Hey everyone,

Over the past few days, I've received a LOT of email from you guys about
Jose. Most of you are sad he retired, a lot of you hope it isn't really
over, some of you are mad because you think he's being blackballed, but the
one theme that is consistent through all the emails is your support of Jose
Canseco. You (we) are all Jose Canseco fans, and most of us have been for
as long as we can remember. Some of the emails you guys have sent in have
been very thoughtful, and I think Jose should see your words of
encouragement and understanding.

So, here's what I'm going to do... Sometime in the next week, I am going to
set up a special email address so you can send a personal message to
Jose. I'll combine all the messages I get and post them on my web site for
everyone to see (like I did with the Get Well wishes in 1999 -
http://www.canseconet.com/getwell.htm ), and I'll also do my best to make
sure Jose gets a hard copy of all the messages. I can't guarantee that he
will get them or that he will ever read them even if he does, but I'll do
my best... And for the record, I DO think Jose will read them. It's not
like he has anything better to do this summer, right? :)

DO NOT send in your messages yet. I'm going to set up a special email
address for them soon. I just wanted to let you know now, so you can start
thinking about what you'd like to write. And remember, there are about
1500 people reading this email right now, so the shorter your message will
be, the better. I know if I was Jose, I'd be more likely to actually read
the short messages than the novels.

Again, DO NOT send in your messages for Jose yet. Take a few days, think
about what you'd like to say, and I'll let you know when/where to send them
soon.

Below are some more (great) articles about Jose's retirement and a bunch of
speculation on if he will get into the Hall of Fame or not... Personally,
as it stands right now, I don't think he'll make it. I think he should, of
course, but I don't think he will - kind of like how I think he should be
playing for a major league team right now, but he isn't.

-Mark

P.S. Oh, one more thing. My site was reviewed in a Pittsburgh newspaper
today (see the first story below). While I don't disagree with the review,
I do wish he had mentioned this email list. I know parts of my site has
gotten a bit outdated (I just don't have the time to keep up with it any
more), but I do my best to stay on top of this list for you guys... Anyway,
there is an email address you can use if you'd like to send him your
comments about Jose or my site. If you're in the mood, feel free...

==========
From the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette:
Caught on the Web: www.canseconet.com
Wednesday, May 15, 2002

This week, Our WebMaster, Seth Rorabaugh, scrolls through a site dedicated
All That! which made the late 1980s such a totally awesome time, dude:
Aliens on TV, untied high-tops and the rappers who wore them, metal bands
and that Boy Toy who swung for the fences in Oakland. Party on ...

This week's web site
http://www.canseconet.com/

What It Is

A Web site dedicated to an individual who was pretty much "The Man" from
1986-1991, Jose Canseco.

Why Visit?

Canseco, who came to symbolize the late 1980s as much as ALF and Run DMC,
announced his retirement Monday, ending a career that bore witness to some
good baseball, as well as some interesting moments on and off the field.

While Canseco might best remembered by baseball fans as the first player to
hit 40 home runs and steal 40 bases in the same season, he is more famous
around the world as one of Madonna's many beaus.

Many people remember his many moon shots, such as the one he sent into
Skydome's upper deck in the 1989 American League Championship Series.
However, so many more people will remember him for his cup of coffee with
the Texas Rangers, in which he allowed a fly ball to careen off his noggin
and bounce over the wall for a home run, and his pitching "career" -- 1
inning, 3 earned runs, two hits, an ERA of 27.00 and a blown-out elbow.

He was almost like a sports version of Dudley Moore or Robert Downey Jr. in
the respect that he hasn't made many waves recently but still is one of
those icons of pop culture who had immense talent and plenty of baggage.
Plus, he had a mullet.

What's There?

When you initially log on to the site, a montage of the one-time Topps
All-Star Rookie greets you, showing Canseco in the six uniforms he wore in
the major leagues before his stint with the White Sox last season -- the
Athletics, Rangers, Red Sox, Athletics (again), Blue Jays, Devil Rays and
Yankees. Canseco was a non-roster invitee with the Expos in spring training
this season but did not make the final roster.

Also available is a checklist of Canseco cards and game programs, a photo
gallery, audio and video clips, e-mail postcards, home run contests where
participants attempted to predict Conseco's totals, a collection of
memories from various fans, as well as links to other sites related to him.

Upon Further Review

A little of the information is dated, but if you're looking for information
on Canseco, you probably don't have a single CD in your possession that was
released past 1993, anyway. The absence of any mention of his brother,
Ozzie, is a huge disappointment as well.

