The player grinned, said, "This is off the record," and showed me his baseball cap. Underneath the bill was a smear of pine tar. "Just for a little extra grip," he said, and grinned again.
I won't reveal the identity of the player, because the conversation was, indeed, off the record, but a prominent major league pitcher felt comfortable displaying the method by which he attained a better grip tells you a lot about cheating in baseball, and in all sports.
For much of modern sports history, cheating bordered on the quaint. Maybe a hockey player played with a slightly too-curved stick, or a cornerback's hands dripped adhesive goo. Maybe a pitcher added a dab of Vaseline to the ball to make it dive, or a catcher deftly scuffed the ball before throwing it back.
Hitters corked their bats, which is not scientifically proven to produce better results. Football players attained unprecedented combinations of speed and power by taking performance-enhancing drugs, and nobody seemed to care much, because, you know, both sides did it and, man, look at those guys run.
Unless a player or team was conspiring to throw a game, cheating in sports rarely seemed to matter much until inflated versions of Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds destroyed baseball's single-season home run record. That was the tipping point for most fans: Obvious cheating leading to the toppling of glorified records.
We should be reaching another tipping point.
The Houston Astros won a World Series while cheating.
The New England Patriots have won multiple Super Bowls while cheating.