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THE BOYS OF BASEBALL They are hard to miss, the boys of baseball, grown men wearing business coats and baseball caps for their team of choice, still little boys dreaming of homeruns and balls hit out of the park. Some of them grow up to be fans, still collectin baseball cards and autographs of games they once watched, players they once met, look at men that made "the dream" happen, as heroes, while once-upon-a-childhood-game stars are slipping away from the horizon of baseball's beginnings. Few fans attended Union Station's DC Lottery sponsored exhibit of the historic Negro League. "Bud" was there with just enough handshakes to make him feel remembered, sad as it was. Willie Mays' transitioned from being a name on children's lips to becoming an Ebay icon. Mickey Mantle is someone some dads talk about, if they are old enough to remember. With all-time-records on the "Field of Dreams" smashed, men who built baseball's foundation, are eclipsed by illegal drugs one man admitted to in a tell-all book, "Juiced." His peers, owners of World Series rings, sitting down table from the author at a Congressional hearing discussing steroids. One denied its use, emphatically; another, avoided answering saying he wanted the past to be just that, past. Days before, DC news photos showed turf being laid at RFK Stadium. Baseball was back on the front lawn of the Capitol after a three decade hiatus. Rumor ran the President would toss out the ball at the opening game. Or Eleanor Holmes Norton, a third generation Washingtonian, an 8 term District of Columbia Congresswoman. The one place she was not, was in the Hearing room, it seemed the world wanted to get into, 2154, of the Rayburn building in Washington, DC. As lines formed outside the House Government Reform Committee room, Eleanor was scurrying up and down the halls of the Capitol on Thursday, working. People stood shoulder to shoulder for hours hoping to be one of the lucky ones to watch four of baseballs heavy hitters testify. The hearings began, as did House members gushing their love for a game that meant much to them since they were kids collecting cards. All the representatives seats were filled. Staffers stood and kneeled nearby, quite a contrast to the UNWRA hearings discussing the "Food For Oil" thefts. 90% of that hearing room's seats were empty. Floor and sidewalls were packed with media from around the world. Something to be said about celebrity as a drawing card in mall stores and Congress. Photographers sat three deep in front of the witness table for Session Three. Sessions 1,2 and 4, could have had a knuckleball thrown down the aisle with no one hit. Session 1 was the testimony of Senator Jim Bunning, Republican, Kentucky, a Hall of Fame pitcher who played for Detroit and Philadelphia. Session 2 was more of the same. Session 4, was when Commissioner Bud Selig and the union's executive director, Don Fehr, spoke. As predicted by the Media handlers, when Session 4 rolled around, photographers and video crews would not need to follow rotation. The place would be empty, not caring that Selig testified to the committee, "We've told the union that we are going to suspend the players and their names will be made public. And our owners voted 30-0 in favor of it." It was all about getting the players' "swearing in shot." Session 3 was the celebrities. Sitting, hearing left to right, Jose Canseco, Sammy Sosa, Mark McGwire, Rafael Palmeiro and Curt Schilling. Once upon a time, these grown up baseball players were boys of baseball. That was many years ago when they played little league and sandlot. Looking at Canseco's tear framed eyes, it was hard to believe he once played a game, little boys and girls echo backside of Rayburn, in the parks of DC, Little League, plastic trophies and dreams that brought this towering man to admit, to make box office he broke laws the House called him to tell about. The players' prowess matured them into highly profiled and paid athletes. Now, they were accountable as role models using performance enhancing drugs influencing youth. They don't want to be role models, they say, just play ball. Unfortunately, the same media sitting before them on the floor and behind them in the seats, make them public property who don't complain about World Series rings, high profile lifestyles, wives and opportunities to pursue so-called reality TV shows providing vignettes into what it is like to drive a fancy car, live in a big house with a drop dead gorgeous woman, courtesy of their super-athletic achievements. The drug on the Congressional table was steroids. The Committee seemed blindered to the performance enhancing drug of tomorrow, already out available or under development. Curt Schilling asked, and was granted special favour to enter the hearing room prior to the proceedings. Before being placed under oath, Mr. Schilling read his statement then proceeded to leave because he didn't want to be around Jose Canseco. Things run differently in Hearing Rooms then they do on the baseball field. Players do what Congressmen tell them not the Commissioner. Schilling and his companion were escorted back to the witness table. Each witness was allowed three chairs, one for themselves. Attornies, it seemed, filled the other two. The other players entered the room in order of their seat designation, Palmeiro, McGwire, Sosa and Canseco. Coaches accused of telling two young men to take steroids were not called to the hearing to testify. The whipping boys, for the societal failure one father alluded to, where the wealthy strangers their sons looked up to as role models. Canseco's eyes were oddly red. Maybe big men, whose peers call them liars, do cry. Canseco, under oath, was clear he could not testify because of charges pending against him. Sosa's statement, a story of his childhood passion for a game he grew to profit in, was read by his attorney. Media had been told to expect an interpreter. Sosa, then, quite eloquently in English, told the Commission, he will support the Commission's endeavors. Palmeiro, angered at being accused of taking steroids in Canseco's tell-all-book-about-baseball, punched his forefinger at the Commission. "I never used steroids. Period." "I don't know how to say it more clearly than that. Never. The reference to me in Mr. Canseco's book is absolutely false." Schilling, took his oath to tell the truth, admitted nothing but