Overall

A very neat, clean look for what is basically a fan site. For all you still
hanging on to Guns n' Roses debut CD, "Appetite for Destruction," this is a
site to visit.

Score

3 out of 5.

Your Say

Want to get your name in the paper? Well this is your lucky day. In pursuit
of an easy way to fill up space, we invite you to visit the sites profiled
here and offer your opinion. We also accept and encourage submissions
because we don't like to do our own work from time to time. Criticism is
also accepted, just not very well. Send e-mail to srorabaugh@....

==========
From the Chicago Sun:
Canseco gives up the chase
May 14, 2002
BY TONI GINNETTI

The hot-tempered, car-crashing, headline-grabbing player that once was Jose
Canseco never showed up at Comiskey Park last season. A friendly,
easy-talking team player had taken his place.

It was that Canseco, not the Bash Brother of colossal home runs and
confounding off-field controversy, who endeared himself to the White Sox
and their fans. And it was that Canseco whom general manager Ken Williams
wanted to thank when he signed him last month to a minor-league contract
for one more shot at a burning goal: 500 home runs and a chance at the Hall
of Fame.

But Canseco, 37, retired Monday, 38 homers shy of his goal, after
struggling at Class AAA Charlotte.

''Jose felt that because of personal reasons and a strong desire to spend
more quality time with his young daughter, it was time to announce his
retirement,'' Alan Nero, Canseco's agent, said in a statement released by
the Sox.

Canseco was hitting .172 for the Knights with five homers and nine RBI in
18 games. His coaches and teammates were saddened but not surprised by his
decision.

"He was a very professional man that everyone looked up to,'' manager Nick
Capra said. "I'm happy it was his own decision, but at the same time, this
is sad for baseball.''

Catcher Josh Paul said Canseco was a good mentor.

"I loved being around the guy,'' Paul said. "He and I would talk during
batting practice, before games and after games. Just the other day, he was
telling me: 'I've gone 0-for-40 and also hit 10 home runs in a week. So
always try to keep your head right in the middle.'''

That wasn't always Canseco's style. He slugged his way into the record
books with the Oakland Athletics powerhouses of the late 1980s, teaming
with Mark McGwire as the most potent long-ball duo in the game. But
Canseco's off-field life often drew equal attention, between altercations
with his first wife, reckless driving habits, a gun-related arrest and a
brief courtship with rock diva Madonna.

A mellower Canseco signed with the Sox last season after Frank Thomas
suffered a season-ending triceps injury. Perhaps humbled by a stint with
the independent minor-league Newark Bears, Canseco loved talking about his
daughter or bantering with the press about his sure-handed--in his mind, at
least--outfielder's glove.

He hit .258 with 16 homers and 49 RBI in 76 games for the Sox.

"He didn't come with an ego. He carried himself and performed well,''
Williams said last month before re-signing Canseco, who was released in
spring training by the Montreal Expos.

Canseco ends his career with 462 homers, 22nd on the all-time list. The
first player to hit 40 homers and steal 40 bases in the same season, he's
one of only nine players in history with 400 homers and 200 steals.

He was American League Rookie of the Year in 1986, and his 40-40 season in
1988 earned him MVP honors. He led the A's to the first of three straight
AL pennants that season, and they won the World Series in 1989.

But the six-time All-Star's career was hampered by injuries. He blew out
his elbow in 1993 and needed reconstructive surgery. He spent time on the
disabled list in five of the last seven seasons.

==========
From Fox Sports:

..."He's one of the most significant Latin guys that there were in the
game," Roberto Alomar said. "It's sad to see a guy like that go, but on the
other hand, he did the best he could for the game and I wish him well."...

==========
From the St. Petersburg Times:
Canseco's exit is far too quiet
By GARY SHELTON
May 15, 2002

He would stand at the plate, a hero out of mythology, and you could not
look elsewhere.

Even during batting practice, you had to watch. His face would twitch, and
he would tug at his sleeve, and adjust his elbow pad. Then he would lean
over, the cartoon-sized muscles coiled for attack.

His swing was ferocious, and when he missed, there was a ripping noise that
threatened the sound barrier. When he connected, the sound was clean and
sharp and the ball would soar impossible distances, almost fading from
sight before it began to fall.

That was when Jose Canseco would turn around and wink.

"I didn't quite get all of that one," he would announce to everyone watching.

