The cusp is an unforgiving place. The Cleveland Indians and Milwaukee Brewers found themselves there last season, poised to parlay surprising 2005s into bountiful 2006s, until they were reminded, in rather abrupt fashion, that one good year does not equal a VIP pass into the playoffs.

Neither the Indians nor Brewers cracked .500. Both had issues with injuries and depth and fielding. Indians general manager Mark Shapiro calls the season "underachieving." Brewers GM Doug Melvin prefers "disappointing." Either word works.

The Indians and Brewers are plenty alike already, from their market size to their reliance on a young core. In fact, Milwaukee happened to be the site of the Indians' last World Series win. It was at County Stadium, which was the on-screen stand-in for Cleveland Municipal Stadium in "Major League," but whatever. When your last real championship came in 1948, sometimes fiction must suffice.

Truth is, these Indians and Brewers teams could compete for the World Series with

When historians look back at the 2006 season, they might not fixate on what actually happened during it. What last year begat – the greatest rookie class in perhaps 25 years – should be a greater gift than the pleasure of watching Ryan Howard blast 58 home runs and the pain of watching the Detroit Tigers' pitchers try to field the ball in the World Series.

The list seems endless: Justin Verlander, Jonathan Papelbon, Jered Weaver, Ryan Zimmerman, Hanley Ramirez, Prince Fielder, Joel Zumaya, Matt Cain, Stephen Drew, Cole Hamels, Chad Billingsley, Russell Martin, Andre Ethier, Nick Markakis, Melky Cabrera, Josh Barfield, Chuck James, Jonathan Broxton, Scott Olsen, Josh Johnson, Carlos Quentin, