Hey everyone,

Sorry I missed BOTH Canseco chats I set up over the last few days. I hope
you guys enjoyed them.

Since his retirement, there sure has been a lot of news out there about
Jose. Of course the "Will Jose get in the Hall of Fame or not?" debate has
begun, but Jose's promises of writing a tell-all book are generating just
as many headlines. Jose says up to 85% of baseball players use
steroids. Wow. Of course, there is no drug testing in baseball for some
reason, but this revelation has sparked some interesting debate.

I know I promised I'd set up a way for you to send a note to Jose, but
that's going to have to wait until next week. Sorry, but there's no way I
can handle the huge response I'm expecting just yet. I'll keep you posted.

All the latest news is below, including some big stuff I have never heard
before. Check out this sneak peek from one of the articles:

---
"He was the picture of greatness; he did everything on an All-Star level,"
(Dave) Henderson said of Canseco. "But then he got lost and bored. He
became very average and one-dimensional. He just wanted to hit home runs."

Henderson said that he, Stewart and Carney Lansford, the leaders of those
dominating A's clubs, went to management and asked that Canseco be dealt,
that his laissez-faire attitude should no longer be tolerated.
---

Wow. I never knew that.

-Mark

==========
From NoLoadSports.com:
Billy Crystal had Mickey Mantle. I had Jose Canseco.
By Scott Stolze

Crystal is rich and famous. I am neither. But, while I will never have
Crystal’s humor, or money, or name, I do share one thing in common with
this particular King of Comedy, and that is a passion for a ballplayer who
gave me the chance to grow up with a real, live sports hero.

For the better part of a decade starting about 1976 ­ now old enough to
follow sports ­ I rooted for teams. I cried when the Bengals lost Super
Bowl XVI, I cheered when the Julius and Moses-led 76ers claimed the 1983
NBA Title. But something changed in 1985. From the moment he arrived in the
big leagues, I followed Jose Canseco’s every move, every at bat. Sure, I
still rooted for the A’s as a team. I had liked them since the BillyBall
era. But it was different now, because whereas before it was an interest,
now it was a passion.

Having a sports hero changes everything for a kid. Instead of just rooting
for a logo, or a color, now you’re rooting for a person as well. As kids
we’re most impressionable. Do we learn or get guidance or inspiration from
symbols? Well, maybe, if you loved Black Sabbath. But more often than not
kids look up to people, be it parents, big brothers and sisters, teachers.
Sometimes, for boys anyway, it’s an athlete. And why not? They may not get
to teach all the values, but they sure come in handy when playing wiffle
ball in the back yard or tackle football at the park. You know how many
kids must have imitated Tony Dorsett when carrying the ball in a game of
football with friends in the early 80s? I even tried to be him. But most
often, I was Jose Canseco swinging to bomb one over the bush in the backyard.

Having a hero does more than just affect how you play games, though. It
means running to the only variety store in town that carried the one local
paper which had late West Coast boxscores every single day after school so
you can see what Jose did the night before; it’s lying in bed at night
listening to a game on the radio so you can hear all four of his at bats;
it’s tuning into the sports updates every half hour on CBS News radio in
the hopes that you’ll hear his name called for having a big hit in an
Oakland game; it’s going to a dumpy old high school on a rainy day to see
him at a baseball card show so you can get his autograph; it’s collecting
all newspaper articles relevant to him and tucking them away, protected by
plastic, in a baseball card album; it’s driving four and a half hours from
your college campus to the spring training site of his team to hope beyond
hope that you not only see him working out but that you get to see him play
a full game; it’s running home from school on the day of Game 1 of the ALCS
to see him hit a bomb over the Green Monster courtesy of a Roger Clemens
fastball; it’s memorizing stats, every year, so thoroughly that you could
recite his HR total after years two, three, five or seven of his career;
most importantly, it’s having fun, a connection, and a reason to root.

Sports are much more than liking a player. We see unbelievably exciting
games, we remember a first visit to a certain stadium, we root against
players and teams we don’t like, or better yet, we root for underdogs. And,
when championships are won, we celebrate like we were part of the winning
team. But, for all those special moments, they are just that, a moment. A
Gators win in Knoxville, nice. A Uconn National Championship, what a story.
A Stanley Cup lifted by the Colorado Avalanche, hey, awesome. But 17 years,
17 years of stories, ups, downs, prolific swings and home runs, titles and
flops, MVPs and MV(Chumps). Games and wins last a night. Heroes last much
longer.

A weird thing happened last Monday night when Jose Canseco officially
announced his retirement. For the first time in 17 years, I do not have a
hero still tied to professional sports, an icon who would give me impetus
to watch Sportscenter, turn on a game I wouldn’t otherwise care about, or
check a boxscore I would otherwise prefer not to see.

Changes in sports, and the proliferation of sports mediums, have
drastically altered the way in which we connect with these games, and these
leagues. Miss a game, flip the channel to the next one; miss a score,
browse the web for an in-depth breakdown, play by play by play; lose a team
to another city, just expand and bring in a new one. But a hero, and the
passion that particular hero fosters, are not replaceable. No channel to
flip to, no sports web site to read, no expansion team to pick up. I am
still thankful, however, because for the better part of my life as a sports
fan, I had one of those heroes, and to me, more than anything else, that is
what made sports so special.

==========
From ESPN.com:
Canseco isn't the test case for Hall criteria
By Ray Ratto

Something odd happened the other day when Jose Canseco retired, and no,
we're not talking about the rumor that Chuck Finley and Tawny Kitaen were
going to appear on the next ElimiDate.

