It would be nice if that's all that had to be said when trying to comprehend, 24 hours later, the unsurprising bombshell that former Oakland and St. Louis slugger Mark McGwire lobbed to the media: that he had done steroids (and other performance enhancing drugs) over a dozen years - during virtually his entire playing career - including the then-magical assault he and Sammy Sosa made on the single-season home run record in 1998.
And it would be nice if McGwire's explanation for why he did what he did could be viewed as a full, complete admission of guilt and left no questions in its wake.
And it would be nice if, when appearing on television with interviewer extraordinaire Bob Costas last night, I wasn't so skeptical of his crocodile tears and the gut feeling that this wasn't just an attempt to "come out of the steroid closet" to enhance his Hall of Fame chances.
And it would be nice if I could be as forgiving of McGwire as some would like me to be.
I'm torn on this. Like many observers, I have mixed feelings on The McGwire Problem. And like Tevye, the spiritually active father of five daughters who had seemingly daily personal discussions with the Almighty in Fiddler on the Roof and philosophically weighed pros and cons on a regular basis, for every postulate that finds its way into my left hand, I find an equally perplexing counter argument in my right.
On one hand: McGwire wishes he "had never played in the steroid era."
On the other hand: McGwire was the baseball slugger who essentially helped kick off the era in which steroids were prominent.
And on the other hand: McGwire was not the sole abuser. Do we have a choice but to judge players on their performance during an era in which there was an uneven playing field? And what about the abused of amphetamines and other similar products in the 1960s, 1970s, 1980s?
And on the other hand: He's had a long time to express his remorse and plead his case since retiring in 2001, including his infamous "I don't want to talk about the past" stance before the U.S. Congress in March 2005.
And on the other hand: The same people (whether the media or fans) demonizing McGwire today are the ones who glorified him nearly 12 years ago, even though there were suspicions a'plenty about him and his peers during the day. (Heck, Sports Illustrated named McGwire and Sosa "Sportsmen of the Year".)
And on the other hand: McGwire is a cheat, a fraud, a wolf in sheep's clothing, who profited millions by thumbing his nose at the concept of "good sportsmanship."
And on the other hand; If this prompts other prominent players associated with the steroid era (Barry Bonds? Roger Clemens? Sosa?) to go public and hammer home how widespread usage was, then perhaps McGwire's coming out party can benefit Major League Baseball (and other team and individual sports) and, more importantly, the legion of young adults who continue to idolize MLB (and other) athletes.
And on the other hand: How can I look past the numbers that were - are forever - tainted? The 70 home runs in 1998, the 583 career dingers? Putting an asterisk next to his statistics in the official MLB database cannot suffice.
McGwire wants us to accept his "apology" without further questioning, so he can move on with his life. He calls the entire steroid thing "foolish" and "a mistake," and while I agree with the former, my stomach churns over the latter in a way that Pepto cannot resolve.
A mistake? Only in the dictionary, where it is defined as (among other things), "an error in action, calculation, opinion, or judgment caused by poor reasoning, carelessness, insufficient knowledge, etc." Continual substance abuse, purportedly cloaked in secrecy from coworkers, administrators, family, friends, confidants, over an 11-year period hardly constitutes "a mistake." It was a choice, and a foolish (to use his words) choice at that. After all, Olympians had been suspended for steroid abuse prior to McGwire beginning the injection process. To designate it as "a mistake" is, to me, foolhardy and a slap in the collective face of reason and logic.
I - and the American populace - aren't that stupid.
So I sit here, trying to put the entire McGwire saga in perspective. Yeah, I'm torn on this. But not bent out of shape to the degree that I will lose any sleep. My life does not revolve around the McGwire circus. There are many bigger issues on the Gaba table that need to be addressed. I've never met McGwire. My salary, job status, social life, etc., do not rely on his presence. We have a war in Afghanistan, ongoing economic concerns, the fallacy of No Child Left Behind, and a thousand other seemingly more vital and imperative issues surrounding me.
So, yeah, I suppose at some point I can forgive McGwire for lying to me, to the powers that be, to Americans and baseball fans globally. It just might take a little longer than he would like. Perhaps a dozen years or so.
That seems fair.
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