And perhaps that is just as well, because after his response this week to the latest drugs scandal to rock the aerial ping-pong code, I'd be tempted to disown him.

For those who missed it, the AFL was thrown under a bus on Monday when federal politician Andrew Wilkie made the stunning revelation in parliament that clubs were aiding and abetting players in avoiding drugs tests, and that the code's governing body was well aware of this practice.

Wilkie told parliament that club doctors conduct in-house swabs of players who may have been dabbling in recreational substances, to ensure they are in no danger of testing positive if they are asked to provide ASADA with a sample on game day.

Players who raise red flags are then stood down until the drug is out of their system, and their absence is explained to the general public - the loyal, trusting fans who part with their hard-earned each week at the turnstiles - as being injury-related.

Yet if all that strikes as slightly mind-boggling, it was just a teaser before this astonishing response from head office: "We are unapologetic about club and AFL doctors taking the correct steps to ensure that any player who they believe has an illicit substance in their system does not take part in any AFL match and that doctor patient confidentially is upheld and respected."

Or as my namesake Andrew Dillon added: "The private medical information of the players is the private medical information of the players."

In other words, rather than trying to rort any system - like the Chinese, East Germans, Russians or Lance Armstrong - the AFL's motives are pure and beyond reproach.

They have a duty of care to their athletes, and that is the administration's No.1 priority.

To that I would provide a succinct, two-word reply: Ben Cousins.

Cousins should be remembered as one of the AFL's all-time greats - a Brownlow Medallist, a premiership winner and arguably the most dominant player of his generation.

Instead his main claim to fame, or infamy, has been his prolonged battle with addiction, which transformed him from multi-millionaire superstar to destitute junkie who has been imprisoned on several occasions.

As revealed in his autobiography, Cousins developed a drug habit very early in his playing career and became adept at identifying windows of opportunity in which he could binge.

There was rampant speculation at the time that Cousins' club, the West Coast Eagles, had a drug "culture", but it was not until former captain Chris Mainwaring died of a cocaine overdose in 2007 that the full extent of the problem became undeniable.

Two weeks later, the Eagles were forced to sack Cousins after he was arrested and charged with drugs possession.

He spent a year on the sidelines before returning to finish his career with Richmond, only to relapse and spiral out of control after hanging up the boots in 2010.

The now 45-year-old appears to finally be on the straight and narrow, having spent the past couple of years working for Perth media outlets.

More than a decade after his fall from grace, it would appear the AFL has learned nothing. The priority remains brand management, presenting a squeaky-clean facade, and trying to portray their athletes as wholesome role models.

Meanwhile, behind the scenes, players who indulge in recreational drugs are effectively shielded from the possibility of testing positive, and hence bringing the game into disrepute. Far from deterring anyone from taking drugs, the policy is a green light.

How many who dabble occasionally now will, in years to come, find themselves on the same slippery slope as Ben Cousins?

And while there has been no mention - yet - of rugby league clubs in this sordid tale, we would be naive to assume they wouldn't lower themselves to the same dubious level as their AFL counterparts.