In reality, Jose Canseco had a brief, dominant prime in an otherwise
journeyman career.

The odd thing was that Canseco was listed as a "borderline" Hall of Famer,
particularly by people who ought to know better. Canseco's chances of
making the Hall of Fame stop just short of "None Whatsoever," and everyone
with a vote and the brain to back it up knows it.

Not that we wish Canseco any ill. He stuck with the game far longer than
the game stuck with him, but facts are facts, kids. He had a five-year
prime, not even as long as Sandy Koufax's, and he was never as good a
hitter as Koufax was a pitcher.

Still, Canseco was listed as a "borderline" Hall of Famer because he put up
some hellacious numbers in that prime and the Numbers Lobby has some very
earnest proponents.

See, there are two kinds of Hall of Fame voters -- drunks and weasels. No,
no, that's not it. Start again.

See, there are two kinds of Hall of Fame voters -- hard graders and easy
graders, and their philosophies mesh like, well, like Chuck and Tawny on
"Celebrity Deathmatch."

The hard graders operate on various related theories, among which are:

The Potter Stewart Pornography Theory: "I know it when I see it."

The No More Rick Ferrells Theory: "We can't cheapen the Hall with these
borderline guys."

The No More Arthur Andersens Theory: "Every mutt puts up numbers now, so
the numbers don't mean anything any more."

The easy graders operate on two competing theories:

The "Ninety Percent Of Life is Just Showing Up Theory," in which longevity
and raw numbers tell you everything you need to know.

The "LPGA Theory," which is numbers uber alles. Win enough tournaments and
you're in. No voting, no schmoozing, no contemptible backchannel lobbying.
Somewhere, Bill James smiles.

And with more players putting up numbers, fully contexted or otherwise, the
debate between the two sides will only grow more heated, as in:

"You suck."

"I suck? You suck."

And this goes on for a couple of hours until everyone adjourns to the first
no-closing-time bar they can find.

Now you may wonder who is right in this debate, and the answer is, as it
always has been, "Me. I'm right, and you're a moron." The Hall of Fame
voting criteria is as a vague as the Second Amendment, which is another one
of those gun-barrel-of-the-beholder debates we simply are not going to
engage in here, so back off, Heston. We're not playing.

And while the voters are normally a diligent lot, they can be swayed by the
first cute argument that comes along. Take, for example, Orlando Cepeda,
who was voted in on his last year of regular eligibility largely on the
strength of a public relations blitz by the San Francisco Giants that
included the unprovable and almost certainly erroneous notion that he was
kept out of the Hall because of a marijuana conviction.

Why do we know it's erroneous? Because (a) it never was mentioned as a
stumbling block in all the years he couldn't get 50 percent of the vote,
and (b) because most of the current voters have smoked more hemp than
Cepeda has ever seen. It became a topic of discussion only when the Giants
decided that to make it one would help Cepeda.

Does Cepeda belong in the Hall? Tough call. He wouldn't have been a Numbers
guy, but he had a longer prime that Canseco, he did make a difference in
the Cardinals' 1967 championship and never brought dishonor to the game. He
was, in short, the quintessential "borderline" guy.

But this isn't about Cepeda anyway. It's about two differing views about
how inclusive the Hall of Fame should be, and whether one has to be cruel
to be kind, or just make it festival seating in Cooperstown.

There are even a few folks who think the Hall should eject some members
already voted in to make sure the honor is as elite as it purports to be.
We do not subscribe to that theory, if only because Babe Ruth really did a
lot for the game in the years before he was a Boston Brave.

In either event, the test case for these two schools of thought isn't Jose
Canseco, and it never will be. It will be in a few years, when Rafael
Palmeiro and Jeff Bagwell come up. The Numbers folks say they are sure
things. The Anti-Numbers guys say maybe, but no more.

That's when the debate will become fun. With Jose Canseco on the table, it
isn't even close.

As for Chuck Finley and Tawny Kitaen ... well, the CourtTV folks say
they're both Hall of Famers, sure, but their criteria may be different than
yours or mine.

Ray Ratto of the San Francisco Chronicle is a regular contributor to ESPN.com.

==========
From the Sacramento Bee:
Baseball Beat: Canseco likely to whiff in bid for Hall of Fame
By Nick Peters -- Bee Staff Writer
Sunday, May 19, 2002

SAN FRANCISCO -- Jose Canseco ended his injury-scarred major-league career
by announcing his retirement when bids to join the Expos and the White Sox
failed, denying his pursuit of 500 home runs, a target that seemed a cinch
when he briefly was the best player in the game.

Canseco concluded with 462 home runs and 1,407 RBIs, good numbers
considering his limited participation in recent years. Greg Vaughn, another
slugger-gone-sour, said last week, "If he could have stayed healthy, Jose's
numbers would have been scary."

Vaughn endorsed Canseco for Hall of Fame enshrinement, which is ludicrous
if you believe sustained excellence is a prerequisite for Cooperstown.
Canseco certainly doesn't meet that criteria.

Ten years ago, he did. As a member of the fabled Class of 1986, Canseco was
at the forefront. After six years with the A's, he had 204 homers, 584
RBIs, an MVP award, 40-40 distinction and a World Series ring, courtesy of
the Giants.

At the time, classmates Will Clark (Giants) and Ruben Sierra (Rangers) also
were budding Hall of Famers. Clark averaged 27 homers and 104.4 RBIs in his
first five years, Sierra 24.6 homers and 106.2 RBIs over the comparable period.

