61 and cringing

we all rejoiced, and we should have rejoiced, or so we thought. who was to know that our precious home run record was jeopardized by the use of steroids. b/c we felt overzealous, overly enthusiastic, ridiculously overjoyed at the thought that our home-grown american-bred mcgwire was the undoubted king of homeruns, the new sultan of swat. how were we to know that it was all unjust? how did mcgwire touch with his heart maris' bat? in 1991, fay vincent ordered that there was but one single-season home-run record, 61. how were we to know how quickly the mighty who conquered this record would fall, how rapidly their images would tarnish?

when we think back on mcgwire and sosa, and the records that fell, will we remember the fear, the joy, the excitement, the pure exuberance, the thrill of baseball that summer? or will we look back on it with an uncertain air, as if we didn't know better? b/c the truth is, we didn't. and to make matters worse, we loved it; baseball became the focal point of the entire nation, once again embracing it's position as america's favorite past-time. we were enthralled, enraptured with this homerun race. but yet it was all a farce, an enigma brought on by the use of illegal steroids. but we didn't know that then, and so we cheered. all of america cheered. this brought our country together as much as the death of jfk. we had no idea as the wool was pulled over our eyes. we embraced sosa and mcgwire as if they were our own, an entire country wrapped up in the race to beat a record 40 years in the past. what could we do - a country build on the ideals of making one's own success. of course we would eat it up, but what does that prove? sometimes a man's success does not exemplify the best of him.