Whenever there is a baseball performance-enhancing drug user revelation, you can count on some quotes from Jose Canseco. Last time around, he staged an embarrassing press conference. But this time after David Ortiz was named yesterday? He’s back with the only reason we ever give him an ounce of respect, he gives us names. We love the names. Feed off the names. We don’t care what they took. We just want the names, and we want them now. Speaking to Pedro Gomez yesterday, Canseco said this:

“When you tell me something I didn’t already know, I’ll be surprised,” Canseco told ESPN. “And I’ll tell you this, Major League Baseball is going to have a big, big problem on their hands when they find out they have a Hall of Famer who’s used.”

When asked to name who that Hall of Fame player is, Canseco refused to divulge who he believes it is.

OK, so that’s not a name. But, there’s no denying he’s been incredibly truthful when it comes to MLB and PEDs. As much as people want to dismiss this rogue character, he’s been right so much, you have to take his word about this subject and believe. He’s given us no reason not to, really.

So, in that vain, Andrew over on our Sox blog — which I’m hoping one to seven of you read — listed out the HOF players Canseco has had as a teammate. Now, point to make before I get any further: neither he nor I are saying any of these guys took anything. We have zero evidence. There is no reason to believe any of these guys injected or swallowed something to enhance their performance on the field. Let me repeat: I am not insinuating any one of these fellas juiced.

That being said, and knowing Canseco’s track record on this stuff, onwards to the players via Baseball-Reference:

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When you think of the Texas Rangers, you think of a team that juiced like crazy in the 90s when Jose Canseco was on the team. When you think of the White Sox? You think of Frank Thomas, an incredibly outspoken detractor on steroids, and about the only guy that willingly talked to George Mitchell during his investigation. You also think of 2003, when several members of the Sox decided not to take a drug test in an effort to get harder testing in MLB.

This is not to say no one has ever done PEDs on this current team, or even past incarnations of the Sox. That would be foolish. After all, Jose Canseco was on the Sox in 2001. According to David Wells, it was during that season Canseco suggested he take some drugs. His answer was no.

From the NY Daily News:

Wells told the Daily News Saturday that he had plenty of chances to use performance-enhancing drugs, including when Jose Canseco suggested he try drugs in 2001, when they were teammates with the Chicago White Sox. Wells struggled with back problems that season - he pitched just 100 2/3 innings that year and went 5-7 - but he says he passed, even though Canseco promised HGH would get him back on track.

“I didn’t need to do that and I wasn’t going to do that,” Wells said during a telephone interview yesterday from Boston, where he was preparing for TBS’ broadcast of today’s Red Sox-Rangers game. “That stuff is not good for the game and it is not good for your body.”

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This morning, I received an email with this video. It’s Jose Canseco out in Los Angeles, speaking at a lectern with a microphone fielding questions. I believe this is what people in the business call a “press conference.” After a few questions, I got distracted by something else online, and didn’t go back to it. But from the sound of the questions, it seems like it was decently attended.

But, then I saw this:

And read this:

Only one reporter from The Associated Press, Canseco’s lawyer, a photographer and four camera crews attended the news conference. All but two of the 100 seats were empty.

Yeah, I guess my assumption was dead wrong. As the Blogfather tweeted, this is pretty much the saddest press conference in the world. And what it proves is this: For as dead-on as Canseco has been about the steroid era, for as many names that have come out of his lips that have been tied to PEDs, he’s still an outsider, a flake, a clown, and he’s prone to say a bunch of other absurd, ridiculous stuff. (Ask Pat Jordan about all this.) We care about Jose Canseco when he’s naming names (it’s always about finding out the names); We make fun of him when he’s boxing Danny Bonaduce, or trying to become a knuckleball pitcher in some random baseball league.

Jose’s only of service to us when he’s condemning other baseball stars. When he’s at a lectern just spitballing about the game not giving him a chance in Los Angeles on a Thursday afternoon?

You get 98 empty seats.

This news is not shocking. Nothing PED-related really is anymore.

So, let’s dive into a few different issues surrounding it:

– Jose Canseco was right. Again. Remember when he called Manny out during Spring Training? As E put it, Canseco’s “hit rate on steroids is much higher than his career BA.”