For Canseco, that was a standard line. If you listened to Jose, he never
got all of a baseball, no matter how far it went.

Now he is gone, and the sadness is this:

Baseball never quite got all of Jose, either.

He could have been a legend. He should have been. Canseco was one of those
players blessed by the heavens. He had that uncommon blend of power and
speed. Someone that big should not be able to run that fast; someone that
fast should not be that strong.

Given that, he should have been immortal. He should have had Mickey
Mantle's career, or at least, Mark McGwire's.

It's hard to remember Canseco the younger now. It's hard to remember what a
great player he was before he turned into a half-dimensional hitter who
hopped from one franchise to another in search of at-bats.

He went from one cap to another, from one city to another, seeking the
absolution that his 500th home run promised. It backfired. Every time a
team allowed him to go, it pronounced him no longer the player he had been,
and his greatness would fade a little more.

As Canseco heads toward the exit, the question is how people will remember
him. As the flaming star of his youth? Or as the vagabond slugger trying to
hang around at the end?

Sadly, you know the answer. In all likelihood, the Hall of Fame closed its
doors to Canseco with his retirement. If he had reached 500 home runs, he
probably would have gotten in eventually. Everyone else has. Five hundred
would have made you remember his MVP, his 40-40 season, his dominance with
the A's.

Not now. There have been too many seasons of mediocrity since his
greatness. There have been too many bus stops in Texas and Boston and
Toronto and Tampa Bay and New York and Montreal and Chicago.

Oh, what Canseco could have been. If only his back hadn't given out. If
only he hadn't overbuilt his muscles to the point they worked against him.
If only he could have tamed some of the wildness of his youth. If only he
could have remained a player who could hurt you when he didn't hit it over
the fence. If only it were still 1991.

He was something to see back then. No one was more electric than Canseco.
He had an actor's smile and a comic book hero's body and a Hall of Famer's
ability. You didn't have to be Madonna to appreciate Canseco, though, it
has been noted, she was among the crowd.

What numbers could he have had? Six hundred home runs? Two hundred and
fifty stolen bases? Let your imagination run wild. We'll never know, the
same as we will never know how much Canseco's love of being bigger and
stronger may have played in his decline.

It bears remembering that by the time Canseco reached Tampa Bay, he was a
shell of what he had been. And his half-season of '99 is still more
memorable than any full season any Ray has had. The Rays picked him up as a
bargain and squeezed the last drops of his greatness. Canseco hit 31 home
runs by the All-Star break, and if he had stayed healthy, he might have hit
60.

"Wade Boggs and Fred McGriff gave us a presence," general manager Chuck
Lamar said. "But Jose brought more electricity here than any player we've
had. Power and speed are the most exciting combination in our game. It's
safe to say that if Jose had been injury-free, he'd be in the top five of
players who have both."

Canseco was also a delight to be around. He is a bright, self-effacing,
funny man. He'd joke about how unnecessary his glove was. You couldn't help
but like him.

I remember leaning next to him on the dugout rail one afternoon, talking
about Hispanics in baseball, and suddenly, he was talking about ways to add
pizazz to the game. He talked about cheerleaders and bases that lit up when
you touched them and batters painting their faces like pro wrestlers. He
talked about orange baseballs, which would make a home run count for two or
three runs instead of just one. He talked about giving more runs for long
home runs than those that barely clear the fence.

Deep down, however, Canseco loved the game. And he missed being a star.

To the last days, Canseco believed. Canseco always believed. He believed
his body was going to be just fine, and he'd still crank out 40 or 50 home
runs in a season. He was incredulous no one else saw the same. Two weeks
ago, he told the Miami Herald he felt he was being blackballed.

By then, however, it was hard to blame a team for taking a pass on Canseco.
A general manager never knew how many games Canseco was going to be in the
dugout and how many he was going to be in the training room.

In the end, we'll all remember Canseco as a guy who entered loudly and left
quietly.

A shame. With his ability, it should have been the other way around.

==========
From CNN/SI:
Jose Canseco -- Hall of Famer?

Not likely, we're afraid, no matter how you crunch the numbers.

On Canseco's plus side -- and when Jose had it going, in the late '80s into
the mid '90s, few had bigger pluses -- are the home runs. He had 462 of
them in a 17-year career. The homers, in fact, are the biggest bullet point
on his baseball resume.

