There is no neutral ground among baseball fans when it comes to the steroids scandal. You either call for the scalps of the offending athletes and charge that the sport’s establishment turned a blind eye to drug abuse, or consider the controversy, while regrettable, a blip in a game that’s endured for over a century.

I fall into the latter category, as I find it difficult to muster moral outrage over baseball players attempting to gain an edge, legal or not, when by far the most significant blemish in the game’s history was the unspoken agreement by team owners and commissioners to ban nonwhites from the Major Leagues until 1947.

But many sportswriters, and members of Congress, have been on high horses for the past two years – beginning with the Balco revelations that implicated Jason Giambi and Barry Bonds – arguing that the statistics compiled in the past decade ought to be appended with asterisks or even erased. That seems spurious when you consider that the Hall of Fame elite heroes of long ago – Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Ty Cobb, Walter Johnson, and so on – never had to compete against equally talented men who were shunned because of their skin color.

Still, I must admit that Howard Bryant – a fine columnist for the Boston Herald, and firm adherent of the opinion that the baseball era from 1990-2004 was “tainted” by steroids – has written an extraordinary book on the subject, “Juicing the Game” (Viking, 425 pages, $24.95). It’s more than a lecture about what former slugger Mark McGwire might’ve ingested; it’s a very complete history of the recent history of the game.

Mr. Bryant’s description, and meticulous research, of modern baseball has far more to offer than a simple condemnation of steroid (and related “performance enhancing drugs”) abuse. He traces the game’s evolution from the first labor confrontations – judging Marvin Miller, the legendary union leader, on a par with Jackie Robinson in baseball history – to the damage of the mid-1990s strike. This outrage not only canceled a World Series but left fans sour with the notion of millionaires walking a picket line against even wealthier owners.

In Mr. Bryant’s view, neither side won that confrontation, with owners failing to enact salary caps and players appearing greedy, and as a result MLB commissioner Bud Selig was desperate to win back the public’s affection. He ordered the owners to begin a “healing process,” which resulted in more foul balls being tossed to spectators (especially children), players signing more autographs, and a barrage of promotions and “giveaways” at the ballparks across the country.

The season of 1998 – when Mark McGwire topped the home-run record of Roger Maris, while chased in friendly competition by Sammy Sosa – is given ample space in “Juicing the Game,” as it’s commonly thought as the year the “healing” was complete. Even though McGwire admitted to using a legal supplement to become stronger, the baseball establishment was successful in downplaying that late-season disclosure and engaged even casual fans in the remarkable outburst of power.

Mr. Bryant writes that everyone involved in the game was so mesmerized that a blind eye was turned to obvious drug abuse, saying that Peter Gammons, a Hall of Fame sportswriter, celebrated the season “because the game needed a victory so badly.” But his chief culprit in “Juicing the Game,” is Mr. Selig, who has had a bumpy ride in the past decade, becoming the object of ridicule (much of it justified) from fans, journalists, athletes, and their agents, as well as former colleagues who own the 30 baseball franchises.

Mr. Bryant, who claims steroid use has been “disastrous,” concludes: “Steroids, not interleague play, the wild card, Red Sox-Yankees, or the solid financial environment, has now defined the dozen years of [Mr. Selig’s] tenure.” I disagree with that harsh assessment. The 1994-95 strike was far worse: an outrageous event that left fans without a diversion they hold dear and deprived men and women who work at ballparks and the surrounding areas of earning a living. It was much worse for the game than the discovery that a small percentage of players cheat.

For better or worse, the past 15 years of major league baseball will be remembered for more than just steroids: The staggering number of “boutique” ballparks, smaller and more fan friendly than the lifeless structures of the 1950s and 1960s, contributed to the power surge that threatened the records of the game’s immortals. So did better, and legal, physical training by athletes, who are paid so well they don’t need off-season jobs. Arbitrary strike zones, new models of bats and balls, and videotapes of opposing teams also changed the game.

Sure, Jose Canseco and Mr. Giambi, insecure men who “juiced” indiscriminately, aren’t models for aspiring teenage athletes, but other players, like Greg Maddux, Derek Jeter, and Johnny Damon have excelled without resorting to cheating.

A fine companion book to Mr. Bryant’s “Juicing the Game” is Will Carroll’s more dispassionate “The Juice” (Ivan R. Dee, 255 pages, $24.95), an analytical breakdown of the recent history of drugs in the game. Mr. Carroll, who reports on medical issues for Baseball Prospectus, is clear at the beginning that he in no way condones the actions of athletes who seek that “extra edge,” saying: “I believe that any substance that gives any player an unfair advantage should be banned from use in baseball.”

His research is diligent. For “The Juice,” he profiled a teenager who injected a growth hormone daily in hopes of growing to baseball scouts’ preference of players at least 6 feet tall; a maker of THG, a “designer steroid”; and a minor leaguer who took steroids in the vain hope of becoming more than a “singles hitter.” Mr. Carroll also addresses the baseball establishment’s avoidance of the prevalent use of amphetamines, a practice that dates back several decades, and one he considers “just as important a problem as anabolic steroids.”

One key paragraph in “The Juice” ought to put the current outcry over steroids into perspective. Mr. Carroll writes: “If anyone remembers the Balco scandal twenty years from now, we may hear any number of comments: ‘What a shame.’ ‘A dark moment in baseball history.’ ‘Barry who?’ Or we may hear something else: ‘How primitive.'”

There isn’t much that would prevent me from following baseball or attending a number of games each year. As a youngster, my mother – who lived in the Bronx a few blocks from Yankee Stadium – was able to see Ruth, Gehrig, and the other superstars of the day. My brothers, growing up in the 1950s, witnessed the feats of Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, and Duke Snider.

The first game I attended, a birthday present when I was 7, was in 1962, when the Mets played in the Polo Grounds, before Shea Stadium was built. Several years ago, I took the family to a ballgame at Fenway Park; Pedro Martinez spied my older son, decked out in a Red Sox uniform, and gave him a piece of bubble gum.

The books by Mr. Bryant and Mr. Carroll both make for engaging reading, just as Jim Bouton’s “Ball Four” did a generation ago. I do believe, however, despite the current uproar over steroids, that Congress getting involved was a farce, a means for avoiding more serious work and garnering headlines; that baseball will continue to evolve, endure more scandals and historic feats; and that one day my children will take their own children to ballgames and continue the grand tradition of the game.

Mr. Smith last wrote in these pages on Rachel Pine’s “The Twins of Tribeca.”