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What's Love Got to Do with It?

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Anyone up for a little Bohemian Rhapsody? How about the pigeon dance? Perhaps some Metallica and AC/DC? What about "I Got You Babe"?

Actually, it's more like "What's Love Got to Do With it?"

For myself, who used to adore Jose Canseco back in his heyday, it was weird to see Canseco and McGwire in the same room without a celebratory forearm smash. The beauty of the Bash Brothers has evaporated into a dark bathroom stall, flushed down the same toilet as those discarded needles.

I felt nothing but shame watching childhood heroes topple embarrassingly in front of the country today. One a clown contradicting himself at every turn and the other remaining mute, shaking his head like Jerry Seinfeld pushing away Poppie's special dish.

Yet there was also a strange sense of intrigue as McGwire sat 10 feet from Canseco. It was like watching Caesar and Brutus get together one more time. Only this time, it was in front of the Roman Senate and each was armed with the Fifth Amendment instead of a dagger.

I'm not shocked it's seeming more and more likely McGwire took steroids (although I'm still of the mind that we are innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt - I hold that beautifully American notion dear). But to me, this hearing seemed to sum it up in a nice bow. The climax of a tragic play.

The grand emperors of Athletics Nation were suddenly denying our grand past. Our great history hath been besmirched.

And yet all I could think was that what was likely our greatest offensive duo had been reduced to Bert and Ernie, Beavis and Butthead and Wayne and Garth. Carcicatures or cartoons of their former selves.

Only not nearly as funny or entertaining. More than once today, Evil Bert reared his ugly head.