Strawberry's cocaine struggles say much about life in the public

By Ethan A. Nadelmann

Darryl Strawberry seems to have a hard time just saying no to cocaine.

My first thought was: what's the matter with him? Can't he just say no, if only for
the few more years that his knees hold out? He sure must like cocaine a lot.

My second thought was: Gee, Strawberry sure is lucky he's rich and famous and that
all sorts of people like George Steinbrenner care about him, because if he were
poor and not famous, odds are that he'd be sitting behind bars right now, probably
for violating probation or parole.

This country is full of people whose only offense is an inability to say no to
cocaine. Some go to fancy rehabs; some sort it out at home, and the unlucky ones
get to think it over in jail.

My third thought was: Strawberry's addicted. He's got a disease or a disability.

This is not a case of moral weakness but of metabolic dysfunction. We don't punish
folk for their diseases or disabilities. If anything, we try to make accommodations
for their disabilities so long as they don't pose direct threats to others.

If we really believe that drug addiction is a disease, then there is no ethical or
medical justification for depriving him of his livelihood for manifesting a symptom
of the disease. Moreover, why in this case do we always blame the patient? Maybe
the fault lies with the treatment provider.

My fourth thought was: Damn hypocrites! Strawberry can't seem to say no to cocaine,
but who isn't addicted to one thing or another? Think about cigarettes.

How many people have quit, and quit again, and again, and again? Some really do
quit, but they still cheat every once in a while. Can't relate to cigarettes? Think
about coffee. Imagine abstaining from that wonderful drug day after day after day,
even on those mornings when nothing in the world would seem more pleasurable than a
delicious hot cup of coffee.

Can't relate to that one? Then think about dieting, and about saying no to bread
day after day after day. Who doesn't cheat? Who isn't addicted to something? Sure,
cocaine is different. But what's most different about cocaine is not the nature of
the experience, or the behavior associated with it, but the fact that it is illegal
and the others are not.

My fifth thought was: What exactly is the point of the punishment? Almost
everything we've learned about drug use and addiction is that a good job and a
supportive environment are crucially important in enabling people to say no to
drugs, or at least to keep their drug use under control. Strawberry's job as a
major league ballplayer, responsible to his fans, teammates and employer, provided
powerful incentives for him to keep his cocaine use under control.

He may have slipped up in the off season, even repeatedly, but no one doubts this
man's courage and fortitude. So what exactly is the point of suspending him from
baseball? Is the punishment supposed to be a form of treatment? Or the treatment a
form of punishment? Or can we no longer tell the difference?

My sixth thought was: Why don't they just leave the guy alone? No one's suggested
that Darryl's cocaine use gave him an unfair advantage over his competitors. And no
one's claimed that his drug use posed a threat to others on the ballfield. Indeed,
and perhaps I am wrong, no one has even charged that he was impaired at the
workplace. Seems to me that Darryl's cocaine use was none of anyone else's business
- apart from the laws and policies and contracts that make this domain of private
behavior supposedly everyone's business.

My seventh thought was: Perhaps professional baseball, and all professional sports,
would be better off without any drug testing whatsoever - except perhaps for
performance enhancing substances. What's the point? Few employees work in more
public places. If they are impaired, people will notice, and managers will deal
with it, quickly. If they're not impaired, and don't pose a safety threat to
others, who cares if they are using one drug or another.

"But they're role models for young people," some say. If that's true, then why does
the system insist on broadcasting their vices and frailties? It's hard enough
living the life of a hero, constantly in the public eye, without having your urine
tested and your results announced to the world. If we're running short on heroes
these days, maybe it's because we no longer respect their privacy, and their
humanity, enough to let them be heros.

I'll tell you when Darryl Strawberry became my hero. I'm a Yankee fan, not a Mets
fan, so it wasn't until quite recently: Oct. 17, 1999, to be exact, Game 4 of the
American League Championship Series, at Boston's Fenway Park.

According to the New York Times' Buster Olney: "When Strawberry came to bat for the
first time, the Fenway Park fans offered a new and different chorus for the slugger
with the history of drugs and alcohol - 'Just Say No.' Boston's Bret Saberhagen
threw a high fastball and Strawberry rattled a high drive two-thirds of the way up
the right-field foul pole for a home run. It was the last time the hearty singers
serenaded Strawberry on this evening."

It reminded me of another hero of mine who wasn't good at just saying no, Babe
Ruth. He too broke the prohibition laws of the day with alacrity - but no one ever
thought to test his urine. Good thing for him. Good thing for us.

_____

Ethan A. Nadelmann is director of the Lindesmith Center ( www.lindesmith.org
<http://www.lindesmith.org>), a drug policy institute with offices in New York and
San Francisco.

Read the full story at the address below:
http://www.phillynews.com/inquirer/2000/Mar/09/opinion/NADELMANN09.htm

or
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