Name: Jose Canseco

Crime: Destroying America’s Pasttime.

It is certainly within the boundaries of feasibility to call Canseco a scoundrel, a fiend, or a ‘roided up sideshow. But just like Aldo Raine’s Nazi-hunting wrecking crew, their dastardly deeds were but a necessary evil. The “nahtzies” weren’t playing by the rules, so neither would they.

Canseco, for all of his crimes, was equally necessary.

The man who broke the Gheri Curl Color Barrier instantly burst on the scene as the new power-hitting prototype, looking like Blaze from American Gladitors sans the tangible homoeroticism. He was a 40-40 guy, one half of the Bash Brothers and patient zero for the Steroid Era, personally injecting basically everyone who did it.

Instead of letting his tiny-testicled disciples live in anonymity, Canseco pulled the sports equivalent of a busted mob enforcer turning states evidence. He brought everyone down. The last heroes of the game – Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, Alex Rodriguez, Madonna – were all implicated in a vicious memoir dripping with the blood of the guilty and Walmart generic bronzer. They all went to Congress (yes, that Congress) and adamantly denied Canseco’s allegations, calling him reckless, ridiculous, and a douche.

But no one sued him. And they all went down.

The supports keeping baseball out of deep cable continue to fall every season, most recently with the Storybook 2004 Red Sox being exposed as cheaters. Canseco is directly responsible for the downfall of the game, but you can’t call him an a*shole. If he wasn’t right every single time, he’d be a d*ck. If his actions didn’t shine a light on an industry entirely based on helping athletes cheat, he’d be a douchebag. If the purity of baseball didn’t actually have a shot now that the needles have been removed, he’d be a motherf*cker.

But instead, he’s just another necessary basterd.