In a world where steroids don’t care about your swing or your serve, sports leagues are supposed to. But while MLB threw the book at Jose Alvarado and Jurickson Profar, the ATP Tour handed Jannik Sinner what looked more like a hall pass. Now, even former MLB leadership is raising eyebrows—and not just over the test results. When consistency is optional, credibility becomes collateral.

The one person who has a voice of concern about all the thing that goes against the sport is ex-MLB prez David Samson, and this time it is the ATP. The game between Carlos Alcaraz and Sinner was absolute cinema, and it showed why it is such a great sport. But according to Samson, the presence of Sinner after the doping allegation last year is a little unfair for other players.

Samson is not happy with how ATP has handled the case, and he has made his stance quite clear. In his latest video, Samson said, “The good news, Sinner was suspended 3 months, the bad news is he did not miss a major. It’s equivalent to a 4-game suspension for a starting pitcher. Not very meaningful, is it? Where you start on a Monday and say, ‘okay, I’ll now drop my appeal and start my suspension,’ and guess what? The day ur back is the day u start anyway.”

Sinner’s suspension for clostebol felt more like a vacation than a punishment. The ATP gave him three months off between majors, missing nothing of significance. A supposed doping ban that dodges the sport’s spotlight does little for accountability. Tennis, measured by Grand Slams, treated Sinner’s offense like a minor inconvenience.

Meanwhile, MLB didn’t blink. Alvarado and Profar were slammed with 80-game bans, postseason bans, and millions lost. Alvarado alone forfeited $4.5 million and any playoff hope. MLB’s message? Cheat the system, pay a real price—and miss when it matters most.

The ATP must take notes before credibility fades into farce. Punishments should sting, not slip by quietly. Letting players off easy sets the wrong tone for young athletes. Sports thrive on fairness, and when that’s broken, the consequence should echo through the arena.

When one sport brings the hammer and another brings a feather, the difference is more than symbolic. MLB made sure its punishments hit home; the ATP barely ruffled a collar. If missing majors defines greatness, then missing none after a doping ban defines weakness. Until tennis starts swinging with purpose, it’s not just players gaming the system—it’s the system gaming the sport.

The MLB got tough, the drugs went away, and the players got clean

For years, whispers of muscle-bound miracles and juice-fueled heroics echoed through the ballparks, turning legends into skeptics and records into arguments. But suddenly, the clubhouse chemistry shifted—testing labs became the new front office, and the message was clear: cheat and get caught. It turns out, when the big league bosses decided to stop playing nice, the game cleaned up faster than a fastball at 95 mph.

For decades, MLB was haunted by alleged doping scandals that stained its reputation. Legends were shadowed by whispers of steroids and banned substances, turning feats into controversies. The sport became a battleground between raw talent and chemical enhancements, leaving fans skeptical of every record. This dark era shaped how baseball is remembered, with legacies forever questioned.

Today, the landscape is strikingly different, thanks to relentless testing and stricter rules. Thousands of urine and blood samples are collected yearly to keep the game clean. Only a handful of players face suspensions, signaling a near-eradication of doping. The message is loud and clear: cheating comes with swift and severe consequences. MLB’s anti-doping program now ranks among the toughest in sports worldwide. Suspensions last 80 games or more, with zero tolerance for repeat offenses.

The era of whispered secrets and hidden syringes has finally passed, replaced by cold labs and hot suspensions. While some legends may forever linger in the “alleged” hall of fame, today’s players know the price of cheating is no longer just a slap on the wrist.