It's a Red Sox fan's dream:  Giambi, Sheffield, Clemens, Pettitte, and now Alex Rodriguez.  The Yankees are trading in the "House that Ruth Built" for the "House that Roids Built" this year.  We get the rare opportunity to prove to Rodriguez, contrary to what he was told by Derek Jeter, that we indeed are booing the name on the back of the jersey in addition to the name on the front.  We do in fact dislike him more than the other guys for a number of reasons.  Now, the ultimate in ammunition:  A positive steroids test and subsequent admission?  It couldn't get any better than this...

     So why isn't this any fun for me?

     Don't get me wrong.  I'll be joining in every jeer the Fenway Faithful can come up with when I go to the first Saturday Sox-Yankee game this season.  I may even try to come up with a few myself if the mood strikes.  However, there is a piece of me that is truly devastated by this whole thing.

     Only last month, "Alex the Great" was charged with the sacred duty of washing away the stains of the steroids era.  When Barry Bonds juiced his way past Hank Aaron for first place on the all-time home run list, fans of the game were looking to A-Rod to make it to 800, effectively erasing Barry Bonds from the history books, even before #756 landed in the stands.  Unfortunately for us, that glimmer of hope is now history itself.  With the events of the past week, there is now a disappointingly large chance that one of the most cherished records in America's pastime will forever be tarnished by the steroids era.  Think it doesn't matter because you would never root for a Yankee to break a record like that?  Think again.  Let's say this year, Joe Dimaggio's 56-game hit streak (what I consider to be the greatest MLB record) is in jeopardy, with Dustin Pedroia sitting pretty at 56 games.  Beautiful imagery, right?  What if that person is known doper Gary Sheffield?  Sure, he's not a Yankee anymore, but it doesn't sit right, does it?

     As a Red Sox fan, shouldn't we be rooting for such a great record to be in the hands of a Tiger (or whichever team decides to take on his rapidly declining body this season) as opposed to a Yankee?  The Boston fan in me couldn't care less about the validity of the record.  But, the baseball fan in me would be disgusted.

     What happens if, and when, Alex Rodriguez blows by Barry Bonds and puts the home run record out of reach?  Sure, he has a great story.  He was a dumb kid, everyone was doing it, and it was only from 2001-2003.  And, sure, he's stated he's proven he doesn't need them with his performance since the positive test, but how do we know?  How are we supposed to believe he doesn't have a truckload of HGH pulling up to the back door of his mansion on the first of every month?

     He may not be as dumb as Rodney Harrison and buy the stuff with his own credit card, but has anone gone through Madonna's credit card receipts looking for BALCO slips or extra hormones here and there?  Everyone has their excuses or explanations.  Jason Giambi was sorry (for what exactly, we'll never know.  Even Giambi himself may never know), Rodney Harrison was trying to recover from injuries, and so was Andy Pettitte.  Mark McGwire wasn't there to talk about the past, and Roger Clemens misremembered it.  Sammy Sosa forgot how to speak English, and Rafael Palmeiro was just an idiot.  No matter who it is, what their reasons were, or whether or not they can prove they're clean now, it always leaves you with an awful taste in your mouth.  The bitter, bile-summoning taste of being cheated.  And we've all been cheated.