They're not Hall of Famers, either, because they faded from superstardom.

Clark's numbers dwindled as injuries increased, and Sierra's game
mysteriously vanished. He played in 86 big-league games from 1997 through
2000 before recapturing the magic last year with Texas.

Canseco tumbled from the head of the class while Barry Bonds passed him as
the cinch Hall of Famer from '86.

For his career, Canseco batted .266 in the regular season, .211 in the
playoffs, .152 in the World Series and .000 in All-Star Games.

His flameout is reminiscent of what happened to Dale Murphy, a back-to-back
MVP in 1982-83 who stayed around too long and tarnished his reputation --
an above-average player who, like Canseco, lacks strong Hall of Fame
credentials.

Look how difficult it was for Orlando Cepeda and Tony Perez to gain entry,
and they had prodigious numbers in an era best known for its pitching. By
the time Canseco is considered, prolific power numbers will be commonplace.

And, as former A's teammate Dave Henderson pointed out, Canseco was too
caught up in those numbers late in his career.

"He let teams know his interest was getting to 500 home runs, not playing
baseball," Henderson said. "If I'm a GM, I don't sign anybody who isn't
thinking about the team first. He was one of the best players at his peak,
but he kept talking about home runs, not baseball."

==========
From the Arizona Republic:
No Hall likely, but Canseco isn't finished
May 19, 2002

Jose Canseco walked away from baseball the same way he came in: swinging
for the fences.

The slugger retired early last week, but within 24 hours he was again smack
in the middle of the batter's box, talking up a tell-all book he says is in
the works, one that promises to name names regarding steroid use.

As was his style as a player, you just never know what you'll get with
Canseco. Will it be another moonshot or a strikeout that you'd swear left
behind a gale-force wind?

Canseco's career was cometlike. He burst on the scene in full glory, and
all too quickly he was gone. Now that Canseco has retired, the immediate
conversation turns toward his credentials and the Hall of Fame. Did he do
enough to warrant a spot in Cooperstown?

Early in his career, it seemed he was well on his way. But he didn't
sustain it long enough. That is a sad story, because Canseco may have been
the best pure talent baseball has seen in 20 years.

"There was nothing he couldn't do," said former Oakland teammate Dave
Henderson, now a broadcaster for the Seattle Mariners.

Sure, injuries robbed Canseco. A herniated disk in his lower back erased
countless at-bats. And the way his body went from streamlined to Incredible
Hulk-like overnight surely could not have helped, whether or not it was
chemically induced.

But it was Canseco's ho-hum attitude toward the game that probably cost him
most.

Almost like clockwork, the Athletics would await the time each summer when
Canseco would go on a self-imposed two-week stint on the disabled list for
some nagging injury. The belief within the organization was that Canseco
simply wanted to take a vacation back home in Miami.

"If only he had applied himself to the game," said another former A's
teammate, Dave Stewart, now Milwaukee's pitching coach. "Once he got to a
certain point financially, his head was never in the game again."

That point apparently was reached during the 1991 season, when Canseco
burst through the economic stratosphere with a mind-boggling, five-year,
$23.5 million contract that dwarfed the next largest contract, a four-year,
$12 million deal that belonged to Kirby Puckett.

"He was the picture of greatness; he did everything on an All-Star level,"
Henderson said of Canseco. "But then he got lost and bored. He became very
average and one-dimensional. He just wanted to hit home runs."

Henderson said that he, Stewart and Carney Lansford, the leaders of those
dominating A's clubs, went to management and asked that Canseco be dealt,
that his laissez-faire attitude should no longer be tolerated.

Soon enough, Canseco's career turned into a revolving door. He went to
Texas late in 1992, Boston in 1995, returned to Oakland in '97, went to
Toronto in '98, followed by Tampa Bay, the New York Yankees and the Chicago
White Sox.

Along the way, there were spring training stops with Anaheim and Montreal
and a run with the Independent League Newark Bears. When there's that many
stops involved, it's not exactly the kind of resume that screams Hall of Fame.

Now Canseco promises one last shot into the upper deck, one sure to leave
another indelible mark on the game from one of the most enigmatic players
the game has seen.

"(Steroids have) completely restructured the game as we know it," Canseco
told Fox Sports Net's Jim Rome. " . . . If you want to find out the
information, the book I'm putting out is going to have everything in detail."

Even now, with his final at-bat in the books, Canseco remains a riveting
figure. Of course, he would have it no other way.

Reach Gomez at pedro.gomez@...

==========
From the Atlanta Journal Constitution:
Canseco not willing to commit?
By THOMAS STINSON

Jose Canseco's official, final, I-Mean-It-This-Time retirement has spawned
more debate over the 500-home run plateau than it has about the leaving of
baseball's first 40-40 man.

But before the Hall of Fame debate goes much further, whether a player who
reached 462 homers is worthy, listen to ex-teammate and fellow Bash Brother
Dave Henderson, who has long been critical of how Canseco's career crashed
in the early 1990s.

"In '88 and '89, oh, yeah, he was playing like a Hall of Famer," Henderson
said. "But the Hall of Fame means you have to sustain it a lot of years. He
was not willing to put in that commitment to sustain it."

==========
From ESPN.com:
By Peter "I've always been Anti-Jose" Gammons
Oh, so sorry: The labor front and Canseco

"What kills a skunk is the publicity it gives itself."
-- Abraham Lincoln

...Skunkism II. Jose Canseco. Blackballed? Give us a break. A tell-all
book? Fine, his steroid claims further discount his 462 career home runs,
which given the era translates to about 350 for those who came up in the
early 1970s.

