Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word.

Mark McGwire admitted today to using performance-enhancing drugs (PEDs) throughout most of his career.

His use of PEDs always seemed an open secret, and I've read countless columns by sportswriters who felt McGwire shouldn't darken the doors of the Hall of Fame not because his numbers came up short, but because they felt he had juiced. I've never thought McGwire belonged in the Hall simply because I believe he was a one-dimensional ballplayer. The steroids for me were Exhibit B.

McGwire's homer totals are gaudy; his home run ratio (1 per 10.61 at-bats) is a major league record. And, yes, he once won a Gold Glove. But his stat line also indicates that while a needle in the ass can build Paul Bunyon-like bulk, it won't help you get more than 1,626 hits over 16 seasons or nudge your career batting average higher than a pedestrian .263. It is also worth asking whether years of steroid use contributed to the five full injury-marred seasons in which McGwire failed to play in even 100 games. When McGwire built that McMansion on his bones, the foundation was bound to crack.

A few days ago, I posted about a possible solution to finding a place in Cooperstown for Steroid Era players. But McGwire's admission won't cause me to change my mind about his worthiness to join baseball's greats in the Hall of Fame. Viewing Big Mac's stat line, I see a juiced-up ode to baseball's tacit, winking PED approval, a fan base run amok on Homer Hysteria, and a Bash Brother eager to cash in on both.

I don't have a problem with McGwire momentos in Cooperstown. Bats, balls, uniforms, whatever; the Hall is a living history. Moving forward, I hope he finds peace back in the dugout as the Cardinals new hitting instructor. Still, his apology shouldn't earn him the plaque his lopsided numbers simply don't justify.