Grimsley's steroid allegations test game

Even as Jason Grimsley dressed for Tuesday night's game with the Philadelphia Phillies, 13 federal investigators were completing a six-hour search of his house, looking for evidence in their on-going probe into illegal drug use in major-league baseball.

Even in the first inning, as he warmed up in the Arizona bullpen in what probably would be the final night of his big-league career, agents were sifting through data and preparing another haymaker to the game's integrity.

Arizona manager Bob Melvin didn't get word of the investigation until the second inning and decided not to use his long reliever in the blowout loss.

Maybe it will be a journeyman pitcher who delivers the most telling blow to baseball.

It won't be Barry Bonds' grand-jury testimony. It won't be Jose Canseco's book. It won't be Rafael Palmeiro's failed drug test or the suspicions that followed Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa into retirement.

Maybe it will be the cooperation of a reliever named Jason Grimsley, a guy who has pitched for seven clubs in a mediocre career that began in 1989, that accelerates the investigation and shakes the game to its foundation.

According to an affidavit filed in U.S. District Court in Phoenix, Grimsley, who asked for and got his release from the Diamondbacks before Wednesday afternoon's game, was caught receiving two kits of human growth hormone (HGH), apparently a season's supply, by federal agents on April 19.

HGH is on baseball's list of banned substances, but there are no reliable tests for its usage, and it is believed it has become the substitute-of-choice for other performance-enhancing drugs that can be detected in urine samples.

The affidavit, which first appeared Tuesday night on the Arizona Republic's Web site, said Grimsley had cooperated in the ongoing federal investigation of the Bay Area Laboratory Cooperative (BALCO). He named names, then stopped cooperating sometime in April.

Grimsley, who court documents say failed a league drug test in 2003, allegedly told investigators that "boatloads" of players use HGH. He also said that amphetamine use was prevalent and that the drugs were hidden in coffee makers marked "leaded" and "unleaded."

He said Latino players were major sources of the amphetamines, and said players from California teams were sources for speed because it was easy for them to take quick trips to Mexico to buy the drugs.

Allegedly Grimsley even talked about a player who had used steroids and had the worst case of back acne he'd ever seen.

Now an investigation that, at least publicly, seemed to stall after the BALCO defendants had plea bargained and served their short jail sentences could pick up more momentum than a 10-game winning streak.

And players, who are sick of the questions and the suspicions that have followed them through the first third of this season, will be peppered with more questions and shadowed by more accusations.

Members of Congress looking for an issue with more substance than the gay-marriage amendment might go back on the attack against baseball and open up more investigations and call for more hearings.

More important, this is the kind of news that will force baseball to, once again, take a hard look at itself and come up with even more stringent tests.

It is one thing for Palmeiro to wag his finger at congressmen and lie that he never used steroids. It's one thing for McGwire to indignantly refuse to answer the hard questions or for Canseco to make allegations in a book.

This is quite another thing.

This is a big-league pitcher who has been around the game for almost two decades, caught in the act and giving up the names of other players he says are doing exactly what he is doing.

This is the kind of thing that should scare every dirty big-leaguer to death. Grimsley's confessions could be the start of a flood of information that brings down dozens of other players.

But it should also give new impetus to the league and to the Players' Association to clean up a mess that had been maybe 30 years in the making.

The way it is now, every time Albert Pujols hits a home run, he's under suspicion. Every time the Jason Giambi of 2006 resembles the thunderous Jason Giambi of 2002, he raises eyebrows.

The perfect storm is swirling around baseball again.

Jason Grimsley had a long big-league career. But until this week, we had no idea of the extent of his legacy.

Steve Kelley: 206-464-2176 or skelley@seattletimes.com