There are only 22 people in baseball history who have hit more home runs
than Canseco. Two of them, Barry Bonds and Sammy Sosa, are still active.
Another, Mark McGwire, just retired. Another, Eddie Murray, will not be
eligible for Hall of Fame consideration until 2003.

Everyone else ahead of Canseco on the list is in the Hall of Fame.

But you have to draw the line somewhere.

It's clear that if Canseco had avoided the injuries that ruined much of his
career he would have reached 500 homers and he would have climbed far
enough up the charts to be a practical no-brainer inductee. He did win a
World Series (in 1989). He was a Rookie of the Year (1986) and a Most
Valuable Player (1988). He was the first 40-40 man in baseball (homers and
stolen bases in the same season, in '88), though that odd statistic holds
considerably less weight in the current state of baseball. He is one of
only nine men who have hit 400 homers and stolen 200 bases. St. Louis
manager Tony La Russa calls Canseco "the most complete athlete I've ever
managed."

But Canseco's .266 career average is not good, even among sluggers. Among
those home run hitters already in, only Harmon Killebrew and Reggie Jackson
have lower averages, and they both have at least 100 more homers than Canseco.

Canseco had 1,407 RBIs, too. That's the fewest of anyone ahead of him on
the home run list except Sosa, who is 144 behind. (A quick note: McGwire
has only seven more RBIs than Canseco and a lower batting average, though
he does have 121 more dingers. McGwire is eligible for consideration in 2007.)

Canseco was a defensive liability for much of his career. He hit better
than .300 only twice. And he struck out a ton. Of those 22 homer hitters
ahead of Canseco, only Jackson struck out more.

At the height of his power, Canseco was one of the most dangerous players
ever to wield a bat. His home runs were prodigious. His whole aura -- the
fast cars, the fast personal life, the fast-twitch muscles at bat, the
bulging biceps, the pure talent on the field -- screamed superstar.

But it didn't scream long enough, or loud enough, for the Hall of Fame.

==========
From USA Today:
Canseco's retirement stirs Hall debate
By Mel Antonen

In 2007, Mark McGwire, Tony Gwynn and Cal Ripken will be inducted into
baseball's Hall of Fame. The question: Will newly retired Jose Canseco ever
join them in Cooperstown?

Canseco, 37, is borderline.

He was the first to have at least 40 home runs and 40 steals in the same
season. He has an MVP award, 462 home runs, 1,407 RBI, 200 steals and two
World Series championship rings.

But he also was a journeyman DH with injury problems and a .266 average.
Eight Hall of Famers have hit less and gotten in, thanks to strong defense.

Canseco's case will test what voters from the Baseball Writers Association
of America think of players who were DHs most of their careers in an era
when the Hall of Fame standards for career home runs might jump from the
traditional total of 500.

"You can make a case, but the dramatic upsurge in home runs is going to
make his home run total less and less impressive as he gets closer to his
year of eligibility," says voter Pete Schmuck of The Sun in Baltimore.

"I'd be surprised if he gets in on the first ballot, but I wouldn't be
surprised if he gets in eventually."

Voter John Hickey of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer says his first
inclination is to not vote for Canseco, but that might not always be the
case.

"At some point, I could see changing my mind," says Hickey, who covered
Canseco when he played for the Oakland Athletics. "He was not a great
player long enough. That's the essence."

Canseco's best years came in Oakland. He was the AL's top rookie in 1986
and the AL's unanimous MVP pick in 1988. He won two home run titles.

But after 1992 there was only one season, 1998 with the Toronto Blue Jays,
where he had more than 100 RBI.

"The last 10 years people have been laughing at him," says voter Bruce
Jenkins of the San Francisco Chronicle. "Hall of Famers are not the object
of scorn."

How Canseco compares

Jose Canseco finished his 17-year career with 462 home runs, 38 shy of 500,
a .266 career average and 1,407 RBI. By the time he's eligible for the Hall
of Fame, his numbers might not look as impressive. Active players, with
numbers as of May 14, 2002, who have time to improve their statistics.

Player Age Avg. HR RBI
Barry Bonds 37 .292 580 1,565
Sammy Sosa 33 .279 465 1,262
Ken Griffey Jr. 32 .296 461 1,338
Rafael Palmeiro 37 .294 455 1,496
Fred McGriff 38 .286 451 1,422
Juan Gonzalez 32 .296 397 1,282

Jose Canseco is one of seven players in major league history with at least
450 home runs, 1,400 RBI and 200 stolen bases. Five are in the Hall of
Fame, and Barry Bonds is a sure first-ballot selection.

