So, I guess this is the point at which we finally look at the steroid era and concede there is nothing else that would surprise us - short, of course, of Cal Ripken Jr. suddenly going on 60 Minutes to admit that all the milk he was drinking was spiked with stanozolol.
Alex Rodriguez has come forward to confess he used illegal performance-enhancing drugs during the early years of this decade and he's truly sorry for it. Never mind that what he's really sorry about is that his positive steroid test in 2003 that was supposed to be anonymous got leaked to the media, but let's not split hairs. The most talented baseball player in the world was juicing and he's apologizing, and what are we supposed to do now?
I really don't know what we're supposed to do, but I know what we will do, and it isn't the same thing we'll do for Barry Bonds or Mark McGwire or Roger Clemens. We'll eventually forgive - if not forget - and send A-Rod off to the Hall of Fame in 15 years or so.
We'll do that because he got the right advice from his high-paid spin doctors. He came clean and threw himself on the mercy of a forgiving sports nation. He didn't squirm in front of Congress or allegedly lie to a grand jury. He took whatever control he could get over the situation and began the process of putting it behind him.
Don't get me wrong. This doesn't take him off the hook for being the latest big star to slink out of the game of shadows. He cheated, and that will always be part of his legacy, but he obviously was paying attention while many of his performance-enhancing predecessors were spontaneously bursting into flames.
He learned from Jason Giambi, who was one of the first to apologize for his steroid-related transgressions, even though - for legal and contractual reasons - he never specifically said why he was apologizing. He learned from Andy Pettitte, who somehow retained his fresh-faced, boyish persona after admitting he got human growth hormone from personal trainer Brian McNamee. He learned that the truth, no matter how long you withhold it, will eventually set you free to resume your statistical march to Cooperstown.
And he will get there, because he has something that Bonds and Clemens don't - almost half of his baseball career still in front of him.
Time really does heal all wounds, but Clemens was at the end of his career and Bonds was forced to end his, leaving them no opportunity to rebuild their relationship with the fans or reinforce, with a continued high level of performance during the steroid-testing era, that their greatness did not really come out of a syringe.
