Despite a rash of injuries—he’s played more than 140 games just twice this decade—numerous recent campaigns of Austin Kearnsian production, and defensible press musings about whether he’s just been hanging around long enough to limp past the hallowed 600-dinger mark, the Kid is legit. The only time his name has been mentioned in the steroids snafu was when Barry Bonds allegedly (yeah, right) told Griffey of his plans to start doping up in the late-1990s.
Junior has always been juice free, making him possibly the last bona fide member of the 600-homer club we’ll ever see other than ARod (steroid accusations pending) and maybe Manny (who, in the interest of “being Manny,” will probably hit 599 and then vanish like DB Cooper).
The Kid’s cleanliness also means that we’re in for some heavy-duty lionizing of him by the media. They’ll fall all over themselves lauding him for being everything Bonds, Sosa, and Big Mac were not, conveniently forgetting that despite his jaunty nicknames, Griffey has always been lukewarm to the fans, indifferent to his teammates, and surly with the press. As always in sports, big, round numbers, honestly attained, tend to make the jackassery fade.
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I am withholding my praise until I get the results from the impending DNA swab. Rumor has is they have cloned him. Sidebar: Bernie Mac is absolutely depressed that all talks have broken down for the future release of Mr. 600.
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