Fergie’s take

So Ferguson Jenkins wants Mark McGwire to apologize to all the pitchers whose careers he may have shortened with his cheating. I think Jenkins is only partially right on this.

There might have been one or two pitchers who seemed like McGwire had their number, but I seriously doubt he alone ended guys’ careers by lighting them up.

Maybe collectively all the bulked-up cheaters owe some pitchers apologies, but Jenkins can’t just single out McGwire. He’s an easy target because he is the most recent player to admit to using steroids.

Jenkins says he knows how he would have handled seeing McGwire and his ilk at the plate — plunk ‘em.

But Barry Bonds already figured that one out. Just wear the thickest elbow pad on Earth.

And let’s not forget the obvious here: Hitters weren’t the only ones who were juiced in the ’90s. Ever heard of Roger Clemens???

So in the end, Jenkins is right. McGwire does owe some more apologies. But so do a lot of guys.

Thanks for ruining my childhood

So Alex Rodriguez admitted to using performance-enhancing drugs on Monday.

Great. Another ex-Texas Ranger is linked to steroids. There’s another bobblehead for the dumpster.

Just add A-Rod to a long list of guilty – or at least highly suspicious – Rangers, such as Rafael Palmeiro, Juan Gonzalez and Ivan Rodriguez.

I actually used to admire A-Rod’s tireless, some would say obsessive, work ethic and fluid fielding.

As fellow lefties (I played varsity softball in high school), my daddy and I admired Raffy’s smooth-as-butter swing. You could always count on RBI-machine Juan Gonzalez to come through for a big, clutch hit.

Let’s not forget iron man Pudge Rodriguez, who was always praised for playing the most physically demanding position in the sweltering Texas heat with consistent catlike-ness.

All tarnished memories.

Actually, I still have my Rafael Palmeiro bobblehead, as well as the commemorative poster I got when I attended the game in which he hit his 500th career home run.

There’s even a place on the poster for my ticket from Sunday, May 11, 2003. Section 45, Row 14, Seat 2. Less than 10 rows away from where that ball landed. My family was even visible on TV.

These were handed out at the game. Notice the classy Viagra ad in the corner.

Also in my collection is a yellowed newspaper clipping from Dec. 12, 2000. The corners have greasy spots from being hung on my bedroom wall with Sticky-Tac. From the Star-Telegram, the page features a cutout of A-Rod in a Mariners uniform, seemingly paused in the motion of turning two. To the right is a breakdown of A-Rod’s skills at the five tools of diamond-played sports. All five are favorable reviews.

This page ran in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram after he signed his record-breaking contract. It also hung on my wall for several years to inspire my little softball heart.

I have an autographed Rusty Greer jersey, too. I am 99 percent sure it, however, is safe.

So what do I, as well as all the other once-impressionable youth who are now in our 20s, do? The people who grew up with Mickey Mantle, Hank Aaron and Nolan Ryan as their heroes don’t have this problem. If players did anything illegal in those days, it likely didn’t enhance their performances. (Except for Dock Ellis.) And by the time the infants of today are old enough to enjoy the sport and have a favorite team, there will probably be much better ways of testing for steroids.

To me, A-Rod is like the straw that broke the camel’s back. I’m done. I’m tired of it. Wipe those years from my memory.

What really matters are the memories I made going to games with my family and friends. The dollar hot dogs, the fireworks, and the quiet nights talking shop with my dad are so much more important than a few collectibles.