Baseball's Latest Black Eye Brings a Tear to Mine

At some point during the last five years, I convinced myself I didn't really care about the sport I had grown up with.

I remember first reading Game of Shadows and being utterly indignant that Barry Bonds cheated his way past Hank Aaron's all-time home run record.

But, somewhere between the congressional hearings, declarations about "not talking about the past," Palmeiro's finger wag, the Clemens vs. McNamee saga, and A-Rod's hideous spray tan, I thought I had become so jaded none of this crap really mattered to me.

So, when I heard about Sammy Sosa's name appearing on the 2003 list of players who had tested positive for performance-enhancing drugs, my first reaction was that of a jaded cynic.

After all, this was basically a foregone conclusion, right?

"Say it ain't so, Sammy," I thought sarcastically. "My world doesn't make sense anymore."

So, I'm watching Mike and Mike in the Morning on ESPN2 today, and they're rehashing the Sosa story because it broke after they went off the air.

One of the show's producers, Joaquin, came up with a little ditty and sang to the tune of "Those Were the Days" from the TV show All in the Family.

The lyrics of the parody focused on the fact that everyone in the country basically got swept up in the 1998 home run chase between Sosa and Mark McGwire, and how we were basically duped.

For some inexplicable reason, I got choked up listening to the song.

In fact, if I'm completely honest, a few tears rolled down my face.

The emotional reaction came as a shock to me, initially.

Like I said, I had convinced myself that baseball was an insignificant part of my life.

Who cares if all the big names of my youth were juicing?

But, as the song played, I vividly remembered that year and what it meant to me as a young baseball fan.

At the time, baseball was still recovering from the strike in 1994. Fan interest waned, and many wondered if the sport would ever achieve its former standing as the national pastime.

Personally, I was still bitter about the strike season because I was a Padres fan.

When the strike happened, my idol, Tony Gwynn, was hitting .394. I was convinced (and still am) Gwynn would have hit .400 that year and become the first player since Ted Williams in 1941 to achieve that lofty mark.

Just as I was ready to give up on the MLB completely, the chase began.

It was the most incredible thing I had ever seen.

I was glued to the TV all summer long, watching these two titans crack home run after home run.

It was a magical time.

The chase really got me back into baseball, and just in time to watch my Padres make it to the World Series for the first time since 1984.

I was so glad (and eternally grateful) Gwynn stayed in San Diego and got one more chance to win a title (even though the Yankees swept the Padres).

Now comes the (concrete) realization that those mythic sluggers weren't so mythic after all. The big names that got me back into baseball were both frauds.

Instead of getting mad, indignant, or flippant, I was overwhelmed by feelings of sadness.

1998 was such a glorious time for baseball.

Those really were the days.

More than a decade later, I look back and think about how stupid and gullible I was.

Like The Who song said, "I'll get on my knees and pray I don't get fooled again."

Instead, I'll just quietly mourn the passing of the sport I once loved.