On Matt Harvey and Steroids

Steroids! They're bad, right? They're "performance-enhancing drugs," and the people who use PEDs are cheaters who should be suspended for lengthy periods of time, possibly given lifetime bans, and certainly not voted into the Hall of Fame even if they did flat-out goofy things at the plate like getting on base more than half the time over a four-year span while drawing more intentional walks than strikeouts. (Yeah.)

But... why?

Because, y'know, "performance-enhancing drug" doesn't really narrow it down. Here's a performance-enhancing drug: water. Athletes who consume H2O on a regular basis will perform considerably better than those who don't, on account of those other guys being, y'know, dead. Maybe you say water isn't a drug, but "drug" actually has a remarkably broad definition: it's basically any chemical substance that has a physiological effect on you. Water definitely has one of those! And if that seems a rather trivial example, consider something like the Gatorade found in clubhouses, which is pretty deliberately chemically engineered to enhance performance as much as possible. I'm pretty sure they advertise about that, electrolytes and such. We want our athletes consuming chemical substances that are designed to enhance their performance. They're supposed to want to be good, after all. So what demarcates a "PED" as such?

There is, of course, an answer: a PED of the sort we like to ban is bad for you. There aren't a lot of downsides to drinking water. As far as I know there aren't major downsides to the electrolytes in Gatorade. There are, however, serious downsides to anabolic steroids, and other PEDs. These sorts of drugs essentially give players the opportunity to trade their own health for a performance enhancement. Perhaps in the abstract if each individual player could make that decision in a vacuum we might, in a nice, non-paternalistic way, let them, but of course the world doesn't work like that. There's a ton of pressure on players to be the best that they can, both because they want their teams to succeed blah blah blah and because, y'know, it gets them paid. And so in a world with a whole bunch of drugs offering health/performance trade-offs, we worry, sensibly, that everyone is going to be pressured into making those trade-offs, and we don't like that. It's sort of like how each individual worker has an incentive to offer to work for less than the other guy: it's individually rational but collectively disastrous. So we have minimum wage laws and PED bans designed to prevent these pressures from forcing everyone to give away their own welfare in an effort to out-compete the other guy.

So that's it, right? Competition is all very well and good and everyone should try to be the best, but you're not allowed to trade your own physical well-being for an edge on the field?

Rubbish. Of course you are. Hell, you're supposed to. We valorize people who do this, if they do it the right way.

Intent and Utley

So. The Mets just lost the second game of the National League Championship Series to the Los Angeles Dodgers. The critical moment of the game came in the 7th inning. The Mets led 2-1, but the Dodgers had a runner at second when Chase Utley came in to pinch-hit against Noah Syndergaard. Syndergaard was clearly tiring, and Utley managed to get just enough bat on a low change-up to line it over Daniel Murphy's head into right field. Fortunately the runner from second had to hold up to make sure it wasn't caught, and so didn't score. Then Terry Collins brought in Bartolo Colon to relieve Syndergaard, and he induced a hard ground ball up the middle from Corey Seager. Murphy gloved it and flipped to Ruben Tejada, a little off-line. Tejada had to reach back for the ball as he was shuffling over to the second base bag, and then as he was spinning around to throw the ball to first Utley slammed into him, knocking him to the ground and, it transpired, breaking his fibula. Meanwhile, since the double play hadn't been completed, the runner from third scored, and the game was tied at 2.

Ensued a truly bizarre sequence of events. While Tejada was lying on the ground in agony, Dodgers manager Don Mattingly came out and challenged the out call at second, on the grounds that Tejada hadn't touched the bag. Which, I think, he hadn't. But first of all it should've been ruled a neighborhood play, and hence not subject to review; MLB's claim that the throw pulled Tejada off the bag, and hence was reviewable, is nonsense 'cause Tejada caught the ball while he was still headed toward the bag. "Pulled off the bag" clearly implies that you are on the bag, and then an errant throw forces you to come off said bag. Second, I feel like you shouldn't be allowed to challenge on a play where your player seriously injured an opposing player. Of course, totally predictably, Adrian Gonzalez then hit a two-run double, and then Justin Turner drove him in for good measure, making it 5-2 Dodgers. That was all the scoring in the game.

My point in this post is not about what the correct disposition of the ruling on the play should have been. (Because that's obvious: it was interference, and should have been ruled an automatic double play, inning over, Mets still leading. That's not homerism; the announcers on MLB Network were saying the same thing.) Rather, I want to talk about intent. Because Chase Utley, after the game, said that he had no intent to injure Tejada, and his manager said the same thing. But you see, I'm a law student, so I know a little something about intent. The criminal law deals with different varieties of intent all the time. And if you use the criminal law framework to judge Utley, he doesn't come out looking good.