Player HR RBI SB
Hank Aaron 755 2,297 240
Willie Mays 660 1,903 338
Frank Robinson 586 1,812 204
Barry Bonds 580 1,565 486
Reggie Jackson 563 1,702 228
Dave Winfield 465 1,833 223
Jose Canseco 462 1,407 200

==========
From USA Today:
Canseco's next project: Tell-all book
By Mel Antonen

Now that Jose Canseco has retired from baseball, he's going to write a book.

"It's going to be the most interesting book sports has even seen," Canseco
told USA TODAY on Tuesday, a day after announcing his retirement. "It's
going to turn baseball on its ear. It's going to be incredible. It will
have all my experiences, good and bad.

"People don't know me. They don't know anything about me. They only know
what they see in the media. It's all about the truth. I'm going to clarify
everything. If you don't want to find out what's going on in baseball,
don't turn the pages of my book."

Canseco, 37, will tell his story to Bill Chastain, former baseball writer
for the Tampa Tribune, and the two are in the process of looking for a
publisher.

Canseco will not get specific but says the book will cover what's wrong
with baseball, from steroid use to racial problems. Later, on ESPN Radio,
he said steroids "renovated" the game and there are "shocking names" among
the players who used steroids.

At the start of his career in the late 1980s, Canseco was a Mickey
Mantle-type player with power, speed and an arm strong enough for his
original team, the Oakland Athletics, to think of him as a center fielder.

He has plenty of experiences to explain. Thanks to injuries and a lack of
discipline, Canseco developed into a journeyman who bounced from team to
team, never living up to his potential.

And he had a string of gaffes that contributed to his reputation. He talked
Texas manager Kevin Kennedy into letting him pitch, and he blew out his
arm. One night in Cleveland, he had a ball bounce off his head in right
field and go over the fence for a home run. (The replay has been on TV
thousands of times.)

He was the center of a steroids controversy. He got away from working on
defensive aspects of the game. He had relationship problems.

After being released from the Montreal Expos in spring training, Canseco
was playing for the Chicago White Sox's Class AAA team in Charlotte when he
announced his retirement. He said his emotions are mixed about retirement
because he wanted to reach 500 career home runs. He finished with 462.

"It hurts, because I know I could have done it easily," Canseco said. "What
hurts more is that I'm not getting an opportunity to do it."

The good news about his retirement is that he will get to spend more time
with his 5-year-old daughter, Josie, who lives in California.

"It's been 3 1/2 months since I've seen my daughter, and I figure she needs
a father more than I need Triple-A baseball," Canseco said. "The choice was
between suffering at Triple-A or going to see my daughter. The decision was
a no-brainer."

==========
From CNN/SI:
Unfulfilled yet understandable
Canseco didn't live up to his potential, but he had fun
By Phil Taylor

Jose Canseco hit baseballs harder than anyone I ever saw. I had many
occasions to be on the field during batting practice when Canseco was in
his prime with the Oakland A's in the late 1980s and early '90s, and no one
I've ever seen before or since, not Mark McGwire, not Barry Bonds, not
Sammy Sosa, can match the sheer power with which Canseco simply pulverized
the ball. It wasn't just the tape-measure missiles he pounded over fences,
it was the laser-like grounders and line drives he bashed. As Canseco stood
at the plate, muscles bulging in his always skin-tight uniform, waggling
his bat in anticipation, you wondered if he might hit the ball so hard it
would just explode on impact, disintegrating into grains of white powder.

He never did that, of course, just as he never accomplished many of the
more realistic feats he seemed capable of. Canseco announced his retirement
Monday at the age of 37, after 17 years spent with seven teams. He hit 462
home runs -- 22nd on the all-time list -- won a World Series, was voted
Rookie of the Year (1986) and Most Valuable Player (1988), and was the
first major leaguer to hit 40 home runs and steal 40 bases in the same
season. Yet, he somehow leaves a legacy of promise unfulfilled. He had a
fine career that could have been a legendary one if he'd been just a little
more serious, shown just a touch more commitment.

Canseco didn't get the most out of his talent. But you know what? That's
OK. He was the kind of underachiever who made you smile, the charming rogue
who could have really accomplished something if he'd just applied himself.
He had late-night dalliances with Madonna, drove Italian sportscars and
treated speed limits as if they were just a suggestion. He let a fly ball
bounce off his noggin and over the right field wall of Cleveland Stadium,
and he blew out his elbow in 1993 when he came in to pitch an inning
against the Boston Red Sox on a lark. Canseco had tons of fun, and if it
cost him Cooperstown, so be it.