Canseco led the AL in at least one category four times. He knocked in more
than 95 runs once after 1992, inexcusable for a run-producing player who'd
let himself get out of baseball shape so badly that he could only DH.
Compare him to Dwight Evans, who won nine Gold Gloves, who given the larger
ballparks, smaller bodies and for several seasons in the '70s played with
the cowhide experiment that led to so many balls falling apart and
softening, and the 462/385 home run difference is no difference at all.

Evans played in two World Series, and in both 1975 -- with his catch of a
Joe Morgan flyball that rivalled Willie Mays in '54 and Devon White in '93
-- was Boston's best player, finishing with a .300 series average.

Canseco's only postseason defensive memory was an embarrassment in the 1990
World Series in Cincinnati that outraged A's manager Tony LaRussa at the
time, and his postseason career offensive totals were 19-for-102.

Puhleaze. The notion of a second rate DH being in the Hall of Fame ahead of
a superior player who was the best defensive right fielder I saw in 25
years is an affront to the sport. So go write the book, or have someone
else write it, and get some Miami talk show host who wouldn't know baseball
from dog racing to moan your failure to make it to Cooperstown.

Evans was a better player than Canseco in every single phase of the game.
The funny thing is that Canseco is a good guy and was liked by his
teammates ... he just wasn't a very good baseball player the last 10 years
of his career, which made him one of the biggest wastes of talent of his time.

==========
From NorthJersey.com
Jose, can you see? You're a bitter man
Sunday, May 19, 2002

So Jose Canseco is promising to write a tell-all book, no doubt convinced
he can tap into America's obsession with scandal. The recently retired
slugger claims to have plenty of ammunition, too, including lists of
steroid-using players in the big leagues. If you love gossip, Canseco says,
you've come to the right place.

The possibility of such a book - which Canseco says will "blow [Jim
Bouton's] 'Ball Four' out of the water" - raises two questions. Just how
much does he know? But more importantly, why is Canseco so committed to
exposing his peers who've done nothing to harm him? If you think it's
because Canseco wants to better baseball, to spur the sport into a
drug-testing policy, then you don't know the man. Colorful and charismatic,
and until now easy to like, Canseco nevertheless spent his entire career
serving himself. Ask yourself, how many other players ever created their
own 900-number? It was a delightful gimmick until Canseco started losing
his bat speed three years ago. That's when he started bouncing from team to
team, hoping to stick around long enough to reach 500 home runs. He
finished with 462 homers because, like most players close to 40, Canseco
was eventually defeated by 90-mph fastballs.

He was cut by the Expos in spring training, and continued to deteriorate
with the White Sox' Class AAA affiliate in Charlotte until announcing his
retirement last week.

But for all of Canseco's promises of future truth-telling, he's so far
refused to be honest about simply getting old. Instead, the 37-year-old
Canseco is convinced he was black-balled by owners. Why? It'll be in the
book, Canseco says, along with every nasty snippet about the game's
superstars. Apparently, Canseco has a grudge against the world, which is
really why he's writing a book - to use it as a weapon.

Maybe Canseco believes a best seller will help him get into the Hall of
Fame in 2007, his first year of eligibility. Somehow, we doubt it. Even if
he'd hit 38 more homers, his numbers don't merit election. Canseco is a
career .266 hitter, with a .152 average in the World Series and exceeded 95
RBI only once after 1992.

Granted, between 1986, when he hit 33 home runs with 117 RBI, and 1992,
when he hit 44 homers with 122 RBI, he was one the game's best players. And
it's a fact that he was baseball's first 40 homer-40 steal man. But there's
no other reason to even consider him for Cooperstown. In fact, with Cal
Ripken, Mark McGwire, and Tony Gwynn on the ballot in 2007, Canseco's name
could appear on fewer than 25 percent of the ballots, if that.

Mostly, Canseco will be remembered as a colorful player who fueled the
gossip pages, having briefly dated Madonna. But he turned mean at the end.
Just ask the Newark Bears, who offered Canseco a place on their roster
early in 2001 when no major league club would have him.

Canseco could've easily helped out an independent franchise that needs the
fan support - especially considering it's run by a former major-leaguer,
Rick Cerone. But all Canseco did was complain about the condition of the
Bears' clubhouse, which he considered minor league and therefore beneath him.

Somehow, Canseco forgot that he'd brought this misery upon himself. He'd
stopped hitting. He got old. Hopefully, Canseco will someday be honest
enough to admit that much.

==========
From Tenneseean.com
Any way, Jose?

The retirement this past week of Jose Canseco has raised two questions:
What will ''all be in the book'' he's writing that supposedly will blow the
lid off baseball's dark side? And will he make the Hall of Fame?

Here are various columnists' viewpoints on Canseco:

Phil Rogers, Chicago Tribune: ''A slugger of mythological proportions,
Canseco created excitement wherever he went. Only in the early years did he
give himself a chance to fulfill that excitement, however.

''Few players ever reinvented themselves more often than Canseco. He went
from being one of two tall, thin, identical twins into being a forerunner
in the movement of power-lifting power hitters. He had the speed to become
baseball's first 40 homers-40 steals man, winning an MVP for Oakland in
1988. But his celebrity far outdistanced his dedication.

