OAKLAND, Calif. — Selected by the A’s in the 15th round of the 1982 draft, Jose Canseco’s first pro contract came with a $10,000 bonus. Thirty years, 462 big league home runs and $45 million in salary later, he’d work for less.
You say he’s stalking the spotlight and hasn’t figured out the futility of this hunt.
He says he’s chasing his own personal dream. And that it’s his right to do so.
The next phase of Canseco’s pursuit brings him to the roots of his glory. He’s making an appearance Saturday evening at Banner Island Ballpark, the home of Oakland’s Single-A affiliate in Stockton.
He’ll throw out the ceremonial first pitch for the Ports, whose ownership operates independently from the big club. He’ll sign autographs. He’ll be tall and sculpted and well-tanned. He’ll be VIP for a night.
“It’ll be a lot of memories, a lot of fun,” he says over the phone while navigating the streets of greater Boston. “I have a lot fans there, and a lot of people will have a great opportunity to come by and say hi.”
Yes, folks, come out and say hello to Jose Canseco, an enduring curiosity whose adult life has thus far been defined by four acts.
Act I: Jose as the young, handsome baseball phenom, an Oakland A’s outfielder with unlimited potential, a muscular slugger with mythical power.
Act II: Jose as the gracelessly aging veteran, a vagabond hopping from town to town and team to team, whose skills so deteriorated he once had a batted ball bounce off his head and over the fence.
Act III: Jose as baseball’s mobile whistle-blower, an admitted abuser of performance-enhancing drugs going straight, vowing to expose his fellow cheats and clean up the game — for a profit.
Act IV: Canseco as the retired ballplayer who lives on personal appearances at various locations across the country signing autographs or posing for photographs or starring in reality TV shows or otherwise fulfilling the role of celebrity for rent.
So of course Canseco has regrets. Of course he yearns to go back in time. He does not wish to be living this life, still chasing the dream he once knew so well. Not at age 47.
If he could, he would rewind the years, return to Act I, and this time listen to and heed the solemn voices of the ethical.
“I’d definitely not use steroids — that’s for sure,” he says. “That’s the big thing. If I was told, ’Don’t use steroids’ and ’They’re illegal,’ I definitely would’ve never used ’em.
“I had a lot of natural talent. As a matter of fact, the year that I hit the most home runs (46 in 1998), I was not using steroids at all. I was 229 pounds. I had 100 RBIs and 29 stolen bases and still hit 46 home runs. So I definitely believe steroids are overrated.”
It is as if he is constantly mocked by his wayward youth — a youth lavish with promise.