Unlike others who fell short of greatness, like Darryl Strawberry or Dwight
Gooden, there's no element of tragedy to Canseco's story. He was just a guy
who wanted to have as good a time off the field as he did on it. Not every
player with great talent is meant to have a career that lives up to his
talent. Not every slugger can have the white-hot intensity and unwavering
focus of someone like Bonds.

Canseco put off retirement as long as he could, hoping to hang on long
enough to reach the 500-homer milestone, but he would have blown by that
mark long ago if he had taken better care of himself. Injuries cost him
hundreds of at-bats over the second half of his career, and he might have
avoided many of them if he hadn't seemed more interested in his body's form
than its function. Canseco always seemed to care more about how he filled
out a uniform than he did about flexibility and conditioning. It was no
coincidence that his chiseled body slowly began to crumble.

When it did, he became just another stone-handed American Leaguer who could
give the ball a ride when he got a hold of one. It's hard to believe a
player who was once the most feared slugger and valued commodity in
baseball wound up a vagabond DH with Oakland, Texas, Boston, Toronto, Tampa
Bay, the New York Yankees and Chicago White Sox. Canseco may have done more
traveling than he ever envisioned, but at least he -- and we -- had fun on
the ride.

Sports Illustrated senior writer Phil Taylor writes about a Hot Button
issue every Monday on CNNSI.com.

==========
From ESPN.com:
No way, Jose
By Dan Patrick

Just 38 home runs shy of 500, six-time All-Star slugger Jose Canseco
begrudgingly retired from baseball on Monday. But make no mistake, Canseco
is not going out on his own terms and he's not leaving quietly. In fact,
he's going out kicking, screaming and threatening to take a couple of
literary swings at major-league baseball.

Reaching the 500 home-run mark could punch Canseco's ticket to the Hall of
Fame, but he's leaving the game because he feels he doesn't have a real
chance to play in the majors again. And he feels that chance is being taken
from him for reasons unrelated to his playing ability.

The former "Bash Brother" most recently found a home with the Chicago White
Sox but was pushed out when Frank Thomas returned to resume the designated
hitter spot. Sent down to Triple-A in Charlotte, Canseco was given the
opportunity to display his talent in hopes another team would pick him up.

There were no takers.

At 37, Canseco feels he's got a lot of game left. He can't understand why
no one would give him a chance. Therefore, the only logical answer (to him)
is that he's been blackballed in the game. Once the superstar icon of MLB,
Canseco found himself friendless and rejected by the sport that once
crowned him king. He feels he deserves more. Maybe so. But he's not going
to get it.

The sport that created him has abandoned him. And like many players before
him, Canseco now faces some harsh realities. In baseball, when you're no
longer hitting home runs, having 40-40 seasons, winning MVPs and playing on
championship teams, people are going to forget about you.

All of which has left Canseco bitter and vindictive. In turn, he's not
simply taking his ball and going home. Canseco is threatening to write a
tell-all book. In which he'll be naming names and citing episodes of
steroid use, extramarital affairs and other indiscretions.

I'd like to tell you more, but each time I asked Canseco to be more
specific, he replied, "It will be in the book."

Canseco wants to lash out at somebody. And I can understand that to a
point. But he's lashing out at the wrong people. If he wants to tell the
truth, fine. But if he's going to bring down other players, he'll be doing
a disservice to individuals who have nothing to do with the end of his
playing days. If he wants to talk about being blackballed, he should target
owners, general managers and coaches, not players and former teammates.

If anyone is familiar with the fallout from a tell-all book, it's "Ball
Four" author Jim Bouton. Bouton chronicled his 1969 season with the Seattle
Pilots to give fans an inside look at the baseball world. In doing so,
Bouton not only turned the establishment on its ear but also alienated
himself from many teammates and friends. He was ostracized from baseball
and three decades later, continues to try to repair broken relationships.

As titillating as "Ball Four" was at the time, its content was tame in
comparison to the gossip, and news, of today. For instance, Bouton wrote
that Mickey Mantle once hit a home run when he was hung over. As a guest on
my radio show, Bouton explained that if you're going to write a tell-all
these days, you've got to come to the table with more than just steroids
and affairs.

