The Man in the Mirror

Do you remember how exciting the '98 season was with Big Mac and Sammy crashing their way through the magical land of Sixtyone? Remember how thrilling it was when McGwire reached out one of his Popeye arms and deposited a pitch just over the opposite field fence and into the record books before embracing the Maris family? Remember how every time he came to bat thousands of camera flashes would sparkle against the summer night?

Remember what cognitive dissonance we all felt when a reporter found androstenedione in Big Mac's locker? Remember how it threatened to spoil the fun? Remember how the rest of the sports media world attacked --  the reporter! -- and how we all breathed a sigh of relief that we had been given permission to ignore the signs that the home run race was artificially sweetened?

We so wanted the history to be made. We wanted to be there for it. We rooted for Mac over Sosa even though Mac was moody and brooding, while Sosa was joyful and effervescent, because the massive redhead was the rightful heir to Ruth and Maris.

Remember?

No, actually, you've forgotten, particularly if you're a voting member of the BBWAA. All week we've heard the wailing, the gnashing of teeth, and of course, what about the children! In the wake of his quasi-admission that he juiced, Mark McGwire has been called everything but a Tonton Macoutes, and seems to have sealed any chance he might have had of winning free admission into the Hall of Fame.

Now I'll give you this: McGwire's mea culpa was overdue, self-serving, semi-graceless and stinking of denial, and the orchestrated Tony LaRussa follow-on was downright mendacious and insulting. McGwire uncorked that old shibboleth about steroids not giving a guy the ability to hit. He flexed that pathetic excuse that he shot up for a decade to recover from injuries. LaRussa insisted he didn't know his slugger juiced, even after McGwire's admission by omission before Congress five years ago. (It's worth noting that LaRussa is a lawyer. He knows what obfuscating sounds like.)

But here's the truth that no one, particularly those 20-year BBWAA members with HOF votes, wants to acknowledge: we're all collaborators. We liked being on the record-breaking train and we didn't want our trip upended by a hormone scandal. More than that, steroid use was widespread, if not rampant, for years, but not a single reporter whom I'm aware of ever documented it. Many of the very best players of the day -- Jose Canseco, Roger Clemens, Andy Pettitte, Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, Barry Bonds, Ivan Rodriguez, Miguel Tejada, Jason Giambi and Rafael Palmeiro -- were apparently poking themselves with needles, and not a single reporter knew? Please.

So spare me the righteous indignation. You were in on it. The main difference between you and Mark McGwire is that Mark McGwire has finally taken some responsibility for his role.

b