I'd like to apologize to the media, first off. I'm sorry for getting
you out of bed at this ungodly hour, in this weather, just so I could
get this off my chest.

I'm sorry. At some point in the past, so long ago I couldn't even give
precise details to the investigators, I did something my advisers tell
me I shouldn't have. Maybe it was drugs, maybe it was driving under the
influence, maybe it was extramarital sex caught on camera. Hell,
somewhere in there I may have killed a guy. Whatever. It doesn't matter
now. All that matters now is that I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I didn't tell the truth about this last time, or the times
before that. But I'm not here to talk about the past — nothing to be
gained from talking about the past. I did want to single out one of our
most cherished colleagues. Rick Reilly, I'm sorry I treated you with
disrespect when we last spoke, and for pouring my clubhouse garbage
over your head. I forgive you for taking that garbage to a lab. I'm
sorry you can't be here today, Rick, and I wish you a speedy recovery.

I assure you this incident did not affect the integrity of any game
during the relevant time span, which in geologic terms was an
insignificant segment of time. Nothing disgusts me more than the idea
that this honorable game could be tainted.

I know that you, as Yankee fans, could not bring yourselves to root for
a team that had an unfair advantage. I did these things simply to level
the playing field. And, no, I'm not saying my opponent also engaged in
this activity. That would be between my opponent and God. But I'm sorry
that my opponent will now have to answer to these allegations. I'm sure
he will maintain the integrity of the obfuscation.

I'm sorry I ratted out my friend. The bond among teammates is the
strongest bond a player can have, so I regret that my friend and I
misremember things. If you see my friend, please tell him: Dude. I'm
sorry. The next beer is on me. I understand they will only allow me to
bring in Styrofoam cups, for safety's sake.

I apologize to my teammates. All I wanted to do was help you guys win,
because we work so hard together and we've overcome so much adversity.
But now you can't even get from the stadium to your cars without being
assaulted by questions, and — Hey, Fox Sports guy: You're actually
standing on Freddie's sunglasses. You’d better hope that camera's not
rolling, because he will destroy you. Fox Sports guy: You're going to
want to apologize to Freddie.

I apologize to the game, most of all. Game: I'm sorry that, being an
amorphous conceptual ideal, you cannot be here personally to hear my
apology, or respond, or even pour garbage on my head. People say that
you have been ruined, but I assure you that you are not ruined. In
fact, I have a ball and a bat right here. Who would like to play?

I must regain the support and undying love of my family, in order to
truly make things right again. My wife has stood by my side throughout
the criticism and the shrinkage, showing the faith that only someone
who knows I'm her meal ticket can do. Regaining her trust will be the
first step towards bringing the fans, my bosses and the prevailing
federal and state laws around.

I look forward now to a prolonged period of self-reflection, followed
by a book deal. I think it will be quite healthy for me. I'll be
getting into my Dodge Viper now and heading home to our oceanfront
villa, where my wife and I will open a nice bottle of scotch and talk
with God (who, luck has it, has a summer bungalow just down the road)
about our next steps. I'm sorry you can't join us.

Jeremy Simon is director of communications at Colorado Rocky Mountain
School in Carbondale. He can be reached at jsimon@crms.org.