Before opening day of the 1986 baseball season, Commissioner Peter Ueberroth suspended seven major leaguers who had been implicated in a federal cocaine case in Pittsburgh.

Each ballplayer received a one-year ban, a sentence that would be commuted if he agreed to certain conditions, including contributing 10 percent of his base pay for the upcoming campaign, with the money earmarked for a drug prevention program. The player also had to devote 100 hours a year for two years to community service, and consent to drug testing for the rest of his career.

For the past 20 months George Mitchell, the former Senate majority leader and federal prosecutor, has been investigating the use of steroids in baseball. His findings-to be released Thursday-are expected to include the names of dozens of players tied to banned substances. But don't expect any of those big leaguers to be punished as severely as their predecessors were in the mid-1980s.

"I doubt that any disciplinary action will come of this," says a former member of the commissioner's office. "Unless a player is caught red-handed or seems to have perjured himself during testimony, there's not much Mitchell or baseball can do."

Performance-enhancing drugs have long been the sport's dirty, open secret. In the summer of 2001, I asked a well-traveled American League reliever how many of his fellow big leaguers used steroids. "About 80 percent," he said flatly. "And many of them are 'roided to their eyeballs."

Asked if most of the juicers were sluggers, the reliever said, "Hell, no. A lot are pitchers."

Though steroids were banned in 1991, baseball didn't begin testing in the minors until 2001, or in the majors until two years later. More than 5 percent of the 2003 big-league tests came back positive, triggering penalties-under an agreement with the players' union-for positive results in 2004.

A first positive for steroid use resulted in treatment; a second, in a 15-day suspension or a fine of up to $10,000. Punishment increased to a ban of 25 days or a fine of as much as $25,000 for a third positive test, 50 days or a fine of up to $50,000 for a fourth, and one year or a fine of up to $100,000 for a fifth. The suspensions were without pay.

After Congressional hearings in 2005, players were required to be tested out of competition more often, and suspensions for first-time violators were increased to 50 days. At the same time, a ban on amphetamines was put into effect, as well as one on human growth hormone, though H.G.H. is not yet detectable by urine testing.

Last week, two major leaguers were disciplined following allegations that they received shipments of steroids and H.G.H. from 2002 through 2006. Jay Gibbons of the Baltimore Orioles and Jose Guillen, who played for the Seattle Mariners in 2007 and recently signed as a free agent with the Kansas City Royals‚ will be suspended for 15 days at the start of the 2008 season. Both were linked to the drugs through documentary evidence rather than positive tests. The length of the bans will likely be used as a template after the Mitchell report is issued.

The report will have no economic impact on individual teams. "Baseball is not in the same situation as professional cycling," says one general manager. "You won't see Citigroup withdrawing as a sponsor of the Mets."

Hypothetically, tainted players could lose endorsements, just as free agents linked to illicit drugs might encounter a smaller pool of suitors and less lucrative contract offers.

And in theory, foreign players considered traffickers may have problems getting visas to play in the United States. In practice, however, consular officials have always tended to look the other way. The 34-year-old Dominican infielder Neifi Pérez-a veteran of five teams in 11 big-league seasons-has been suspended twice for using banned substances and has never been denied entry.

Some suspect Hall of Fame candidates could lose income if their reputations are further sullied. Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, and Rafael Palmeiro were once locks for Cooperstown. The report probably will not help their chances of ever getting admitted.

"Really, though, how much extra money does membership to the Hall mean?" asks Smith College sports economist Andrew Zimbalist. "I don't think it's a heck of a lot."

Zimbalist predicts that any financial fallout from the Mitchell report will be minimal.

"What can Mitchell tell the public that's not already assumed?" he says. "His report will play big in the media for two or three days, then disappear. It will be presented in a way that doesn't undermine the game's governing structure." Zimbalist reckons that the Lords of Baseball are even less interested in more arbitration and endless hearings than they are in drawing further attention to their lax standards and enforcement policies.

A prominent baseball agent agrees. "I doubt that the Mitchell report will cost players much of anything," he says. "Baseball wants this drug scandal to go away, and quickly. Only two conclusions are possible: Either baseball executives were complicit, or their heads were stuck in the sand."