Do you know the way, Jose?

Canseco's latest trial adds to a life of tribulations

The latest chapter in the Canseco chronicles unfolded earlier this week when twin brothers Jose and Ozzie pled guilty to the felony battery charge that they beat up a couple of guys in Miami Beach on Halloween night a year ago. In August, Jose had rejected a plea option ("I'd rather spend 31 years in prison [the maximum time he faced] than lie and compromise myself," he said) but now he has agreed to accept three years probation, do 250 hours of community service and take classes on anger management. No word on what the Cansecos dressed up as that Halloween -- but I'm guessing it wasn't Mary Kate and Ashley.

So it turns out that there is a difference between Jose Canseco and Dave Kingman -- and it's not just that Jose could run. Both of these men will likely spend the rest of their days wondering how they could have hit so many long dongs (Kingman wound up with 442 home runs; Canseco with 462) and still not make the Hall of Fame. Canseco will wince when he remembers being bonked on the head by a fly ball in the outfield. Kingman will wince when he remembers the many times he was attacked by pop-ups near first base. And, lest they be confused with the likes of Cal Ripken and Tony Gwynn, they can both tell their grandkids that they each played for seven teams in a little more than 15 seasons.

Sure, Canseco had better game in his prime: He was baseball's first 40-40 player and won an MVP in 1988. But by the second half of his career (by the age of 29 he was relegated to being a full-time DH) Canseco was, like Kingman, a free-swinging, one-dimensional home run hitter; he batted .266 for his career to Kingman's .236. But Canseco also spent a lot of years on some great teams and had a cat named McGwire behind him in the batting order. Kingman, who clubbed homers a tad more frequently and struck out a bit less often than Canseco did, endured much of his career with the lowly late-'70s and early-'80s Mets.

The thing about Jose is that he will never stop making news, while Kingman only made the sports pages against his will. In a media sense they are polar opposites. Sky King, as Mets fans dubbed him, spent his playing days shunning (at best) or excoriating (at worst) reporters, and now carries on quietly in his home near Lake Tahoe. Canseco spent his career basking in whatever media glow came his way and believing every bit of his own hype -- and now can't seem to bear being out of the public eye.

For Canseco, the strangest part of this Miami Beach mayhem case may have been that several of the jurors didn't know who he was. When one inquired whether he had played football or baseball, Canseco, apparently shocked that anyone could be so ignorant of one of the world's great men, put his face in his hands and laughed.

Before this latest trial news Canseco had already enjoyed a busy year in the newspapers. In May, he announced he's working on a tell-all book about steroids and those who love them. Now, Canseco will be trading in some expert knowledge, which makes this a book anyone interested in baseball's drug store would want to read. If he reveals something, baseball could be better for it; not all Canseco news is bad news.

Even when he was setting his batting records and drawing paparazzi, Canseco discovered extra ways to draw attention. In 1993 he pitched in a game for the Rangers and even threw the knuckleball, which was enough to land him a few spectacular headlines -- and an arm injury.

It was only last spring that Canseco was clubbing home runs in Class AAA in a last-ditch (we think; he now says he's retired) effort to get himself into the majors. He didn't think that his dwindling production or his history of injuries had much to do with why he wasn't getting a shot in The Show and he implied that he was being "blackballed" and "conspired against" by the league. He was frustrated and hurt, he said, and it all must have seemed a long way from 1986, when he won Rookie of the Year with the Oakland A's and had a teammate named Dave Kingman.

Sports Illustrated senior writer Kostya Kennedy takes sides every Wednesday at CNNSI.com.

 

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