He also pointed out that if Canseco didn't actually keep a journal, he'd be
hard-pressed to remember details that would give his stories credibility.
Bouton said that "Ball Four" was an attempt to bring fans closer to the
game. Unlike Canseco, Bouton didn't have malicious intent.

"Ball Four" has stayed in print for 30 years because, at its heart, it was
an expression of Bouton's love for the game that had given him a life and
career. He ruffled the establishment and it cost him because so many people
(players, executives and writers mostly) weren't ready for that line to be
crossed. But his book is still around because Bouton did what he set out to
do: bring fans into the daily world of being a professional baseball
player. In doing so, he literally spawned a genre of sports books. No such
contributions would result from what Canseco has in mind.

Early in Canseco's career, it was clear that he had the makings of a Hall
of Famer. But somewhere along the way, he bought into the persona he
created for himself: the guy who hit the majestic home runs, dated Madonna
and put rocket fuel in his car. He became the dashing Jose Canseco and
forgot about being a baseball player.

So while his retirement has sparked re-evaluation of his talents and a
debate regarding the Hall of Fame, what may be more important is that Jose
Canseco the man finds peace within himself and thinks twice before
tarnishing his baseball reputation forever. Certainly, writing this book
would make the debate moot: He'd have no chance at the Hall.

I doubt this book will ever be written. I think Canseco will realize he'll
do more harm to himself than good. He's angry now. When he calms down,
hopefully he realize that selling out your friends is not striking back.

It's striking out.

==========
From ESPN.com:
Career clouded by injuries, outrageousness
By Mark Kreidler

It's just so easy to turn down Buffoon Avenue when searching for Jose
Canseco. Shoot, the man drew up the map himself: Left on Outrageous St.,
straight through the stop sign (don't even think about slowing down), right
at Wasted Talent Drive, and pretty soon you're there.

Cut by the Expos in the spring, Jose Canseco played for Triple-A Charlotte
before retiring this week. Packing heat, if at all possible.

Canseco made it that simple; over time, he became the punch line to most of
his own favorite stories. He went from speeding tickets to Madonna to
steroid rumors to baseballs bouncin' off his noggin with equal parts
panache and clown routine. Half the time, you waited for the fright wig and
red rubber nose to appear in the locker stall.

But you know the thing about all that? It's actually too easy. It becomes
the most convenient dodge to consign Canseco to the Coulda Bin, because it
is so much simpler than actually taking the time to reckon with his career
in baseball.

That reckoning takes a few minutes. Because before he was a lounge act,
Jose Canseco was a genuinely huge figure in baseball.

What you'll hear around the coffee press this week is Canseco's name being
lumped in there with Dave Kingman's, the suggestion being that had Canseco
managed to hang around at the major-league level a while longer, he might
ultimately have been able to hit 500 home runs while still having no shot
at the Hall of Fame.

It's the predictable comparison -- and it's a total insult to Canseco's
body of work. It shouldn't be necessary to love Canseco as a guy (or even
particularly like him) in order to appreciate the truth that, at a certain
point in his career, he was as well-rounded a player as anyone in baseball.

Don't take my word for it; take Tony LaRussa's. LaRussa had Canseco in
Oakland, beginning in the mid-1980s, and describes him as the most complete
athlete he ever managed. Said LaRussa, "This guy really could run, and,
when he was concentrating, play defense. And he loved to take the tough
at-bat. Injuries just took the important part of his career from him."

It doesn't mean Canseco joins baseball's pantheon of immortals; it means
Canseco was pretty amazingly good long before he was pretty amazingly
obnoxious. Nine players in history have hit 400 home runs and stolen 200
bases; Canseco is one of them. He finishes with 462 home runs, 1,407 RBI
and the 200 steals. You can't make up those statistics in the actual major
leagues; you have to earn them.

Canseco was a pure showman, but even that obscures the point of his talent.
He was a prodigious swinger at the plate -- prone to awe-inspiring whiffs
and 450-foot homers, usually in the same game -- but controlled enough to
have batted over .300 twice and to finish at a non-miserable .266 over
7,000-plus at-bats.

More than that, though, Canseco was, for quite a long time, the guy who
made people lean forward in their seats every time he came to the plate.
Barry Bonds is in that category now; Mark McGwire, Canseco's old Bash
Brother, certainly held the distinction. There are others, no question. But
Canseco was right there.

For more than a while, he was considered McGwire's superior, and it was a
genuine distinction. Canseco was good enough to draw the compliment. And in
the end, he and McGwire shared at least one commonality: Both players are
classic What-Ifs in the baseball conversation, because so much of their
career primes were lost to injury.

