We’ve all known that the road could lead to this juncture, yet we hoped it would not. So it’s easy to be disappointed but hard to be surprised at the revelation via his leaked BALCO grand-jury testimony that Yankee first baseman Jason Giambi used illegal steroids. As I’ve defended him over the past year, it’s been because I believe in the concept of due process, and that there’s a big difference between even an ever-tightening noose of circumstantial evidence — his call to testify, his decline over the past few years, his health troubles this past summer — and a smoking gun. That distinction has been lost on too many so-called “journalists” who have written about Giambi in that timeframe; as blogger Derek Jacques wrote, he’s been vulnerable to “a character assassination by any hack who’ll step to the plate.”

But now we have that smoking gun. And while it should matter more that the weapon in question was obtained by an illegal leak of sealed testimony, there’s simply no way to stuff the genie back into its lamp at this juncture. Giambi’s revelation may not be legally admissible, but it’s enough to convict him both in the court of public opinion and, perhaps, in the corridors of baseball’s power structure.

What I am most surprised about is the candor of Giambi’s testimony relative to that of Barry Bonds and Gary Sheffield, the two other high-profile ballplayers. While both Bonds and Shef denied knowing that what they were using were in fact illegal substances (with lesser or greater believability), Giambi has admitted that he had already knowingly used an injectible steroid by the time he crossed paths with Bonds’ personal trainer, Greg Anderson, who supplied him with “the Clear” and “the Cream,” the two previously undetectable substances at the center of the BALCO debacle. From the San Francisco Chronicle article reporting Giambi’s testimony:

In his testimony, Giambi described how he had used syringes to inject human growth hormone into his stomach and testosterone into his buttocks. Giambi also said he had taken “undetectable” steroids known as “the clear” and “the cream” — one a liquid administered by placing a few drops under the tongue, the other a testosterone-based balm rubbed onto the body.

The 33-year-old Yankee said Anderson had provided him with all of the drugs except for human growth hormone, which he said he had obtained at a Las Vegas gym. Anderson also provided him syringes, Giambi said.

At this point, I’m sad for Giambi rather than morally outraged, as he’s simply the tip of a huge, huge iceberg, a convenient scapegoat at which MLB and the media can now point fingers with the full confidence of his culpability. As I read the news on Thursday morning, I fired off an email to a few friends. “Pass the Match-Lite,” I wrote, “MLB can’t touch him, but the dude is going to get fucking barbecued. In the words of Hunter S. Thompson, the hog is in the tunnel, the fat is in the fire.”

My lack of outrage stems from the fact that while I don’t condone the use of illegal performance enhancers, I’m uncomfortable with the potential violations of privacy involved with testing (violations which we’ve see are not merely hypothetical), and I view the MLB Players’ Association’s reluctance to endorse a testing policy before this year as simply a card that they haven’t had to play. As I wrote back in March:

While I want to see the game I’m so passionate about come up with a sensible way to handle the problem, I see the failure to do already in the context of a labor-versus-management war that has waged continuously for the past 35 years. The owners have historically shown a strong aversion to bargaining in good faith and produced union-busting tactics such as collusion and replacement players, and they’ve offered up a general dishonesty about the game’s financial state as well. None of this justifies the players’ use of such substances, but the owners’ actions haven’t engendered the kind of trust necessary for the Major League Baseball Players Association to join the owners in constructing an effective and proactive means of combatting their usage either. While the players’ conduct in this matter hasn’t ben exemplary, their hands have yet to be forced, and the MLBPA didn’t get to be the most powerful labor union in history by selling out its rank and file just to appease a casual fan’s notion that everything was a chemical-free hunky dory.

So rather than outrage, my first thought as the news broke was simply, “void his contract.” I spend a lot of time studying the Yankee payroll, and I’ve referred to Giambi’s portion of it as an albatross whether or not he’s able to regain some semblance of his former productivity. As the market has shifted dramatically and it’s become increasingly clear that Giambi’s body is breaking down, the contract (seven years, $120 million, signed in December 2001) looks worse and worse:

