In 1992, Bud Selig was elevated to the position of commissioner of Major League Baseball. Back then, he was known as the man who had brought baseball to Milwaukee. Seventeen years later, Selig has overseen both the good and bad times of baseball. He fought through the player strike of 1994, which culminated in a cancelled World Series. He brought inter-league play and a third playoff round to the game. But more than anything else, he allowed steroids to take a stranglehold on the game. And when Selig finally decides to leave the game, steroids will be what he is remembered for most.

The laundry list of players confirmed to have used steroids is long. The list of players most believe to have cheated is even longer. When Alex Rodriguez was ousted as having tested positive in 2003, he wasn't the only one. In fact, one-hundred and three other players had performance-enhancing substances in their system. It was only at that point that Bud Selig took the threat of steroids seriously. Never mind that just five years before, two players broke a single-season home-run record that had stood for thirty-seven years in one year. Or that just three years later, a thirty-seven year old Barry Bonds broke the new record with a newfound power resurgence.

Bud had to know something was amiss. To not notice the sudden increase in home-runs and physical sizes would be idiocy. But as long as the game was making money and the general public was unaware of the widespread usage of steroids, Selig didn't seem to care. He certainly didn't do anything to show that he did.

Only after intense pressure from both fans and the federal government did baseball change their weak policies against steroid use. Even now, a player confirmed to having used steroids is only suspended for fifty games on first use, less than a third of the regular season. Considering steroid use can result in inflated valuation in the free agency market, the punishment isn't severe enough to deter desperate players on the fringe.

If baseball wants to solve the steroid issue, they should have taken a hard stance from the beginning. A single violation of the steroid policy should mean a season-long suspension. In addition, the player should be banned from Hall of Fame consideration, have his contract ripped apart if his team wants to cut ties, and be forced to adhere to weekly drug tests upon his return. Another violation should be a lifelong ban. Using steroids is cheating and should not be tolerated. There shouldn't be any first warning. The more severe the initial punishment is, the less likely it is that players will risk getting caught for short-term rewards.

Unfortunately for the game, Bud Selig never made the punishment fit the crime. Instead, he figured a slap on the back and a stern admonishment would do the trick. Now baseball continues to play under the shadow of performance-enhancing drugs. Not a year goes by without another big name admitting using a banned substance. And yet, just a few weeks ago, Selig received an extension on his contract, slated to pay him over seventeen million dollars a year.

Bud may have been worth that back when he brought baseball to a city that desperately wanted it. But after botching the steroid issue in his league by first ignoring it and then underestimating it, he has helped tarnish the game for the next twenty years. For that, he shouldn't be paid seventeen million dollars. In fact, he shouldn't be paid a dime. And until baseball finally decides to fire Selig, it can never begin recovering. Because he is, and always has been, part of the problem.