Papi – and the stink of the asterix

It was going to happen. The halo over the Red Sox clubhouse was sure to get tarnished.

Take one larger-than-life clutch slugger, humanize him with a nickname like “Big Papi”, canonize him as a Boston hero for breaking sport’s greatest curse, and then watch as he too goes down the doper drain with his former comrade in bats, Manny “Tranny” Ramirez, into doper ignominy.

They all dope. The cyclists. The swimmers. The underage gymnasts. The marathoners, the curlers, the badminton players. I say we embrace it, wrap our arms around, and adopt better living through chemistry.

Because until we do, we’re going to be dashing our naive hopes that someone, somewhere is truly a clean hero. So bring on Big Pharma and let’s see what science can do.

As my wife said this morning, “You said it yourself, Ted Williams probably would have doped too if he had the chance.”

But Yaz wouldn’t. Right?

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