Age/Year  $(Base + S.B)   WARP3  MDMW

31/2002   8.0 + 3.0       10.9   0.98

32/2003   9.0 + 4.0        7.9   1.61

33/2004  10.0 + 4.0        1.1  13.36

34/2005  11.0 + 4.5 

35/2006  18.0 + 1.0 

36/2007  21.0 + 0.5 

37/2008  21.0 

38/2009  22.0/5.0 buyout 

total   120.0 minimum

The dollar amounts are in millions, of course. S.B. is the signing bonus, broken down based on the info here. MDMW stands for “marginal dollars per marginal win,” calculated as Giambi’s salary minus the minimum divided by win above replacement level. In 2002, the Yanks paid just under a million dollars per win above replacement for Giambi. In 2003, that figure rose to over 60 percent to about 1.6 million per win, and in 2004, well, it’s an ugly $13.4 mil per win. Over the three years, the Yanks have paid $1.86 million per win, already a high figure — that’s like paying $18.6 million for a player who’s 10 wins above replacement, obscene dollars for a level that’s All-Star but not MVP in productivity. That’s a figure that’s unlikely to improve; to beat that in 2005, Giambi would have to put up 8.7 WARP, which might be attainable if the lights are with him all the way, but it’s up to 10 WARP for a 35-year-old G in 2006, and 11.4 WARP for a 36-year old in ’07. Absent some magic potions — the problem to begin with, of course — that isn’t going to happen, and so any above-the-board opportunity for the team to get out of this deal (as opposed to some Howard Spira-type dirt-digging) should be pursued.

Whether the Yanks can remove Giambi from their rolls completely or simply use their leverage to negotiate a buyout, any of the remaining $82 million they can free up is essentially house money. But doing so won’t be easy for a number of reasons. As ESPN’s Jayson Stark has pointed out, there are two clauses in the Uniform Player Contract which may apply here:

• The player must agree to keep himself in first-class physical condition and adhere to all training rules set by the club.

• The use or misuse of illegal or prescription drugs can be interpreted to mean the player is not keeping himself in first-class physical condition.

But one problem the Yankees will face in their quest to void the contract, a quest that’s already underway, is that Giambi’s admission has been leaked from sealed testimony under a guarantee of immunity and a promise of confidentiality; only if he’s called to testify in a trial or if it’s submitted as evidence in same is it supposed to be public knowledge, and there’s no grounds for legal punishment. Baseball can’t discipline him under its drug policy because he hasn’t tested positive, though Commissioner Bud Selig could invoke his broad “best interests of baseball” powers. That would be a sure ticket to a showdown with the players’ union, adding yet another ring to this already-growing circus.

For those reasons, the New York Times‘ Jack Curry suggests the buyout path may be more palatable:

A buyout could be attractive for the Yankees because it would sidestep the fact that Giambi’s admission of illegal steroid use, contained in an article in The San Francisco Chronicle about Giambi’s purported grand jury testimony in the Balco case, amounts to hearsay at this point and carries no legal heft.

On the other hand, any buyout plan would have to win the approval of the Major League Baseball Players Association, and that might not be possible, no matter what the terms.

… The union’s approval of any Giambi buyout would be needed because it would represent a devaluation of an existing contract, as was the case with [Alex] Rodriguez [in the failed negotiations which would have sent him to Boston last winter]. And a devaluation cannot occur without the union’s approval, regardless of the player’s desire.

If the Yankees no longer wanted Giambi, the union would undoubtedly maintain that the club should simply release him and pay him the remainder of his contract. Giambi would then be free to sign with any team he wanted, with that team owing him only baseball’s minimum salary.

Getting back to the UPC, the Yanks can pursue their case along the lines of what Curry is reporting:

For the moment, the Yankees are incensed with Giambi. A baseball official who was briefed on a meeting between the Yankees and the commissioner’s office on Thursday said the Yankees felt Giambi misled the team’s medical staff while he was being treated for an intestinal parasite and a pituitary tumor last season. The official said the Yankees told the commissioner’s office that the team questioned Giambi about possible use of steroids and that he denied using them, which had an impact on the medical treatment he received.

In our little email coffee klatch, my brother (a frequent and intelligent contributor to the comments section of this site) pointed out the inherent contradiction of the Yanks pursuing some recourse against Giambi when they never attempted to discipline Sheffield. But the two cases aren’t parallel for a number of reasons. First, there’s a significant contrast to their culpability in their own testimony, and to their levels of admitted involvement in the use of illegal substances. Second, there is little to suggest that the time Sheffield missed in his lone season with the Yanks was due to that steroid use, though the man’s spotty injury history over the course of his career certainly invites speculation as to whether his vulnerability to injury was chemically related. On the other hand, there are now well-connected dots regarding Giambi’s time missed while under contract with the Yankees, especially with regards to his medical treatment last summer, hence the team’s desire to terminate the deal.

Ugh. Enough of this distasteful subject for now. I’m ass-deep in three separate research projects at the moment, two for Baseball Prospectus (one is another Hall of Fame ballot rundown using the Jaffe WARP3 Scores — JAWS — while the other is… something very cool that I can’t divulge yet), plus one for this site on the Yankee bullpen, and I’ve got to knock at least one of them down before I head off to Anaheim for the Winter Meetings. And don’t even get me started on how much wedding-related stuff I have to get done before the holidays…