Steroids In Sports Quotes

If judging people on first impressions were an Olympic sport, they'd suspect me of using steroids.

Perhaps that wasn't the brightest parenting decision that I've made in the last ten years." -- (From TRADING MANNY, on letting my 7-year old son emulate Manny Ramirez)

Have you thought about why, in the UK and Ireland, we can't stop men who identify as women from competing in women's sporting events, becoming Women's Officers and winning 'woman of the year' awards, but women who identify as men still can't inherit peerages or become catholic priests? It's because this ideology you are caught up in is patriarchy on steroids, designed to rig the game even more to women's disadvantage.

sin attacks and degrades our humanity. It makes us less human, not more.2 By not sinning, Jesus is more human than we are. He’s less like an athlete using steroids, and more like an athlete who never ate Twinkies. Less like an adult competing against kindergartners, and more like an adult who actually trained because she enjoys the sport—while we sat around all year, watching TV, eating potato chips, and didn’t even bother to show up to the race. Jesus doesn’t use a superhuman advantage to win; he refuses the inhumanity we all participate in.

Baseball may be called the national pastime, but it survives on the sentimentality of middle-age men who wistfully dream of playing catch with their fathers and sons. Football, with its dull stoppages, lost its military-industrial relevance with the end of the Cold War, and has become as tired and predictable in performance as it is in political metaphor. The professional game floats on an ocean of gambling, the players' steroid-laced bodies having outgrown their muscular and skeletal carriages. Biceps rip from their moorings, ankles break on simple pivots. Achilles' tendons shrivel like slugs doused with salt. Soccer and basketball are the only mainstream sports that truly plug into the modem-pulse of a dot-com society. Soccer is perfectly suited for a country of the hamster-treadmill pace, the remote-control zap and the national attention deficit—two 45-minute halves, the clock never stops, no commercial interruptions, the final whistle blows in less than two hours. It is a fluid game of systemized chaos that, no matter how tightly scripted by coaches, cannot be regulated any more than information can be truly controlled on the Internet.

I'm so out of shape I take steroids just to watch sports.

Sports are what we watch when we just can’t look at another spreadsheet. They’re what we use when we need to get away from our lives for a little bit. Every human needs the escape, and sports provides this splendidly.

When I first met my long-term partner, Mike, he was suffering with an incurable disease. (No need for specifics). He was taking a concoction of pills and was facing a prospect of steroid medication and perhaps surgery to keep his condition in remission. I was somewhat surprised that on our first date, he told me, not just the full story of his own disease, but also all about his father and sister, who were both suffering with separate incurable illnesses. As I got to know Mike and his family, I was struck by how much they talked about illness. Mike gave an almost daily commentary about his various aches, pains, twinges and physical state. Where some families talk about politics or sport, or celebrities, or current affairs (it’s dogs, cats and kids in my family), Mike’s family would chat around the dinner table about conditions, consultants, tests, medical procedures, drugs and treatments. I found this quite bewildering, because these subjects rarely enter my mind. It was like being in a room full of people talking about a book you haven’t read or a film you haven’t seen. I found myself with nothing to add to this conversation, having no story about illness to tell. But here’s where it gets interesting. When I mentioned my observations to Mike, he became aware of how much he and his family spoke about illness for the first time ever. With my prompting, he began to change his story. And as he did so, not only did his aches and pains begin to disappear, but his chronic disease also started, almost miraculously, to improve. After a few months, he felt well enough to come off all his medication. At some point, he even stopped his regular visits to the doctor. There was just no point in seeing a doctor when he felt so well. Of course, we aren’t allowed to say ‘cured’ (because only doctors are allowed to claim a cure), but all these years later, his ‘incurable’ illness is not simply better, it’s gone. Now, please don’t take this as a prescription to ditch your meds and stop seeing your doctor. I’m not saying you can or should replace proper medical advice or treatment with words. This is just one anecdote about one man who chose to tell a different story. Take from it what you will.

Ann Trason and her compadres were like mad scientists messing with beakers in the basement lab, ignored by the rest of the sport and free to defy every known principle of footwear, food, biomechanics, training intensity … everything. And whatever breakthroughs they came up with, they’d be legit. With ultrarunners, Vigil had the refreshing peace of mind of dealing with pure lab specimens. He wasn’t being hoodwinked by a phony superperformance, like the “miraculous” endurance of Tour de France cyclists, or the gargantuan power of suddenly melon-headed home-run hitters, or the blazing speed of female sprinters who win five medals in one Olympics before going to jail for lying to the feds about steroids. “Even the brightest smile,” one observer would say of disgraced wondergirl Marion Jones, “can hide a lie.