Don't blame Sabean for not blowing the whistle

If they'd only listened to soulful singer Bobby (Blue) Bland - "Yield Not to Temptation" - they could have avoided this mess. That goes for players and executives, as the Giants well know. Instead, the steroid era calls up another Bland selection on the jukebox: "I Pity the Fool."

Just stop for a moment, though, and take it past all the sordid episodes that built Barry Bonds' castle. Assume that he juiced up like a madman, that Greg Anderson was his distributor, that Anderson had the run of the clubhouse, and that the Giants let it happen. Now you're in the same ballpark with every other team around that time.

The Yankees had put Brian McNamee on their payroll, according to the Mitchell Report, at Roger Clemens' request. The Mets had Kirk Radomski. Somewhere, within the confines of every clubhouse, lurked at least one reliable source for steroids. Players were so certain they were in the clear, they actually wrote checks to the Radomskis of the world.

Now you're Stan Conte, the Giants' trainer at the time, and you're plenty upset. You don't want anyone in the clubhouse offering drugs, training methods or anything else within your domain. You've ridden this out for a while, but now you're sick of looking at Anderson, Harvey Shields and the rest of Bonds' ubiquitous entourage. You've learned that other players are discussing steroids with Anderson. You bring it up to Brian Sabean - and freeze-frame the moment right there.

Just what the **** is Sabean supposed to do? The Mitchell Report has chastised him for not reporting the issue to Major League Baseball, but think about it: The entire continent of baseball was "looking the other way" at that point. Bonds' achievements and gate appeal were paying huge dividends at the cash register. He was the Giants, more valuable than any teammate, executive or investor.

You're expecting Sabean to tell the commissioner, "Listen, Bud, we've got a massive steroid problem out here"? Surely you're joking. I'm with Gary Radnich on this one: Whatever price the Giants are paying now - even if comes to suspensions for Sabean and Peter Magowan - they secretly believe it was worth it. Bonds meant runaway sellouts, and relevance. When it comes to Conte - a good man who finally fled to the hated Dodgers in disgust - hold your after-the-fact rip jobs on Sabean. As our man Bobby sang, he was "Too far gone to turn around."

Wow, big surprise
In the wake of Clemens' inclusion in the Mitchell Report, a noted baseball writer said we'll "never look at him quite the same way." What? That's exactly how we always looked at him - at least around the Lounge. He was a psycho who couldn't beat Dave Stewart, in a million years, and knew it. He lost his composure in an idiotic tirade against umpire Terry Cooney, getting himself tossed out of a crucial playoff game in Oakland. He once baffled manager Joe Morgan and his Red Sox teammates by angrily punching a wall with his pitching hand, nearly breaking it. He was completely out of his mind during the Mike Piazza incident during the World Series. Steroids? Not necessarily. But it was reasonable to assume he was always high on something ... As for the tedious Clemens-McNamee debate, only to get worse in the weeks to come, we can't say it better than this reader response to a blog in the Houston Chronicle: "This story is about as exciting as two toothless yokels arguing over who owns a fishing pole." ... No quarrel here with the A's deals; they weren't going to win anything if they brought back last year's roster. Just remember that they lost five guys who epitomize the true spirit of baseball, and how it should be played: Mark Kotsay, Jason Kendall, Dan Haren, Marco Scutaro and Nick Swisher. They'll need more than a few of their incoming prospects to fit that bill ... The Giants should look into the possibility of acquiring Bill Hall, a multitalented player who keeps getting thrown into a new position (now the Brewers have him at third base) and can't be too happy about it. He has power, speed, defensive ability and class.

A New England victory might seem obvious on Sunday, but how can you pick a playoff game in the season when Norv Turner becomes a leader, the Chargers win in Indianapolis without Philip Rivers or LaDainian Tomlinson, beleaguered Tom Coughlin manages to win back the Giants' locker room, Terrell Owens sheds sympathetic tears for his quarterback and Eli Manning outshines Tony Romo? ...Here's a huge thumbs-up to Romo, by the way, for his escape to Mexico with Jessica Simpson. Why would he pull such a stunt? Because he can. Not every reputable quarterback is the militant Roger Staubach or princely Bart Starr. There's Joe Namath, setting up a late-night pool shot with a babe on each arm. There's Bobby Layne, immortalized by a still photograph as he blows after-hours saxophone in a night club. There's Don Meredith, Sonny Jurgensen and Kenny Stabler getting nice and hammered, whenever they **** well pleased. Go on with it, Romo. Flash that killer smile, savor the good times and let the critics stew in their jealousy ... Speaking of quarterbacks, and Tom Brady's spot in the pantheon, the list of two-minute masters starts with Joe Montana and continues on with Johnny Unitas, Stabler and John Elway. Then you start thinking about Brady ... Playoff matchups don't get more classic than Giants-Packers, recalling the NFL championship games of 1961 and '62. That was the christening of Vince Lombardi's great run, but both franchises had more roster-wide star power than any team today. The Giants featured Y.A. Tittle, Frank Gifford, Kyle Rote, Andy Robustelli, Sam Huff, Dick Lynch and Jimmy Patton, among others, plus a scrappy starting safety by the name of Dick Nolan ... Kickers never get noticed until they screw up, but we saw one of the great clutch performances last week from San Diego punter Mike Scifres. Standing in his own end zone with 1:42 left, he kicked it eighty yards in the air - with loft ... Just when you start to analyze T.O.'s emotional breakdown - real or an acting job? - you realize he was wearing shades, indoors, at night. Pity that fool.

E-mail Bruce Jenkins at bjenkins@sfchronicle.com.

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