So Dick Pound figures a third of NHL players are juiced.
Pound has already been hit by denials from predictable quarters, the NHL and players' association shocked and appalled. Over at Sports Matters, Avi Schaumberg crunches WADA's own numbers to cast doubt over His Royal Poundness's calculator. Buried in the Globe and Mail's report this morning, too, is an allusion to the fluidity of the term "performance-enhancing", something to always bear in mind -- one man's chili pepper is another's cold pill; and how can you classify designer drugs when there are no tests yet to detect them?
Pound has never been shy about going through the media to make his case. He comes across as trying way too hard to be the Elliot Ness of sports doping, his long association and history at the IOC, an organization that makes FIFA look like a nursery school, inspiring nothing but skepticism, if not outright disdain. There's so much grandstanding, the temptation is to sound the clarion: Test Dick Pound.
Only problem with that approach is that it amounts to throwing out the baby with the bathwater.
The drugs are out there, new ones and better ones and impossible to detect, and there's still enough gray area that tougher testing penalties or not, someone's going to be taking them to get an edge.
That's not as good a headline, though. If Pound insists on putting a number on it, a little supporting evidence is the least to ask.
Or, in the way we put it around here:
Dick Pound is talking.
A rush of blood to the head
and calls of "shaddup"!
One more thing before the weekend: it wouldn't be a week without the Leafs shuffling the lines would it? And don't look now, but Marius Czerkawski has re-appeared. And fer crissakes, on the No. 1 line with Mats Sundin yet, as Pat Quinn gets on the loafers from Wednesday's non-effort.
Here's your latest combos out of yesterday's practice, from Ken Campbell:
(In an emergency, break glass line: Kilger-Wilm-Belak)