"The only thing I ask of this group today and the American people is to judge me from this day forward." Alex Rodriguez, New York Yankees, February 17, 2009

I've decided to forgive Alex Rodriguez.

As one of "the American people" (I wasn't invited to the media circus that served as the kickoff to Mr. Rodriguez's apology tour), I think forgiving the once-in-a-generation talent that was A-Rod before his fall from grace drove home the true meaning of his other, less auspicious nickname is the least I can do.

I am nothing if not magnanimous.

Ahem.

Let us forget, for a moment, the silliness of Rodriguez' story and take a look at the basic gist of it.

1) In 2001, Rodriguez signed a stratospheric, $250 million, 10-year deal to play baseball for the Texas Rangers.

2) Rodriguez decided that the pressure to live up to such contract, the pressure to actually perform like he deserved that quarter-of-a-billion dollar deal, was simply too much for any mere mortal, regardless of skill and natural talent.

3) Rodriguez decided he needed "help" to live up to the deal.

4) So Rodriguez and his cousin got some drugs. Supposedly, they got these drugs in the Dominican Republic, where Rodriguez claims they were "legal" to purchase, you know, over the counter.

5) Rodriguez and his cousin knew neither what these drugs really were (only that they were "legal" to purchase!) nor what they were supposed to do. They did, apparently, know that these drugs were not "Tic-Tacs." That incredibly astute observation was confirmed at the apology conference.

6) Rodriguez, the quarter-of-a-billion-dollar-man, then allowed his cousin to administer the not-Tic-Tacs, presumably with a needle, presumably into Rodriguez, over some period not less than two years and not exceeding three years. During this time, Rodriguez' cousin came no closer to becoming a doctor, a nurse, a vet or a shaman than he was when the Dominican Tweedledee and Tweedledum set off on their medical mystery tour.

7) Rodriguez performed at levels he never had before and never has since, averaging 52 home runs with a 302 batting average, per year.

8) Rodriguez failed at least one drug test as Major League Baseball conducted its initial, league-wide drug-testing program.

9) Rodriguez was traded to the New York Yankees.

10) Having moved from the white-hot glare of media attention and inspection so prevalent in Arlington, Texas, to the relative journalistic and baseball backwater of New York City and the House That Ruth Built, Rodriguez was seemingly relieved of any fears he had of living up to his contractual obligations.

11) Rodriguez stopped using any and all banned performance enhancing substances. (Anybody who doubts the veracity of this part of the story need only ask any Yankees fan about Rodriguez' playoff performance.)

12) Rodriguez signed a new, 10-year, $275-million deal with the Yankees in 2007, complete with performance-based incentives that would give him more money for breaking certain MLB homerun records.

13) Asked, point blank, on national television, if he'd ever used banned performance-enhancing drugs, Rodriguez denied it.

14) After defaming the journalist (Rodriguez likened her to a stalker) who so inconceivably and rudely did her job and pulled back the curtain on his shenanigans, Rodriguez backpedaled and decided he had, actually, used something he thought might, maybe, give him an edge and that was, shockingly, both banned by MLB and illegal to obtain and use without a prescription.

15) Rodriguez held a watery-eyed press conference to kick off Spring Training at which he admitted using something (he didn't really know what), blamed that use on age, stupidity, pressure and naiveté, and asked for forgiveness and an opportunity to move forward.

So, fine. Here we are, back through the looking glass. And here's the deal I propose we all make with Alex:

You are forgiven. All is forgotten. You get to play out the rest of your career as a professional athlete, with all the trimmings and trappings that come with it.

But you have to start over. You don't get to keep any of the numbers you've piled up to date. You start from scratch, right here, right now.

Lifetime batting average? .000. Home runs? None. Singles, doubles, triples? Nada, zero, zilch. Gold gloves? Not yet.

If Alex Rodriguez wants to be in the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, he has the rest of his career to make the case. But the C.V. he's put together to date is too circumspect, too rickety, too questionable to be considered.

Most people would kill for the chance to start over with clean slate, from scratch, with neither obligation nor presumption. For A-Rod, it seems the least we can do.