The Real Scandal in Baseball’s Drug Policy: It’s Not the Testing, It’s the Paycheck
Let’s start with a bold statement: Jurickson Profar’s second suspension for performance-enhancing drugs isn’t just a failure of the player—it’s a failure of the system. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it exposes the gaping loophole in Major League Baseball’s (MLB) drug policy. The testing? Rigorous. The penalties? Severe. But the contracts? That’s where the real problem lies.
The Numbers Don’t Lie—But They Also Don’t Punish
Profar’s story is a case study in the absurdity of guaranteed contracts. After his second violation, he’ll forfeit his $15 million salary for 2026. Sounds harsh, right? Wrong. His contract with the Atlanta Braves runs through 2027, meaning he’ll still pocket $15 million next year, regardless of whether he plays, gets injured, or is released. Personally, I think this is where the system becomes complicit in its own failure. If you take a step back and think about it, the risk-reward calculus for players is dangerously skewed.
Here’s the kicker: Profar’s career earnings jumped from a million dollars in 2024 to a $42 million contract in 2025. Even with suspensions, he’s set for life. What many people don’t realize is that for some players, the financial upside of using PEDs far outweighs the risk of getting caught—twice. It’s not about cheating the game; it’s about securing a future. And that’s a moral gray area MLB can’t afford to ignore.
The Player’s Perspective: A Risky Bet Worth Taking
Years ago, I had a conversation with a veteran player in the Orioles’ clubhouse that still sticks with me. When I asked why players would risk their careers for PEDs, he laughed. The truth? Many players see it as a career-saving move, not a career-ending one. Elevate your stats, sign a big contract, and retire comfortably. Sure, there’s a chance of getting caught, but as long as it’s not three times, the team is on the hook to pay you. Big risk, big reward.
From my perspective, this mindset is a symptom of a larger issue: the disconnect between punishment and deterrence. If the worst-case scenario is still a multi-million-dollar payday, where’s the incentive to stay clean?
Teams Are Powerless—And It’s Not Their Fault
Atlanta’s deal with Profar was met with skepticism from the start. But let’s be clear: the Braves aren’t the villains here. They couldn’t drug-test him before signing, and they can’t void his contract now. MLB’s collective bargaining agreement (CBA) ties their hands. One thing that immediately stands out is how the players’ union has consistently blocked proposals to give teams more control over contracts in cases of drug violations.
Proposals like reducing violators’ salaries to the league minimum or allowing teams to void contracts after multiple offenses have been shot down. Why? Because the union prioritizes player rights over accountability. In my opinion, this is where the system fails not just the teams, but the integrity of the game itself.
The Broader Implications: A Game at Risk
What this really suggests is that MLB’s drug policy is stuck in a time warp. The testing is state-of-the-art, but the penalties are outdated. Second-time offenders like Profar should be out of the game, period. At the very least, teams should have the right to void or renegotiate contracts. What’s stopping this? The CBA, which expires in 2026. This raises a deeper question: Are we prioritizing player rights over the health and fairness of the sport?
Pitchers like Justin Verlander and Miles Mikolas have spoken out, criticizing the union for defending players like Profar. Mikolas’s comment that Profar doesn’t need the union’s help is spot-on. If you’re wealthy enough to afford top-tier legal defense, why should the union step in? It’s a valid point that highlights the disconnect between the players’ association and the broader interests of the game.
The Way Forward: Fixing a Broken System
Here’s where I stand: MLB needs to rethink its approach to drug violations. One mulligan? Fine. But a second offense should mean a lifetime ban—or at least the ability for teams to void contracts. Players awaiting appeals shouldn’t be allowed to play. The current system rewards bad behavior with financial security, and that’s unacceptable.
When I reached out to current and former players for their take, the response was unanimous: no one condones PED use, but the system makes it almost rational. That’s a damning indictment.
Final Thoughts: The Game Deserves Better
Baseball has come a long way since the steroid era of the 1990s and early 2000s, but Profar’s case shows there’s still work to do. The sport deserves a policy that deters cheating, not one that inadvertently rewards it. If MLB wants to clean up the game, it needs to start with the contracts. Until then, players like Profar will keep rolling the dice—and winning.
In the end, it’s not just about catching cheaters; it’s about creating a system where cheating isn’t worth the risk. And right now, MLB is failing that test.