said, "I am saddened that the media and others have chosen to focus on the names in the book rather than the real culprit behind the issue." "MLB did nothing to take it out of the sport. Baseball owners and the players' union ... turned a blind eye to the clear evidence of steroid use in baseball." McGwire, Canseco's former teammate on the Oakland A's, was tearful addressing the sport he retired from. He refused to name names to the Committee, "My lawyers have advised me that I cannot answer these questions without jeopardizing my friends, my family or myself. I intend to follow their advice." The first player in history to hit 70 home runs, said, "I'm not here to talk about the past. I'm here to be positive and talk about the present and the future." McGwire repeatedly refused to say if drugs fuelled his prodigious home runs that brought interest back to the beleagured sport. He and Sosa were widely credited with restoring baseball's popularity when they chased Roger Maris' season record of 61 homers, 1998. McGwire ended with 70, a mark that lasted three seasons. Then, San Francisco Giants, Barry Bonds, hit 73. "Drug-Free Kids: America's Challenge" president Joyce Nalepka provided media with a handout titled "Hang up the drugs or hang up the uniform" which included an explanation single parents "and parents with two jobs leave children with too much unsupervised time," also citing a recent student-led meeting in McLean, Virginia with a recurring theme "Where are all the adults?" Witness Donald Hooton's son Taylor hung himself when he was 17. Taylor used steroids. Another father and mother testified their son's coach told him, as tall and cut as he was, he wasn't big enough for sports, needing steroids. Despondent, the young man shot himself, age 24. A bereaved, related to a Cub's player, said he and his wife did not recognize steroids was having effects on their son. They knew he was taking illegal drugs. As did the boy's doctor. No parent talked about "the dream," playing well no matter how artificially supported, scholarship, college awards and one day sharing the fame and fortune the four men being called before the Congress have. Somehow, loss of the real American dream, growing up to be like Dad, was left out of the equation as to why society supports this drug. Kevin, 48 years old cab driver from South East DC, did not testify at the Hearings on the Hill. He was driving his cab on the streets trying to make ends meet. Himself, a boy of summer, his opinion balanced testimony from the stars. "Why wasn't Bond's there?" he asked during the ride from 1st to 14th Street, demanding to know why a black role model was not called up to set an example for the kids he lives amidst. "You had a white man, Hispanic but why not a black man? Barry Bonds," he said, "owes it to the black youth of today to teach them about sports without drugs," referencing Bond's claim he did not know what he was using steroids because they were given to him. Kevin suggested blacks were left out of the opportunity to become part of the landmark rainbow of leaders for youthful athletes because blacks may have called race into the issue as a negative rather than a chance to make a difference. "I don't hear my friends asking this question when we talk. It's just my thoughts." Kevin wanted to know why Hank Aaron, the man voted 14th-best athlete of century, is silent on steroids. "Too quiet," for Kevin's tastes, he said, wanting Hank Aaron to speak out against the men who smashed his records, suggesting the brotherhood of the game is more important than its integrity. Aaron hammered his way into the record book for knocking in the most runs (2,297), total bases (6,856) and extra-base hits (1,477). The only player to hit at least 30 homers in 15 seasons, 20 homers in 20 seasons, he hit at least 40 homers eight times, with a career-best of 47. Aaron, the first player to reach 3,000 hits and 500 homers, led the National League in homers and RBI four times each and played in 24 All-Star Games. Kevin thinks Aaron should lead the fight against steroids. 6 foot tall, 190 pounds, Aaron was not a heavy man. Key to his cracking the ball like a buggy whip was his wrists. Powerful. Supple. "Without steroids," Kevin said, Aaron's records might still stand and he would still be one of the greatest players of all times. "Wish Aaron would tell kids they aren't records if it is drugs that make the records happen." Tommy Lasorda, when interviewed, had a different spin on the day, as did Sgt. Shaft and Jack. Lasorda wanted to know why baseball was being singled out amongst from other sports. Possibly the potential for Congress to yank the sports anti-trust exemption. Sarge and Jack just want Hall of Famer Ted William's back, to put a hero of the sport to rest. William's body is at Alcor Life Extension Foundation, a cryogenics lab in Phoenix, Arizona. William's son from a second marriage put him there, frozen, headless, waiting to be revived or, in the least, to sell his DNA if William's body doesn't rot first. The Splendid Splinter, the last major leaguer to bat over .400 in a season, wanted to be cremated. William's daughter is fighting to do just that, give the cleanup hitter who holds the Cadillac of baseball records who retired to a life of fishing, one last run to his final home. Kevin said, the day before media publicised the suggestion National's team players aught to wear patches stating the District's motto, "Taxation Without Representation," "the best thing to happen to baseball is the Congressmen and Senators getting a team." "Won't let the game die." Maybe, the uniforms should pay homage, but to Willie Nelson's song "Momma, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys, don't let 'em pick guitars and drive them old trucks make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such." and not let them grow up to be ballplayers until Ted Williams, the itinerant gentleman, can be brought back to life, the first cryonics revival attempt being 2040 or 2050, if baseball can survive steroids and scandal until then. DNA, anyone... BIO: Carrie Devorah is an award winning investigative photojournalist based in Washington DC. Devorah photographed international horseracing, another beleagured sport. "I think the two sports should be combined, run innings between sprints, maybe then the sports can survive... better yet, play baseball on horseback," smiling, "Oh yes, that's called polo."