After three seasons in St. Louis, where forgiveness came easy and maybe wasn't even necessary, Mark McGwire is a reasonable bet to become the next hitting coach in Los Angeles. That's close enough to home, where he was raised, went to college, lives and raises the next generation of McGwires.
Good for him. Good for his family. And good for the Dodgers. By all accounts, McGwire is gifted in teaching the mechanics and psyche required to navigate a big-league batter's box. Albert Pujols, for a decade the most talented hitter on the planet, adores Mark McGwire. But, you know, there's that other thing. By the time they open the batting cages at Camelback Ranch in Arizona, three years will have passed since McGwire transformed himself from victim of groundless accusations to victim of his surroundings. It was a neat trick, brought together live on television with heaving shoulders and soaked cheeks. It wasn't the lying or the admission that so turned me off. It was McGwire's explanation for using whatever performance-enhancers he gulped or shot-up or whatever. "Looking back," he said, "I wish I had never played during the steroid era."
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