McGwire ultimately seemed twice as serious about finding the highest use of
his talent; Canseco's game deteriorated under the blanket suspicion that he
just didn't care enough to get better. Closer to the truth was that Canseco
was in only his fourth full season, in 1989, when he first suffered
significant injury. A year later, his back began to betray him, and there
ensued a decade of on-again, off-again work, of schlepping his act from one
destination to another.

No point in feeling sorry for the man; it is what it is. Canseco brought
the substantial sum of baseball's ridicule on himself, and he never
apologized for it, so you have to assume that he did things the way he
decided he wanted to, for better and for worse. Now he says he'll write a
tell-all book that names names (let's see him slip a steroid rumor past a
publishing-house lawyer), and that'll pretty much cement Canseco's
reputation as a vaudevillian rather than an athlete.

If there's any shame here at all, that's probably the one. Over time, Jose
Canseco created exactly enough nuttiness and foolishness around him to
throw a gauzy haze permanently over his baseball career. Lost in the
cover-up is the notion that, once upon a time, the man really could play.

Mark Kreidler of the Sacramento Bee is a regular contributor to ESPN.com.

==========
From ESPN.com:
Which Canseco will Hall voters remember?
By Joe Morgan

Now that Jose Canseco has announced his retirement from baseball, the
debate will rage over the next five years about whether or not he should be
inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame.

While I have a high regard for Canseco as a player and a man, I will not
judge his credentials. As the Hall's vice chairman, I would rather not make
an argument for or against him.

Canseco, however, is a unique case. His induction will depend on what the
Hall voters remember about his career. Will they focus on Canseco as a
player at the beginning of his career or as a DH at the end?

Numbers alone should not be the telltale sign of a Hall of Famer, but most
people will gravitate toward them first. Canseco finished his career with
462 home runs, or 38 short of the magical 500 mark. Of the Hall-eligible
players with 400 or more home runs, only two -- Andre Dawson and Darrell
Evans -- have yet to be enshrined.

Canseco also distinguished himself as baseball's first 40-40 man (40 homers
and 40 steals) and was one of only nine players in baseball history to
record 400 home runs and 200 steals. But beyond the numbers, Canseco was a
league MVP, a Rookie of the Year, a six-time All-Star and a World Series
champion.

When he was a young player for the Oakland A's in the late '80s and early
'90s, there was no doubt he was headed for a Hall of Fame career. Tony La
Russa called Canseco the most complete player he ever managed, one who
could hit towering home runs, hit for average, run the bases, throw and
play defense.

The 40-40 season in 1988 showed he had the rare combination of power and
speed. He was a superstar and a presence, a charismatic player who caught
peoples' attention. He was one of the most dominant players in the game and
the best player on a team that went to three straight World Series (1988-90).

When Canseco and Mark McGwire formed "The Bash Brothers" in Oakland,
Canseco was the better all-around player. I expected them to produce
similar offensive numbers during their careers, but McGwire ended up
becoming one of the most prolific home-run hitters in baseball history.

While McGwire is expected to be a first-ballot Hall of Famer, Canseco's
future in Cooperstown is cast in doubt. Injuries and off-the-field problems
affected his path toward greatness. Then he became a DH, a spot unsuitable
for a potential Hall of Famer. Over his final eight seasons, Canseco played
only 148 games in the outfield.

Living in the Bay Area, I saw the best Canseco had to offer during his
career. Not only will I remember his great years in Oakland, but also his
maturity as a person.

Canseco is one of my favorite guys. When he played for the A's, he lived
around the corner from me. As a young man, he made some poor choices. But
once he got his personal life in order, Canseco grew into a heck of a man.

I admire his willingness late in his career to go to the minor leagues and
work his way back to the majors. Canseco had once been perhaps the biggest
star in the game, yet he was willing to play even in an independent league
to earn another chance.

His journey reminded me of the one Andre Agassi once traveled in tennis,
hitting the bottom and then rising again. Canseco showed his love for the
game and a desire to continue playing, no matter what.

Canseco will be a tough choice for the Hall of Fame. One must not discount
the early part of his career, when he was one of the game's most special
players. Whether it was special enough to earn him a permanent place in
Cooperstown will be for the voters to decide.

Hall of Fame second baseman Joe Morgan is a baseball analyst for ESPN and
contributes a weekly column for ESPN.com.