Now we’ll see how much of this steroid business is truly righteous indignation ? and how much of it is simply selective outrage based on the overall reputation and popularity of the players involved.It was easy to channel our hatred of the surly Barry Bonds – who is a churl of great renown – into our hatred for cheaters. Ditto Roger Clemens, who, we suspect, allowed himself to get out of shape and become a mediocre pitcher in Boston ? THEN started juicing so he could extend his career and cement his legacy.Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa may have helped save baseball, but they were never good enough as players to warrant the adulation hitting home runs heaped upon them. They were not worthy in much the same way Roger Maris wasn’t deemed worthy 37 years earlier.Alex Rodriguez? Please. He could cure cancer and there are people (around here, anyway) who would find something wrong with it. And, of course, Manny Ramirez quit on the Red Sox and forced them to trade him.But now, it’s David Ortiz’ turn in the barrel. Now let’s see how repugnant cheaters REALLY are in the minds of the masses.This isn’t some phony poseur like Jose Canseco, or someone like Rafael Palmeiro, whose skills never seemed to jibe with his statistics.This is David Ortiz. Big Papi. Boston’s Mr. Clutch. The author – pretty much – of the end of the Curse of the Bambino. It is a devastating blow to the naiveté of those who may have still thought there was at least one beacon of purity in this mess of deception.Ortiz got an extended pass at the start of this season during his epic – and unprecedented (at least as far as his career here goes) slump. Whereas the likes of J.D. Drew have been booed into the ground for statistics not even close to being as bad as Ortiz’, Papi had the near unanimous support of Red Sox Nation.This is because he’s built up a hefty cachet thanks to his clutch hits and overall affable manner. Ramirez was the maddening man-child; Ortiz was the lovable stuffed animal. It was tough to hate anyone who appeared to enjoy what he’d been given with such gusto.So, how much do we hate cheaters now?I think we can put one issue to rest, thank goodness. We’ll never have to worry about whether Ortiz will be eligible for the Hall of Fame, because Ortiz wasn’t built to last.He got a late start, his body is already breaking down, and not only will he not play long enough to be seriously considered, it’s tough to consider anyone immortal if he never plays defense.That’s OK. Some people are destined to be supernovas and some are lucky to see their stars shine much longer. Ortiz would definitely be in the former category.But there are other things we need to sort out, too. For example, we’ve already had at least some of the luster from the Patriots’ three Super Bowl titles taken off by the whole videotape episode. Now, perhaps, the sheen from the 2004 and 2007 world championships could be tainted because the legitimacy of two of their principal components is under question.This whole steroid issue is starting to remind me of the constant drumbeat of accusations and revelations in the bike racing community, especially after Marblehead native Tyler Hamilton was caught blood doping after winning a gold medal in the 2004 Olympics after being maniacally vocal about how he didn’t cheat.The sport had a reputation for being dirty, and, I suppose, its elite participants must have felt that as long as resistance to the underhanded training methods was minimal, they were almost bound to join in ? or be left out.Similarly, steroids and baseball go back a lot farther than McGwire and Sosa. For far too long, baseball (and its players’ union) almost totally ignored the problem, hoping that it would just go away. It didn’t.Moreover, the big money went to the players who, as it turns out, were using steroids ? and who were suspected of doing so all along. The hypocrisy then – as well as now – was staggering.This isn’t to excuse anyone, or to minimize accountability. But it just prove