Baseball's Legendary Substance Abuser Series

Jeff Allison

In the spring of 2003, high school senior Jeff Allison, "the pride of Peabody," lit up radar guns with his blistering 95 mph fastball and buckled knees with his hammer curve. New England isn't a region known for its ballplayers, but Allison, according to Baseball America, "shattered those stereotypes," and in 2003 the publication named him their High School Player of the Year. His final line looked looked like it came straight from a video game: a 9-0 record in 69 innings, with 142 K and just 9 BBs. His ERA? 0.00.

"His pitching motion is like you and I walking," said high school coach Ed Nizwantowski. "That's how easy it is."

Due to concerns over his signability, Allison fell to the Florida Marlins, who held the 16th overall pick; they awarded him a $1.85 million bonus, and were more than happy to cede to the demands of the lanky righty, who possessed a boatload of confidence to accompany his Puritan work ethic.

"I don't care where you're from," he said, bristling with working class pride. "I know where I'm from and I'm going to dominate you."

* * * * * *

Oxycontin, also known as OC, is a relatively new drug, first released in 1996 as a powerful, pain-killing prescription narcotic. It comes in pill form, and is supposed to be swallowed whole, with a time-release formula designed to slowly release the narcotics into the body. However, even chewing the pill can create a more intense high, while crushing and snorting it creates feelings of near-euphoria: walking turns into gliding, and worries disappear instantly. It could be 3 PM on a cold Wednesday afternoon, and you could be sitting in your third floor apartment in a triple-decker in Lynn, melted into your couch wearing nothing but boxers, in a room with scattered with empty beer cans and old pizza boxes--and still feel like the world is yours.

It soon caught on like wildfire in the Northeast, becoming the drug of choice for those who had dabbled in marijuana and Vicodin, but wanted a little bit more--and it was a prescription drug for pain, so it couldn't be that bad--or at least that was the mentality.

The problem with OxyContin: it's expensive, and extremely addictive. Even with a prescription, a bottle of 100 pills (40 mg/pill) costs roughly $400. Street value can be 8-10 times that--which boils down to about $40 a pill, or $1 per milligram of OC.

Recreational OC users became hooked, and for many what had started as a habit soon became a full-blown addiction that spiraled out of control. Nearly broke, users ultimately found themselves scouring the streets for a high that would produce the same effect. More often than not, they turned to a much cheaper and bountiful opiate: heroin.

* * * * * *

Jeff Allison first dabbled in Oxycontin while in high school, and he recalls instantly liking the feeling it produced: "You feel like you can do anything you want."

With a $1.85 million bonus, affording the drug was never a problem, and with his millions he burned a hole straight through his pocket, splurging on drugs and a tricked-out Cadillac Escalade. Soon local residents witnessed the Allison's Escalade around town, and raised their eyebrows as the vehicle rolled through shady parts of Lynn and Lowell. People had an idea of what was going on, and so did the Marlins, who placed their million dollar investment into a rehab center in Lowell during the 03-04 offseason.

After rehab, however, little changed for Allison, and he soon found himself mired in the throes of his addiction. It was in summer 2004--when the staties busted two of the region's most prominent OC suppliers--that the drug became nearly obsolete, forcing desperate OC users like Allison to turn to other drugs. It didn't matter how much money he had--OC's were simply off the streets and unavailable. One night, Allison and his friend Jimmy Leontakianakos drove to Lynn, where Allison purchased a $50 bag of heroin, and inserted a needle into his body for the first time.

He instantly overdosed, and his breathing stopped.

* * * * * *

Jeff Allison had a dream. In that dream, he looked into his hand, and saw a ball, but wanted something more. With all his might, he willed that sphere of white cowhide and red stitches into something even bigger--and sure enough, little continents began to form, and the milky hide turned a deep blue. Before he knew it, he held the Earth in the palm of his hand. He felt a burning in his chest, and became filled with pure ecstasy and power.

But all dreams must end. Jeff Allison woke up in a hospital bed, a hole in his arm, and looked into his right hand, only to watch the crushed powder of hundreds of pills falling to the ground through his sieve-like fingers.

And though he survived--revived by a team of doctors in the ER--his lasting legacy may utlimately be that of a fallen star--a pitcher who had everything in his grasp, but perhaps searched for more, only to see baseball slip away completely--leaving him behind, desperate and alone, a life fleeting and without purpose.

Beckett tonight

Expect nothing short of a masterpiece

Boston Legends Officially Retires #50

His camoflauge shirt is dripping with sweat and his arm is throbbing, like a ticking time bomb. “Black Betty”--Ram Jam’s one-hit wonder--blares throughout the park, this pitcher’s cue to gear up. He exits the bullpen, starting out in a stiff power walk before those creaky knees get up to full speed--the equivalent of a light jog. He should have retired years ago, but something just wouldn’t let him--must’ve been his Texas heart, pumping away with that cowboy bravado.

The bullpen’s empty now. It’s the 15th inning, and Tito’s exhausted all his options. This pitcher ignores all of this--his pride forces him to. His 7.68 ERA looms over the entire stadium--he can see it in all of them: in the umpires, whose faces are flushed with relief--they’ll be going home soon, and they know it; in the White Sox players, who are itching to get their swings in, grinning at this golden opportunity to pad their stats; and in the fans, who stream for the exits, a rarity for this die-hard bunch.

Born and raised in Midland, Texas, he’s spent forty-four long years on this Earth. And trust me, he’s seen it all. Now he’s just barely hanging on, re-signed this past off-season for strictly sentimental reasons. Out of respect. He’d earned it, you have to give him that much.

