A Case of Amateurish Cloak-and-Dagger Proof that Alex Rodriguez has gone from defiant to desperate came Monday in the form of a federal lawsuit. In it, he sued not only Major League Baseball to overturn his 162-game ban but also his own players union, which has done its best - often successfully - to protect him for years. In making that stand, though, Rodriguez had to make public some of the unsavory details of the league's case against him, details that were part of Fredric Horowitz's arbitration decision that was filed as Exhibit A to the suit. Earlier this week, I had lobbied for both sides to reveal all the evidence in the case so the public could see why Major League Baseball felt so compelled to slap Rodriguez with the longest doping ban in baseball history. After a look at some of that evidence Monday, part of me thinks Rodriguez deserved the ban for being the dumbest doper ever, someone who deserved to be punished just for pushing his luck. The arbitration decision revealed that Rodriguez ended up on Anthony Bosch's doping plan because Rodriguez's cousin Yuri Sucart had gotten them together. Does that name sound familiar? Sucart is the same cousin whom Rodriguez, in 2009, cited as the person who brought him steroids from the Dominican Republic in the early part of the past decade. He's the same cousin who was subsequently barred from all major league clubhouses. Document: Alex Rodriguez Sues Major League Baseball When Sucart re-emerged publicly at Rodriguez's side in 2011, baseball's investigators should have begun tailing him everywhere. They could have followed him right to the door of Biogenesis, the anti-aging clinic/doping enterprise that Sucart had been using before Rodriguez became aware of it. Back in 2009, Rodriguez, in fessing up, had recalled how Sucart had originally brought him a substance that was sure to provide "a dramatic energy boost" and was harmless. And from there came his period of acknowledged doping. You would think Rodriguez would have forever remained a little upset that Sucart had initially given him drugs that helped lead him astray and eventually led to his public vilification as a doper in 2009. But no. According to the arbitration decision made public Monday, it was Sucart who was a client of Bosch's before Rodriguez was. And it was Sucart who somehow ended up showing, or giving, Rodriguez testosterone lozenges that Sucart had received from Bosch. In a moment of déjà vu, what did Rodriguez do? Did he recall exactly how his endeavor into boosting energy Sucart's way turned out the last time and decide he wouldn't repeat his mistake? Instead, he popped a lozenge into his mouth and, according to the arbitration decision, "loved it because of its explosive effect." If true, it suggests that Rodriguez never thought twice about again breaking baseball's drug rules - even after experiencing the negative consequences of a previous doping admission. Even some rats learn how to navigate a maze without receiving an electric shock after going the wrong way the first time. The pairing of Rodriguez and the wannabe doctor Bosch was like a Laurel and Hardy version of a cloak-and-dagger scheme. Bosch would send Rodriguez a text message, asking him when to pick up his "meds," and the very sly Rodriguez would text back: "Not meds, dude. Food. A brilliant strategy. The authorities would never figure out that food equals meds if they got hold of either's BlackBerrys. Sign that man up for the F.B.I. Rodriguez and Bosch would come up with code words that would stump even the best cryptographers, using words like "blue cream," "red liquid," "rocket," "pink food" or my favorite, "liquid soup." Perhaps the solid soup had run out? Did Rodriguez truly believe that none of that seemed suspicious? Did it not cross his mind that sending Bosch a text like the one cited in the arbitrator's decision - "Try to use the service elevators. Tons of eyes. Careful" - might incriminate him if federal investigators got involved? One thing's for sure: Rodriguez's doping scheme was worlds apart from Lance Armstrong's. Both were world-class cheaters, but at least Armstrong was methodical about his doping and used a network of real doctors, who were more sophisticated with both the doping and the covering up. Unlike Rodriguez, Armstrong was too smart to rely on someone who had already been publicly linked to drugs to make his new drug connections. He would never trust a cousin who would say, "Hey, I know a guy. ... He works out of a strip mall and might deal banned substances to under-age kids, but you can trust him. That's partly why Armstrong's doping remained secret for so long. Rodriguez's doping with Bosch lasted only a couple of years before it was uncovered. The more serious issue raised by the evidence in the arbitrator's decision was how Rodriguez could morally choose to dope when he had been vilified for it before and when it was clearly against the rules. Bosch told CBS's "60 Minutes" in a broadcast that aired Sunday that Rodriguez would pop testosterone lozenges just before games and could even take them while sitting in the dugout. Doing so would require a special degree of bravado and disrespect for the game, its rules and its fans. Is there a code word for that?