''In his final eight seasons, Canseco played with Texas, Boston, Oakland,
Tampa Bay, the Yankees and the White Sox. He was driven not by an ideal but
by a number. He saw 500 home runs as his admission to Cooperstown; he'll
finish with 462, to go along with a .266 batting average and 1,407 RBI.

Chris Baldwin, Asbury Park (N.J.) Press: ''Can the real Jose Canseco,
please shut up, please shut up!''

''The one-time Bash Bro-ther/pop star dater/high speed racer thrust himself
into one of the most serious issues hovering over major league baseball -
how performance enhancers, including steroids, have forever changed the game.

''Canseco claims that 85% of major league players take steroids. He made
the charge on national TV, declaring 'There would be no baseball left if
they drug-tested everyone today.' A day later, he refused further comment,
saying he would save it for his book.

''But unless Canseco wants to name names, he is only hurting the fight. His
book banter turns a real problem into just another money grab. Will the
steroids talk get more play than Madonna in his breathlessly awaited tome?

''This is a case of one too many home run balls off the head.

Jerry Crasnick, Bloomberg News Service: ''Canseco's most enduring
accomplishments came early in his career. He won the American League Rookie
of the Year award in 1986 and two years later became the first player in
history to hit 40 homers and steal 40 bases in a season. He won the Most
Valuable Player award that season and played in the World Series with Oakland.

''But a long list of injuries made it increasingly difficult for Canseco to
stay on the field. He appeared in more than 120 games only once after the
1991 season, and finished in the top 10 in the MVP voting only twice in his
career.

Jayson Stark, espn.com: ''Jose turned into nothing but a sideshow after his
first three seasons - a guy who tried to hit everything 700 feet.''

==========
From the Macon Telegraph:
Canseco good, but not worthy of Hall of Fame

Jose Canseco has retired, so we'll have to wait for somebody else to bring
soccer to a baseball stadium near you.

Canseco, of course, is quite noted for that outfield fiasco when he
head-butted a ball over the fence.

That he left with 462 homers led to a hint of discussion regarding his
credentials for Cooperstown.

I say that giggling. Some people talked about it seriously.

For a half-dozen years, he was a monster. Having Mark McGwire batting with
him in the lineup obviously didn't hurt, either. Together they were the
Bash Brothers.

He's a career .266 hitter. Never quite earned a Mr. Clutch moniker, thanks
to his .152 average in the World Series.

He struck out an astonishing 1,942 times. That's 4.2 whiffs for every
homer, with about 500 fewer runs batted in.

Canseco had a good arm, but was otherwise average defensively. Yes, he was
the first to hit 40 homers and steal 40 bases, but doesn't it take more to
make the Hall than simply to be a first?

Yes.

Is Canseco a Hall of Famer?

No.

==========
From CBS Sportsline:
Behind the Numbers: Will Hall call Canseco, McGriff?
By Charlie McCarthy
May 17, 2002

Do numbers alone make a Hall of Famer? And if so, which numbers?

With that in mind, we give you Jose Canseco and Fred McGriff, two players
who recently have stoked Hall of Fame talk.

Canseco, who was toiling in Triple-A with the White Sox's Charlotte
affiliate, retired this week with 462 career home runs.

Little more than a week earlier, Cubs first baseman McGriff belted his
450th (and 451st) career homers in a game against the Dodgers.
Considering every retired player with at least 450 career homers has been
enshrined at Cooperstown -- except Eddie Murray, who's a lock despite his
well-known rudeness to the voters (a.k.a. media members) -- the question
is: Are Canseco and McGriff future Hall of Famers?

Canseco, a career .266 hitter, finished with 1,407 RBI and 200 stolen bases
in 1,887 games. He was baseball's first 40-40 man (40 homers, 40 steals in
the same season), and he's one of only nine players in history with 400
home runs and 200 stolen bases.

McGriff currently ranks fifth on the home run list for active big-leaguers,
trailing Barry Bonds, Ken Griffey Jr., Sammy Sosa and Rafael Palmeiro. Yes,
Palmeiro -- he has 455 dingers.

Keep in mind that Dave Kingman's 442 homers are the highest total for
players not in the Hall.

So, do the numbers put up by Canseco and McGriff simply reflect the
"powerful" modern game, or do they earn spots in Cooperstown?

As for Canseco's 40-40 status, well, Willie Mays said he could have done it
every year if he had known it would have been a big deal. Say Hey to that.

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

Recently retired MLB All-Star Jose Canseco appeared on The Last Word with
Jim Rome Friday and discussed his still-to-be-released, tell-all book. The
show airs at 6:30 p.m. and 10:30 p.m. (check local listings). Here are some
of the highlights:

Rome: How rampant is steroid use in Major League Baseball?
Canseco: There would be no baseball left if they drug tested everyone today.

Rome: What percentage would you say are juiced?
Canseco: 85.

Rome: So, it's had its effect on the game to a detriment, right?
Canseco: It's completely restructured the game as we know it. When I went
into the league in 1985 compared to today, it's completely changed the game
around. Completely restructured the game. That's why guys are hitting 50 or
60 or 75 home runs.

Rome: So if guys are hitting 50, 60 or 75 home runs, are we to assume that
home-run marks that guys like Barry Bonds has and Mark McGwire had, that
these were steroid driven?
Canseco: If you want to find out the information, the book I'm putting out,
is going to have everything in detail.

Rome: If that's what your alleging, than the historic marks in the game
mean nothing if they're steroid induced, correct?
Canseco: If they are steroid induced, it is what baseball has become.