– Imagine you’re a Dodgers fan right now. Manny Ramirez came over to your team last season, and put up a ridiculous second half, propelling your team into the NL Championship Series. Your team is out to a great start: 13-0 at home (setting a modern-day record to start a season) and 21-8 overall (good enough for the best record in baseball). Your best hitter, the one currently humming along at a .348/.492/.641 clip, just got suspended for 50 games. There are 133 remaining games this season. You just lost your best hitter for 38 percent of the remaining season. Damn.

– I’m not sure how this really affects his image. He’s not A-Rod, who people wanted to see fail. He’s Manny Ramirez, the goofy, happy-go-lucky, aloof character. What happens to his public perception when he falls from grace? I don’t know. Yankee fans will rejoice. I’m not sure who else is really jumping for joy or hanging their heads in sadness today.

Because now you have the chance. And it’s totally legal! You see, Jose Canseco, who is never one to turn down a quick buck, has a little boxing scenario set up for the common man.

Here’s how it works: Go to the Miami Dade Mall down in Florida on Sunday, May 3 from 12-4 p.m. for open tryouts. It only costs $50! Once there, box your little heart out, impress the judges and you’ll have the opportunity to box Jose in the ring on June 27th in Fort Lauderdale. In addition, the bout will be a pay-per-view event … on the Internet. Who knew such a thing existed? Well you and I both do now!

This is all being backed by Smoking Everywhere, which is the manufacturer of an electronic cigarette. The experience of smoking said cigarette is just like smoking a real cigarette, expect it’s an electronic cigarette. I’m not making this up.

I don’t know about you dudes, but I’m totally finding a flight down to Miami for next weekend. Who’s with me?

HT: Alper

There are three ways to handle questions about steroid allegations directed at you:

1) Deny, deny, deny. This is usually a bad idea if you’re lying. Because sometimes you get caught. And then it just gets worse. See: Rafael Palmeiro.

2) Admit to wrongdoing. If you get out ahead of the story, you’ll be more sympathetic to the public and we’ll say: “At least he admitted what he did was wrong from the start. I don’t condone what he did, but at least he was truthful with me.”

3) Say nothing, and let it die. This works in the short term, but if allegations persist, it’s hard to keep up this charade for long.

Option No. 3 is what Manny Ramirez chose this week, after Jose Canseco decided to say that even though he really had no tangible proof, he was “90 percent” certain Ramirez’s name is on that famed 2003 list of players who tested positive. It’s easy to dismiss the ramblings of Canseco; He’s baseball recluse, the guy that has opened his mouth and broken the player’s code for a profit.

But he’s rarely, if ever, been wrong on this stuff. When he dropped A-Rod’s name in his second book, we all laughed. We now know how that one turned out.And here again is another somewhat blind allegation. (Canseco points to Ramirez’s contract negotiations dragging out this spring as proof he was juicing.)

Ramirez handled it well. Say nothing, and let it die for now. If his name ever surfaces on that 2003 list, at least he can say he never lied about it.

Jose Canseco’s book, “Juiced: Wild Times, Rampant ‘Roids, Smash Hits, and How Baseball Got Big,” hit store shelves almost exactly four years ago today. The book’s title was the worst I’ve ever seen, and by most accounts it was poorly written. But the revelations within sent baseball fans on a four-year sojourn of anger, resignation, reconciliation, repeat.

Yesterday, Canseco said through his agent that he believes he deserves an apology from Major League Baseball, and an acknowledgment that he wasn’t lying after all. And I hear this, and I’m startled to realize that, like Eamonn, I find myself liking, and even empathizing with, someone whose public persona I’ve traditionally hated.

Last year, a friend of mine was a dealer at the World Series of Poker. One night he happened to deal to Canseco. He described to me his fondness of Mike’s Hard Lemonade and his silk pants with dragons sewn into them. How lame is that? What a horrible person, right?

I thought those things, and I still think those things, and yet I suddenly find myself entertaining the idea that he is owed an apology. Perhaps not just from baseball authorities, but from the media and the fans. I don’t think it was so wrong of us to doubt Canseco in 2005; there was no reason to believe that he wasn’t trying to milk every last dollar out of one more moment in the sun. And even now, it’s tough to sell the idea that Canseco did this out of moral conviction rather than money. The fact remains that if it weren’t for his crappy book, it’s very possible that Major League Baseball would still be willing and able to sweep its performance-enhancing drug problem under the rug.

So here we go. Deep breath: Jose Canseco, I don’t really blame myself for doubting you, but I came to the wrong conclusion and I owe you an apology. Now it’s your turn. I demand an apology for your stupid pants.