On the mound he takes a deep breath. Gonna be a long night, he can already tell before even throwing a warm up pitch. Tek tosses him the ball; the bat boy tosses him a tin. He tucks ball and glove under his right arm, calmly swipes at the little black puck of Skoal Mint Longcut with his index and middle fingers, and packs in a thick horseshoe. “Thanks, kid,” he nods.

The buzz hits him immediately after the fourth warm-up pitch, and his tense muscles relax, the unraveling of an ancient boa constrictor. Pock marks dot his face, but his cheeks feel warm--on fire, almost. He mutters a quick prayer, points to the sky, and kisses the cross on his necklace, then unbuttons the top button of his jersey, revealing an ratty army camo T. It doesn't matter what amount the commissioner's office will inevitably fine him--he'll pay it. Bring it.

Brian Anderson, the White Sox centerfielder, strides to the plate. Anderson is hitting .236, but instead of challenging him, for obvious reasons Tek is tentative: he sets up on the outer half of the plate and signals fastball. Back on the mound, the pitcher nods, takes a deep breath, rears back, and pumps an 88 mile-an-hour fastball, which glides across the inner half of the plate. It’s ripped foul. Anderson’s ahead of it. The next pitch, a badly-located cut fastball, is lined into center field for a single.

He wipes the back of his hand across his brow, leaving behind a streak of dirty sweat, and paces around the mound before toeing the rubber. After adjusting his hat, he spits a wad of chew and zeroes in on the next batter: Juan Uribe.

Uribe raps the first pitch down the line for a double. A rain of boos from the crowd. The next four batters are a blur: double, single, single, hit by a pitch. When the damage is done, Tito strides to the mound. Cora’s pitching.

Number 50 stoically retreats to the dugout with long, purposeful strides. Shouts of “Old Man River,” “Bum,” and “You SUCK” rain down from the Fenway Faithful—-but it all fails to register. He’s thinking about one thing, and one thing only: the cold six pack of Bud on ice by his locker. He’ll crack open a couple, pack another lip or two, and watch the rest of the game from here, wondering when—-if—-he could ever throw in the towel.

Mike Timlin--an ode to a legend.

“I’m not a super hunter. I’m an avid hunter. I enjoy being out amongst God’s creations” - MT

All-Steroids Team: Catcher

If you haven't read the introduction to Boston Legends' All-Steroids Team, you can find it here.

Todd Hundley

The choice for backstop was a tough one. Do we choose Benito Santiago, who had never had a 20 hr season before exploding for 30 in 1996, at age 31? Or perhaps Javy Lopez, another known 'roider who holds the single season record for catchers with 42? We passed both of these players over, as both were All-Stars before artificial enhancement, and both continued to be useful hitters after their breakout seasons. Hundley is a different story. He came up with the Mets at age as a much-heralded prospect, but his first years in the majors showed little power, despite great defense. He battled injuries and never quite put it together. Hundley's first 4 seasons (1992-1995) as an everyday player look like this (he had limited at-bats as a backup in '90 and '91):

Year	Age			G	PA	AB	R	H	2B		HR	RBI			BB	SO	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS
1992	23			123	390	358	32	75	17		7	32			19	76	.209	.256	.316	.572
1993	24			130	448	417	40	95	17		11	53			23	62	.228	.269	.357	.626
1994	25			91	323	291	45	69	10		16	42			25	73	.237	.303	.443	.746
1995	26			90	326	275	39	77	11		15	51			42	64	.280	.382	.484	.865

Home run totals of 7, 11, 16, and 15 in his first 4 years as a starter are certainly not the mark of a power hitter about to emerge as an MVP candidate, and Hundley appeared headed for an average career as a useful player, but not someone to build your lineup around. The next two years, however, saw Hundley set the single-season record for homers for a catcher (broken by Lopez 8 years later) and emerge as one of the most feared hitters in the game.

Year	Age			G	PA	AB	R	H	2B		HR	RBI			BB	SO	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS
1996	27			153	624	540	85	140	32		41	112			79	146	.259	.356	.550	.906									AS,MVP-18
1997	28			132	508	417	78	114	21		30	86			83	116	.273	.394	.549	.943									AS

Are you kidding me? Hundley more than doubled his career highs in home runs and RBIs in his 7th year in the majors at the same time baseball was entering the heart of the Steroid Era. A guy who had only had an OPS over .650 twice rips off two straight .900 OPS seasons? The obvious argument to make is that Hundley did have his career years at ages 27-28, generally considered the prime for a ballplayer. And it is true that his first 6 years in the majors saw his average and slugging improve each year, but the remainder of his career put to rest any doubts that this guy was 'roided out of his mind in '96-'97. He was plagued by injuries as his body broke down under the stress of unnaturally added muscle mass and never hit 25 home runs again, while only topping 55 RBIs once from 1998 to his retirement in 2003. After back-to-back All-Star appearances in '96-'97, he wasn't ever selected again. Hundley's inability to stay on the field after these two ridiculous seasons due to nagging stress injuries is a clear sign of steroid abuse.

When the Mitchell Report came out, it was no surprise to find Todd Hundley' featured prominently as not only a user, but someone who brought other players into the steroid fold. Paul Lo Duca and Eric Gagne are two of the players he introduced to PEDs after a trade to the Dodgers. After the '97 season, Hundley only topped 100 games once, and left the game in 2003 after going 6/33 with 13 strikeouts in 21 appearances as a backup. Steroids made, and then destroyed his career. This sort of legendary steroid abuse, coupled with beyond shitty years without the drugs and was forgotten by many, but he earns the spot at catcher on BL's All-Steroids team.