Canseco didn't answer the question as to whether he used steroids, merely
saying, "Read the book." When Rome responded by saying, "That doesn't sound
like a denial to me," Canseco said, "It'll be in the book."

==========
From MSNBC:

...CANSECO, WHO ANNOUNCED his retirement earlier in the week, refused to
say if he took steroids.

"It's completely restructured the game as we know it," he said. "That's why
guys are hitting 50 or 60 or 75 home runs."

During an interview with The Associated Press on Friday, Canseco refused to
answer questions about steroid use, saying he would give details in the
book he is writing.

"Basically what it's going to be is the true story of my life - good and
bad, the ups and downs," Canseco said. "I'll name names and discuss
basically everything and everybody involved in it. There are a million
things I could talk about."

That includes fast cars, Madonna, failed marriages, and his suspicion that
he was "exiled" from baseball.

Canseco announced his retirement Monday, leaving the game with 462 home
runs, 1,407 RBIs and a .266 batting average in 1,887 games with seven
teams. He was hitting .172 with five homers and nine RBIs in 18 games for
Triple-A Charlotte when he quit.

"I've had a lot of athletes in different sports and I know a lot of people
in the acting field that all told me I've been exiled, basically
blackballed," Canseco said.

The 37-year-old Canseco was one of the game's most colorful figures, on and
off the field. He assured co-author Bill Chastain that no aspect of his
private life will be off-limits.

Chastain has started interviewing Canseco for the book and plans to meet
with prospective publishers next week.

"Jose has led a very interesting life, and he has a story to tell," said
Chastain, a former Tampa Tribune sports writer.

"People have always been fascinated by him."

Canseco isn't concerned about what other players might think of the way
they're portrayed in the book.

"It's just going to be part of my life," Canseco said. "In a lot of ways,
my life wasn't perfect, either. I made a lot of mistakes. I'm going to
talk about that also."

He says he hasn't spent much time thinking about whether he deserves to
make the Hall of Fame.

"That's not for me to judge," he said. "I know I was injured a lot, and I
know if I would have been given the opportunity to play baseball more,
I would have easily hit 500 home runs, maybe even 600."

==========
From NBC Sports:
Canseco missed out on greatness
By Ted Robinson
No ticket to Hall of Fame for underachieving slugger

May 17 - When I look back at Jose Canseco's career, what strikes me most
is the way he squandered his vast potential. This is a guy who could have
broken an amazing number of records. He could have been as great as Barry
Bonds but he allowed himself to deteriorate into a one-dimensional player,
writing off his chances at making the Hall of Fame.

THE SIMILARITIES BETWEEN Canseco and Bonds are striking. They are both 37,
in fact their birthdays are only 22 days apart in July. Canseco broke into
the majors in 1985 with Bonds following a season later. They both brought
to the major leagues the tools to be all-around stars. Only Bonds delivered
on his promise.

Bonds is doing today what Canseco could have, and in my opinion, should
have done. Canseco should be approaching 600 home runs, 500 stolen bases
and he should have threatened the single-season home run record if not
broken it outright by now.

The big difference is twofold: the physical work Bonds has undergone for 17
years to maintain his condition and enjoy a relatively injury-free
career and the mental focus to remain a Gold Glove outfielder and effective
base stealer for much of his career. Obviously being in the National League
forced him to do some of that but you also have to have some internal pride
as well. Bonds has it and Canseco most clearly did not.

WHO IS THIS GUY AND WHAT'S HIS NAME

As a broadcaster with the Oakland A's, I first saw Canseco in spring
training in 1985 in Phoenix. The A's were not a great ball club but were
building their farm system. They had an intersquad game going one day and
all of a sudden this rawboned, but strong kid came to the plate. He had
played at Double A the year before but nobody really knew much about him.
Then in that intersquad game he hit a ball off one of the A's starting
pitchers Chris Codiroli. It was a colossal shot, a ball that was hit over
the 40-foot high batters' eye in dead center field at the A's stadium in
Phoenix. The reaction was what you would expect. All of a sudden everyone
is standing around the dugout looking at each other and wondering, "Who is
this guy and what's his name."

He came up a year before Mark McGwire and he hit balls places we had not
seen. He could run, which was evidenced by his ability to steal 40 bases.
He could play the outfield and he had a good arm. In essence he had the
tools to be an all-around superstar. And sadly after about three years he
became completely disinterested in doing anything other than hitting home
runs. He was more into being a celebrity, into being Jose Canseco.

I fast forward to 1991 and I'm now working for the Twins and they are
engaged with the A's in a pennant race. Oakland had won the AL West the
last three years in a row and Minnesota is trying to dethrone them. The
teams played a huge series in August with the A's chasing the
division-leading Twins.

Throughout that series I watched Canseco in right field and he is turning
around during the games to look up in the stands chatting with fans. It
looked like he was daydreaming. He left the impression that playing the
outfield in these games was the last thing he wanted to do. While he was
making a contribution at the plate hitting the ball, he feigned complete
disinterest in the rest of the game.

In a situation where your team is playing and fighting for its life in a
pennant race it was an incredibly disheartening thing to see. Sadly
those are the memories that linger with me about Canseco, not the colossal
blasts and the 40-40 year, but the callous way he treated the game.


BATTING PRACTICE TOURING SHOW

I maintain to this day that after 19 years in baseball the greatest show I
ever saw was not Barry Bonds hitting his 73 home runs last year but instead
the first year, 1987 that Canseco and McGwire played together. Their
batting practice in American League parks was almost like a touring
carnival show. The A's would draw an amazing number of people to stadiums
just to watch those two "beef brothers" take batting practice. That was the
kind of aura that Canseco had around him early in his career.

