by David Eckstein

Shoot!  Shoot!  Shoot!  Oh, cream and sugar, I’m in for it now.  Here I was thinking that this day was never going to come.  What a numbskull I was!  But it’s almost here, so it’s time to man up. 

Once that Mitchell Report drops, it’s curtains for your ol’ pal Davey Eckstein.

I can’t really blame Mr. Mitchell for coming after me.  I mean, if he wants to make an example of someone, who better than a two-time World Champion, a World Series MVP and a guy who once hit grand slams in back-to-back games?  As Father Morris always says at Sunday mass, “heavy is the head that wears the crown”.  Boy howdy, I understand that now more than ever. 

"You're right as rain on that one, Scotty - the sky is definitely falling."

I don’t know what I was expecting.  I dang sure knew the risks I was taking when I got caught up in all that nonsense.  But once I got started, I just couldn’t stop!  HGH, the Cream, the Clear, greenies, caffeine pills, poppers…you name it, it’s been in me.  It got so loony that I wasn’t even asking questions about the stuff anymore.  If someone told me it would help me add an extra plate on the bench, or give me that extra little blast when I was doing quads, well sir, I’d be pulling down my pants and saying “jam it in my rump” quicker than a gator shuts its trap.

I really felt I had it all under control, though, at least lately.  Heck, I know people were talking back in 2005 when my power numbers blew up like an unwatched moonshine still.  I mean, eight homers and a .395 slugging percentage?  I may as well have dropped a dime on myself!  Even Barry was telling me to ease up.

"C'mon, kid, you're blowing it for all of us."

I’ve reined it in since then.  I’ve been choking up more, levelling out my swing.  Now, it wasn’t like I wasn’t tempted to take some big ol’ rips out there every once in a while.  But as Gramps always said, when the heat’s on your tail, stay out of the sun.  Gramps, he ran moonshine. And unlike his ninny of a grandson, he had the good sense to never get caught.

Oh, but a fat lot of good easing up on the big boy stats got me when I was hanging out at TNA Wrestling every other week!  Jeez louise, I should have known this would come back to bite me: 

Really, David?  You’re one of the focal points of the federal government’s investigation into the use of performance enhancing drugs in baseball, and you’re giving public shout-outs to Kurt Angle?  I mean, talk about your all-time cement heads!  Sometimes I think I have mashed potatoes for brains.

Aw, crickets.  Well, there’s nothing left to do now but get ready to face the music.  I’ll start writing my press-conference apology, I guess.  Now, what’s the standard order - “God, church, family, teammates”, or “God, family, church, teammates”?  Maybe I should give Michael Irvin a call.

I only have one request.  When the hammer does drop, I don’t care if they suspend me.  I don’t care if they kick me out of the league.  I don’t care if they make me ineligible for the Hall of Fame.  Heck, they can even take back my World Series MVP.

But it would break my heart if, when it was all said and done, my kids looked me up in the history books, and next to my career home run total it would say “30″…with an asterix. 

Dang you, Davey.  Dang you straight to heck.