Cheating in Sports

With the controversy surrounding the Patriots recording the Jets defensive signals, a single, almost un-answerable question has developed: What is cheating?

This past week on ESPN, there was an awesome debate between analysts John Kruk and Mark Schlereth about the definition of cheating in their respective sports. Both made great points, explaining the different examples of cheating in each and how punishment is handed out. Kruk spoke of pitchers simply beaning batters when sign stealing was suspected, while Schlereth described the almost impossible ways to subtly cheat in a sport like football without completely crossing the line.

This got me thinking of the nearly hopeless wish of drawing a line between right and wrong with such a gray subject. Truly, nothing is black and white in either league’s rulebooks about the definition or description of “cheating.”

But, what I have discovered is that in this age of fast-twitch muscles and protein pills, the simple idea of technology can be that fine line, that barrier we need to classify what is “cheating” versus what isn’t.

While the Patriots are being harshly disciplined for their actions last Sunday against the rival Jets, America has glorified the ’51 Giants for the famous shot heard round the world. Don’t see the connection, or the contrast I am trying to make between the two? Well, what has been forgotten throughout the history of Bobby Thompson’s home-run and Russ Hodges’ remarkable call was the means by which the Giants got to that point. Throughout the season, Giants coach Herman Franks would sit in centerfield (the location of the clubhouse) and use binoculars and telescopes to steal the catcher’s signs, then relay them back into the batter using either the scoreboard or a bell and buzzer.

This same tradition continues to this day, as teams will assign bench players or coaches to sit on the steps, eyes constantly on the opposing dugout in an attempt to steal the manager’s calls. Players at second base will even take a bigger lead to get an angle to the catcher’s crotch, occasionally causing an amusing moment as the runner takes seconds to realize he has been picked off due to a lack of attention given to the mound.

Now, why is this type of cheating universally accepted throughout the league, while in the NFL a million dollars in fines are given out for the same type of actions. Why is this videotape any different than the 31 other teams with men with binoculars in the stands watching the opposing sideline. The simple answer: the technology.

Seriously, after days of thought on the matter, this has to be the solution. The 31 other teams have to steal the signs on the fly, no tape, no recording, nothing other than wit and ingenuity to use as aid. The Patriots, on the other hand, were able to pause, fast-forward, and rewind in the blink of an eye, able to match up plays with calls, signals with results. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to decipher those calls.

The same rule of technology applies to baseball. Technology and innovation is the difference between a pre-workout protein shake and a pre-workout shot in the ass. The difference between some spit and sandpaper on a ball causing it to sink versus an anabolic arm delivering 99mph heat. The difference between a little extra pine tar and a weight distribution on the bat compared to a bat swung by Barry Bonds.

So was the Patriots punishment deserved? I think so. Should they forfeit their three Super Bowl rings? Hell no. The same goes for the ’51 Giants. Was this Herman Franks fellow hanging out in centerfield crossing the line with his binoculars in one hand and beer in the other? No doubt. But in no way does that diminish the single greatest home run call of all-time.

Technology, in the end, will put that asterisk next to Barry Bonds and Mark McGwire, will add the “Hey, remember that one time with the camera…” on to any Patriots discussion, and will have no effect on the achievements compiled by the likes of Gaylord Perry, Joe Niekro, George Brett, or Whitey Ford.