In my view he spent the majority of his career as a specialist. He became a
designated hitter and a power hitter and that was his game. One could make
the argument that there have been such "one dimensional" players who made
the Hall of Fame in the past.

Harmon Killebrew and Ralph Kiner fit into that category. They hit home runs
and did very little else. I would counter by pointing out that these two
had to play the field their whole careers.

Canseco had his moment, however brief. His 1988 MVP was deserved, although
the focus on his 40-40 season seems misguided. Willie Mays, whose prime
years were played when the stolen base was rare, saw the fuss about a 40-40
season and said memorably, "If I had known that would be a big deal, I
would have done it a couple of times myself." Not long after that year,
Canseco became so disinterested in the outfield that he hid behind the DH.

HALL OF FAME CAREER GONE AWRY

Then his body broke down at an early age. Canseco has said he will write
the ultimate "tell-all" book on major league baseball. Will he address
whether he used steroids and if he did will he say that his injuries were
caused by steroid use?

Perhaps that book will explain Canseco's conduct. I view it as a
Hall-of-Fame career gone awry. In 1989, I think most observers would have
agreed that Canseco was on the track to a first-ballot Hall of Fame
election. The next decade saw Canseco transformed into a sad joke, the
quintessential child actor or one-hit music group that couldn't sustain
success.

Today, I believe the majority will view Canseco as a wasted talent. The
Hall of Fame is for the great. Canseco qualified for an all-too-brief
period before settling into a career that should be described as good. With
an increasing number of players compiling inflated offensive statistics in
this era, Canseco's numbers won't shine as brightly. And I truly believe
the Hall-of-Fame standard will remain very high, out of reach of this man
who should have achieved greatness.

==========
From the Sporting News
Inside Dish: MLB wants to crack down on steroid use
May 19, 2002

Major League Baseball is ready to crack down on steroid use, but the
players' union must consent to drug testing. "This is definitely a priority
issue for us," says Rob Manfred, MLB's chief labor attorney. "We have a
wall-to-wall, 10-page, single-spaced proposal on the table. We have had at
least two meetings (with the union) in which a substantial portion of the
meetings was devoted to the drug-testing issue." ...

==========
From ESPN:
Is the Class of 2001 the best ever?
By Rob Neyer

Wednesday morning, in the wake of Jose Canseco's "retirement," An ESPN.com
editor passed along the following ...

On the radio today driving in, they were talking about Canseco and how he'd
be Hall of Fame-eligible with the class that features Gwynn, Ripken and
McGwire. Kornheiser quickly said that's the best class ever (excluding the
first class). Someone brought up the last great class of Brett, Yount and
Ryan, and Kornheiser said it's not close. I disagree, but this might make a
good column while Canseco is still in the news.

I've got another take on this. Because the Hall of Fame's voting procedures
have changed so much over the years, it's hard to compare "classes." More
relevant, perhaps, is comparing seasons in which great players last
appeared as major leaguers. So then the question becomes, "Did 2001 feature
more truly great players in their last seasons than any other season?"

And the answer, I think, is pretty clearly that it didn't. Gwynn, Ripken
and McGwire were all great players, and Canseco (who didn't play in the
majors this season) was nearly great. But that class with Brett, Yount and
Ryan also included Dale Murphy, who's comparable to Canseco in terms of
career value, and Carlton Fisk. So already, it's three legitimate Hall of
Famers from 2001 vs. four Hall of Famers who played their last seasons in 1993.

So where does the Graduating Class of 2001 rank? Below, in at least some
semblance of order, are my picks for the top 10 classes (using Bill James'
new Win Shares system of valuing players).

1. 1993 (1,851 Win Shares, 370 Win Shares per superstar)
The quintet mentioned above, from Brett (432) down to Murphy (294) totaled
1,851 Win Shares and averaged 370 Win Shares per superstar.

2. 1917 (1,727-432)
Quartet of players is dominated by Honus Wagner (655), but Wahoo Sam
Crawford, Gettysburg Eddie Plank and Big Ed Walsh were all great, too.

3. 1937 (1,624-354)
Even if you exclude marginal Hall of Famers Chick Hafey and Jesse Haines
(as I did), still a mighty impressive group that consists of Rogers Hornsby
(502), Frankie Frisch, Mickey Cochrane and Pie Traynor.

4. 1947 (2,364-295)
The first season for future Hall of Famers Jackie Robinson and Larry Doby,
and the last season for eight great and near-great players, including Hall
of Famers Mel Ott, Hank Greenberg, Red Ruffing, Dizzy Dean, Billy Herman
and Ernie Lombardi. This season would rank higher, but Ott's season
included just four pinch-hit at-bats, and Dean pitched only four innings.

5. 1983 (1,804-361)
Carl Yastrzemski, Johnny Bench and three pitchers -- Ferguson Jenkins,
Gaylord Perry and Jim Kaat -- who between them totaled 881 victories.

6. 2001 (1,439-360)
Even including Canseco, who's not going to get much support from the Hall
of Fame voters, there just isn't enough to justify placing this class at
the top of the list.

7. 1965 (1,091-364)
Only three players, but what a three players: Warren Spahn, Yogi Berra and
Nellie Fox. Berra, who hadn't played at all in 1964, saw action in four
games for the Mets and batted nine times.

