Mark McGwire: The Only Guy Who Can Make John Edwards Look Good

By Zamboni

In the wake of Michael Vick's restoration to the Philadelphia Eagles, we cats recall asking why in the world we should ever care about football. In other words, by accepting animal-murderer Vick back into its fold, the NFL had forever forfeited any credibility it might have had with us.

Now, for different reasons, we fear we must ask the same question of professional baseball. Not that it hadn't occurred to us earlier, mind you — it's just that with the tearful confession of phony home-run hitter Mark McGwire that he used steroids, it's been crystallized for us anew.

Actually, for us this is sad. We used to care passionately about baseball. Not only was it one of the few sports that didn't thrust misogyny in our faces in the form of jiggling cheerleaders — it was a gorgeous, elegant game, one that could go on forever, like an endless summer afternoon, or turn on a dime like a sudden bolt of lightning. The fact that we had a crush on Bobby Ojeda helped.

But we already were on the verge of throwing up our paws and saying, forget it: Baseball coddles these dopers, Bud Selig obviously cooked up some deal in which he could declare that "the steroid era is basically over," and McGwire will remain in the record books, and maybe even enter Cooperstown, without lasting shame or penalty.

It's all fake. And it just makes us want to hack up a hairball. Especially when someone like McGwire tries to drag God into it. So for all the cheaters in the world, from McGwire to Bonds to Lance Armstrong to George W. Bush, we cats flout our usual no-profanity rule and just say two words: Fuck you.