America's steroid problem

The only surprising thing about Mark McGwire's admission he used steroids is that he admitted it. Even casual observers of baseball had more than an inkling that all those late-blooming Popeye-sized muscles and the amazing home run performance — far and away greater than anything Babe Ruth or Roger Maris had managed in their primes — were not just the result of practice.

That said, McGwire's tearful confession this week did seem to be heartfelt. He had no other legitimate motivation to come clean other than, as he said, because he felt an obligation to do so.

But by coming clean, he has once again turned the spotlight on Major League Baseball itself. How will the league react? How should it treat items in the record book that may be tainted?

This is more than just a question for baseball fans. It's more than just a question for baseball. The culture of performance-enhancing drugs may start at the top of the sports world, but it penetrates deep into the nation's fabric. Even in Utah, high school students have been known to use them. When that happens, the risk of heart damage, liver disease, cancer, strokes and other ills becomes all too real. This is why President George W. Bush, a few years ago, made the fight against such drugs a part of his State of the Union address.

The health of the nation's young athletes is at risk. So is their integrity. They need to understand that a record for home runs, touchdowns or the 100-meter dash doesn't matter as much as the virtues that legitimately bring a person to those marks.

Baseball's commissioner's office could declare a period of amnesty and encourage all current or former players who have used performance-enhancing drugs to come clean without penalty. But it's too late for that. McGwire himself said he couldn't tell the truth during congressional hearings for fear of legal reprisals. Certainly, Barry Bonds, another player suspected of steroid use, wouldn't admit to it now after already testifying to a grand jury. The public may be doomed to a long dribbling of information, more confessions such as this one or that of Alex Rodriguez last year. That won't be good for the game.

We are encouraged by McGwire's statement that "baseball is really different now — it's been cleaned up." That may be difficult for a cynical public to believe, but the deflated hitting numbers seem to indicate it is so. However, baseball ought to decide now what it will do one day when some player — Albert Pujols, perhaps — hits 62 legitimate home runs. Will that be a record, or will fans have to endure a lifetime of wondering whether 73 is more than just a number bought at the expense of the game's integrity.