8. 1945 (1,417-359)
World War II created opportunities for some old ballplayers, the most
notable being Jimmie Foxx, who joined the Phillies and played some first
base, some third base, and even pitched in nine games. Also bowing out in
1945 were Joe Cronin and the Waner brothers, Paul and Lloyd.

9. 1988 (1,932-276)
At the moment, Steve Carlton (366) and Don Sutton (319) are the only Hall
of Famers who played their last game in 1988. But they're joined by a
number of great players who have fallen short of Cooperstown for one reason
or another: Ted Simmons, Graig Nettles, Dave Concepcion, Ron Guidry and
Bruce Sutter.

10. 1986 (1,284-428)
Only three players, but two of them were Tony Perez and Pete Rose, and the
other was Tom Seaver, the best pitcher of the 1970s.

==========
Paranoid? No way, Jose!
By Jim Caple

News item: Retired slugger Jose Canseco claims he has been blackballed from
baseball, and he will strike back with a tell-all biography that blows the
whistle on players' steroid use and much more.

Page 2 has obtained an unedited copy of the manuscript to this book,
tentatively titled, "Bawl Forth: Bad Things About Everybody But Me."

Madonna
The Material Girl might be the most popular entertainer in the world, but
she's also the most vindictive, unforgiving woman I've ever known (with the
exception of my ex-wife).

I met Madonna after a game at Yankee Stadium in 1991, and we hit it right
off. Everything was going just great between us. I gave her tips for her
role in "A League of Their Own," and she even wanted me to appear in her
next video. She said no man had ever pleased her in bed the way I had. And
then I made one perfectly innocent remark about her "acting" in "Shanghai
Surprise" and that was it. She cut me off completely. She not only stopped
answering my calls, she changed her phone number and got a judge to issue a
restraining order against me.

So now I'm not allowed within 150 yards of her. But don't worry about that.
I wouldn't go within 150 miles of her. In fact, that's why I had to change
teams so many times in recent years. It had nothing to do with a slow bat
or recurring injuries or a bad attitude or anything they try to tell you. I
just have to leave town whenever she comes in on tour.

Bitch.

Mark McGwire
Don't even get Canseco started on McGwire's "curly mullet." Oh, sure. My
former Bash Brother is a card-carrying member of the All-Century team and
an American hero, but maybe he wouldn't be quite so revered if people knew
the awful truth about Big Mac like I do.

He never rewinds his videotapes before he returns them to Blockbuster. He
never puts the toilet seat down again. He doesn't separate his garbage for
recycling. He uses his cell phone while driving. And for most of the 1991
season, he was getting cable in his apartment without paying for it.

And fans consider him a hero?

State Highway Patrols
Watch out, America, Big Brother is not only watching you, he's pointing a
radar gun at your Lamborghini.

The police say they don't profile drivers or harass innocent people, but if
that's the case, how come I get pulled over for speeding at least half the
times I'm doing 120 on the freeway or as little as 83 in the city? And
people doubt that I've been blacklisted?

The abuse of power is a frightening thing. I mean, if a superstar like me
can be singled out for this sort of treatment, imagine what they could do
to the average, unimportant citizen.

George W. Bush
The leader of the free world? The most powerful man on the planet? The
defender of truth, justice and the American way? Ha! Don't make me laugh.

He's a petty politician who holds a grudge longer than an August
doubleheader in Arlington. Bush still won't forgive me for letting that
baseball bounce off my head for a home run when he owned the Rangers.
That's why he had Dick Cheney secretly order the 30 major-league teams not
to offer me a contract this year.

You would think the president of the United States would have something
more important to do, but how else would you explain the lack of interest
teams showed in me this spring?

Thomas Boswell
One of the game's finest writers or a disgrace to journalism? That's an
easy one for me. Boswell sank his profession to a new low in 1988 when he
wrote that I used steroids. It was shoddy, irresponsible journalism, and he
didn't offer a bit of evidence to back up his claim. The "National
Enquirer" wouldn't have printed that crap.

I would have sued him and the Washington Post for everything they had, and
I would have won the libel suit, except for one small detail:

I was using steroids.

Bud Selig
There is only one reason the commissioner of baseball, the man in charge of
his sport's welfare, would push for the elimination of two teams -- it cuts
down on the number of teams who could sign me. Naturally, Bud denies this,
but I'm not stupid. The handwriting on the wall is clear to whoever wants
to read it. Or do you think it was just coincidence that one of the teams
Bud talked about contracting (Montreal) just happened to be the team I
signed with last winter?

Of course, after those bastards released me at the end of spring training
when it was too late to catch on with another team, contraction would suit
them right.

Ozzie Canseco
Sure, I love him like a brother. But I can't help but wonder. If he hadn't
been in the same womb as me hogging our mother's nutrients during those
nine crucial months, maybe I could have been born even bigger and stronger,
and then maybe I wouldn't have gotten hurt so much and I would have 500
home runs -- no, 600! -- and be on my way to Cooperstown.

Mom and Dad always loved him more than me, too.

Jim Caple is a senior writer for ESPN.com. He can be reached at
cuffscaple@....

==========
From www.billy-ball.com:
May 21, 2002

Top of the 5th
UH-OH

Jose Canseco says 85% of all the players use steroids or supplements to
enhance their strength. But that’s not an issue for Barry “What Me Worry?”
Bonds, who as he has aged, apparently has become naturally more muscular.
"What players take doesn't matter," Bonds said. "It's nobody else's
business. The doctors should spend their time looking for cures for cancer.
It takes more than muscles to hit homers. If all those guys were using
stuff, how come they're not all hitting homers?"...