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The revelation that Mark McGwire used steroids during his career including his magically enhanced 1998 season has illicited a good deal of outrage.  Strangely very little of that outrage has come from the town of his past glory and of his new employer.  St. Louis has been largely forgiving as evidenced by the largely indifferent stance of the major columnists and the standing ovation he received from Cardinal fans at his first public appearance with the team last week.  I think I have found the reason.  Turning a blind eye to “performance enhancement” is a St. Louis tradition.  If you don’t believe me look no further than one of the town’s most iconic figures, the Budweiser Clydesdales.  Yeah, I’m going there.  

What does this horse have to do with Mark McGwire? Absolutely nothing, that's what.

 First, a little history on the great horse.  The Clydesdale breed originated in Scotland and has been known since the beginning for it’s size and most importantly strength.  The horses were prized initially for their ability to haul.  An old-timey Clydesdale could pull a weight of more than a ton at a speed over more than 5 miles per hour.  It wasn’t long before they were brought to North America and were the favorite of brewers nationwide.  It was said at the time that “a brewer’s success was directly related to how his draft horses could pull a load in a day.”  Very interesting.  It would stand to reason that a bigger, stronger horse could pull a bigger, heavier load for longer distances.  Hmmm…. 

Flash forward to 1933 and the repeal of prohibition.  Augie Busch Jr presented his father with a hitch of Clydesdales and had them deliver the first legal case of Budweiser down the streets of St. Louis.  The historians will have you believe that this is where the story of the Budweiser Clydesdales began.  My alternate conspiracy theory says that the hitch was a wink and a nod to the strapping equines that helped Budweiser bootleg their beer all over the Midwest and keep the company afloat during the dark days of Prohibition.  Bootlegging across the Midwest is tiresome work, even for the most fit of Clydesdales.  No way a natural creature could handle that kind of workload without a little “pick me up.”  Certainly they would need something to help them recover from the previous day’s haul.  If the horse couldn’t go on a particular day they were put down and the brewer would be out a few day’s deliveries.  It was crucial for the Clydesdale’s to work with injury.  We might be on to something here. 

Sensing that they were sitting on a gold mine, Budweiser began parading the horses around the country and featuring them prominently in their advertising.  The humongous horses became an American icon.  The funny thing about icons is that they don’t become iconic for being average just like Big Mac didn’t become famous for hitting balls five feet over the fence.  The Bud Clydesdales are considerably bigger than their ancestors weighing in at over 2000 pounds and standing 6 feet tall in the middle.  Some people would attribute this growth to good breeding, but I think it’s something more sinister.  It’s kind of like looking at a Big Mac rookie card compared to his famous 1998 hug with Sammy Sosa.  The difference is striking.  

Mark McGwire began his career and his steroid abuse in Oakland while playing for manager Tony LaRussa but it wasn’t just the presence of TLR that made St. Louis a welcome landing spot for McGwire.  He knew he was in a place that had celebrated freakishly oversized animals for decades.  They cared not to ask questions about the unnatural features or uncommon performance.  They didn’t care that the horses were gelded to help temper their mood, supposedly so they were better around people (likely story, sounds like a roid rage cover).  Being clean is secondary.  As long as their heroes are identified with their town, the people will love them unconditionally.  

Most of all McGwire knew he was at home in a place where the masses loved gigantic horses asses.  (bad um ching!)

(Save the Sammy Sosa rebuttal.  He did it too and I hate him.  Thank you for not wasting both of our time.)