down the line, and his pitch selection was ridiculous. There are whole seasons where I don’t remember him checking his swing even once. He was surly and gruff and arrogant and had a sense of entitlement that I cannot stand. He was never my favorite player. I’m not even sure I could say I was a fan of his. But he was the best player on my favorite team for a long time. And that’s why it still infuriates me that he still felt like he had to get an edge. Now, sure, nobody will ever be able to quantify the extent to which PED’s made a difference in Barry’s game, or any of the other players who used them. Nobody knows how many juiced up pitchers Bonds faced in his career. Those are the reasons all the talk about asterisks and wiping the record book of their accomplishments cannot happen. But did those players, and many others, cheat to try to get an advantage? Yes they did.
Which brings us back to Kevin Frandsen. I don’t know if he has ADHD, “has” it, or just took the meds for whatever baseball-related aid they might provide. It doesn’t really matter. And I have zero objection to his being held to the letter of the law on this one. He did the crime, so he’ll do the time. Fair. But I don’t think he deserves the same scorn and alienation as those for whom the decision not to cheat should have been much easier.
And Kevin, if you’re looking for a good first base coach at that Junior College, well … I might be available.
