Taking the big-picture view, the issuing of the Mitchell Report should have a positive influence on Major League Baseball.

But the devil, as the saying goes, is in the details, and the details are a lot more difficult to embrace.

Clearly, there are a whole lot of details. Given that the report runs 409 pages in downloadable form, including its summary and 46 pages of appendices, it's going to take a long time to get a handle on the strengths and weaknesses of the document.

Be that as it may, at the first glance, the report does some valuable work.

It provides another indication how widespread the use of performance-enhancing substances has been in the sport. It includes a series of recommendations on addressing the use of steroids and other substances and has an extensive section on educating youth athletes on the negative side effects of steroids. And it makes it clear the role played by individuals in baseball's management structure, who failed to address the problem — or even acknowledge it existed — for years.

Now that the issue is being acknowledged, and there's some sense of its scope, there's a much better chance it can be addressed effectively.

On the other hand, those big-picture effects are largely being ignored at first blush in favor of focusing on the players who have been named in the report. The crawl on the bottom of the ESPN screen Thursday repeatedly listed the players named in the report; it didn't mention Mitchell's conclusion that "improved educational programs about the dangers of substance abuse are critical to any effort to deter performance-enhancing substance use."

Even that fascination with names might be acceptable if the names were released based on rock-solid evidence confirming use of steroids or human growth hormone. But look through the report for the name of Matt Franco, and you'll quickly conclude that is not the case.

Franco, the former Westlake High infielder who played for the Mets, Cubs and Braves, was named by Kirk Radomski, a primary source of Mitchell Report evidence. Rodomski, a former Mets clubhouse attendant, admitted to selling steroids, human growth hormone and other substances to major league players as part of a 2005 guilty plea. He called Franco someone he "knew well" and said he sold Franco steroids on one occasion.

But Franco, who most recently has played in Japan, was one of the few players who agreed to be interviewed by Mitchell investigators. He denied purchasing or using performance-enhancing substances, or even knowing Radomski, who left the Mets two years before Franco joined the team.

In other words, a convicted felon's allegation — although denied — was all it took to get Franco's name included. Think about that if you start labeling everyone named in the report as a drug cheat.

On the other hand, not everyone was named for reasons as sketchy as Franco, as illustrated by the other local player named in the report.

As a baseball employee — a minor league manager last season — former major league catcher Tim Laker of Simi Valley was obligated to attend an interview by investigators, and confirmed using steroids purchased from Radomski. So clearly, some of the allegations are valid.

But unless someone is willing to wade through the entire report, they're not going to see the shades of gray, just that more than eighty names were set down in black and white. Franco isn't going to get as much attention as, say, Roger Clemens — whose attorney has already asserted his client was "slandered" by the report — but he's not going to be separated from the players who clearly did break the rules, either. And the report is quite clear in stating it makes no pretense of having uncovered all the steroid users in the game.

And so it's hard not to wonder: Why was it necessary to name names? To get headlines?

Without names, the report might end up buried deep inside this newspaper and others, instead of out front, alongside pictures of Clemens, Miguel Tejada and others. But the coverage would be more likely to focus on the big-picture goals the report wants to accomplish — stronger testing, more education, the establishment of an internal investigations department — than wondering what this means to Clemens' legacy or what punishment the commissioner might enact.

You'd say the names provide shock value, but if anyone is shocked there's steroid use in baseball, they're so inattentive they'll probably miss this report, as well.

So the report is out, and it's news, and it will likely help the game in the long run. Nothing wrong with that.

It's just the details that are troubling.

— Contact Star columnist David Lassen at dlassen@VenturaCountyStar.com.