OK, we've got this 25-year-old, a star athlete, a baseball pitcher who can throw 90 mph on a bad day, so he's been coddled his whole life. That's a given. Fawned over, praised, accorded the star treatment, already paid enough money that he can drive any car he wants, live in any house he wants, call his broker and buy all the stocks he wants . . .
. . . We allow him to enter baseball games to loud rock music, the louder the better, we never tell him to turn it down, we give him five months off every year but pay him every two weeks, we encourage him to be a mad dog athlete. When he runs full bore from the bullpen to the mound with Twisted Sister blaring, we stand and roar, we tell him he's a character, that baseball needs more characters. We tell him he's aggressive, that baseball needs more aggression.. . . When he plays in visiting ballparks and his aggression is met with jeers, taunts, insults and the occasional flying battery, we smile. Fans will be fans, smack talk is in, we say. You don't pay $50 for a ticket and then sit on your hands. Nothing wrong with talking a little trash . . .
. . . And then one day, this barely-turned-25-year-old talks back . . .
. . . And we tell John Rocker it would probably have been better if he'd never been born.
I'm guessing I'll get some opposition on this defense of John Loy Rocker.
It's been a month now since the pitcher for the Atlanta Braves was quoted in Sports Illustrated speaking frankly about various segments of the human race, including, but not restricted to, New Yorkers and bad drivers.
At the time, Rocker was known primarily only to baseball fans and those who personally watched him grow up in Macon, Ga.
In the four weeks since, he has become a household name, sliding into our collective consciousness somewhere between Hannibal Lecter and Mark Furhman.
His vilification has come from everywhere. Politicians, entertainers, the business world. He has been compared to Timothy McVeigh and the Unabomber. Twisted Sister went on record that they no longer want their music played when he enters ballgames. New York Mayor Rudy Guiliani said Rocker "needs help." Major League Baseball ordered a psychological examination and is pondering some kind of fine.
It's not that the things Rocker said weren't on the outrageous side, it's that the hammer of human opinion has fallen so swift and so hard on a monster of our own creation -- a 25-year-old we've spoiled since Little League.
Who are we indicting here, ourselves?
Why do we give such voice to a 25-year-old we exempted from college because he could throw heat, anyway?
Why does what he says carry about a million times more weight than the people in Shea who throw the batteries and shout the vile epithets from center field, than the people who exercise their free speech with their "Rockersucks.com" Web sites and call him a scumbag and a Neanderthal, and that's only the names we can print?
Why, in this out-of-control sports age of O.J. walking free and Rodman on Leno and Sprewell out on permanent bail and Strawberry gets his 17th chance and murder charges against wide receivers and illegitimate children all over the place do we get so hung up on somebody's quotes?
A month had gone by and I finally did it. I finally went to the Sports Illustrated Web site on the internet and read what John Rocker actually said.
After weeks of hearing about this anti-Christ from Georgia, I read the story written by Jeff Pearlman, who rode shotgun alongside the outrageous John Rocker for a day.
Pearlman got what he came for. A whole lot of benign trash talk. And then he printed it.
And we're saying John Rocker's the jerk?
Lee Benson's column runs Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Send e-mail to benson@desnews.com, fax 801-237-2527.