Ex-Sox Parque comes clean on his own terms

Jim Parque could have crawled into a hole Mark McGwire-style and nobody would have gone looking for him.

A pitcher with a 31-34 career record and 5.42 ERA doesn't warrant much attention on the 'roid witch hunt that has gone on in the last four years. It would have been easy to forget about Parque - a 33-year-old former left-handed starter for the White Sox and Tampa Bay Rays - even after his name popped up in the Mitchell Report. But Parque doesn't want to fade away. He doesn't want to live with his dirty secret anymore. No one's asking, but he's telling. And he doesn't just want the world to know that he used human-growth hormone when he was drawing a major-league paycheck, he wants us to know why and - it's frightening to learn the truth - how. These days, there no longer is shock value to learning someone juiced. The shock is that Parque is choosing to come clean on his own terms. He's not writing a book for a buck or being pushed to the podium by a team Andy Pettitte-style to ease the daily pressure from the media. What stands out in his story today is how a UCLA-educated man - one of the more intelligent players on any of his teams - could do something so stupid and careless. We hear stories about major-leaguers juicing and it's easy to assume they know what they are doing. Parque makes it clear this is basically a back-alley operation that carries more dangers than simply failing a drug test. The former first-round pick by the White Sox chose to accept an unmarked package of needles - big enough ''for an elephant,'' he said - and vials of human-growth hormone that, even though they didn't look like the stuff he had researched on the Internet, he injected anyway. Six times he did this while trying to keep a job with the Rays. Parque got the desired results, feeling stronger with a little more life on his usually lifeless fastball and bouncing back quicker from his intense workouts. Even the constant pain in his shoulder seemed to vanish. But there was a side effect he didn't expect: guilt. ''The euphoric feelings that HGH provided were false and clouded my ability to think clearly,'' he wrote. ''Kids should learn from my poor and unethical decisions, as everything steamrolls downhill when one enters into the world of drugs.'' There is no reason to doubt Parque's claims. Yes, he lied to the Sun-Times the day the Mitchell Report was released. That's the major-leaguer in him. Alex Rodriguez lied about using performance-enhancing drugs - so did Rafael Palmeiro, Sammy Sosa and Manny Ramirez. Parque was just going with the flow. Parque should have cleared the air when the Mitchell Report was released Dec. 13, 2007. There he was, beginning on Page 223. Mitchell, in his report on performance-enhancing drugs to commissioner Bud Selg, even included two checks written by Parque to Kirk Radomski, the former New York Mets ''clubbie'' who was one of the major suppliers of PEDs to major-leaguers and a key witness in Mitchell's investigation. As Mitchell noted in his report, Radomski said he made two sales of human-growth hormone to Parque. There was no reason to doubt Radomski. Why would he make up a story about a relatively obscure player? But Parque, who refused to be interviewed by Mitchell and his team of investigators, denied the allegation, telling the Sun-Times the day the report was released: ''I pitched a few years in the major leagues. I worked hard, worked the right way. I'm not the guy that holds records or said, 'Look at me.' If there is evidence out there, show me. All I see is a guy I don't even know trying to save his own ass.'' End of story. In Chicago, there was more interest in the Mitchell Report fallout of another former White Sox lefty, Scott Schoeneweis, having six shipment of steroids delivered directly to Comiskey Park during the 2003 and 2004 seasons. Parque was lost in that shuffle. When he made comebacks in 2004 with the Arizona Diamondbacks and in 2007 with the Seattle Mariners, there was no way Parque was going to reveal his secret. After he retired, he would be left alone by the public. Parque knows he has opened himself up to possible questions from investigators and nasty looks from former teammates. He doesn't care. He wants you to know why major-leaguers make the choices they make. He's not alone when it comes to juicing. He is alone when it comes to coming clean on his own terms.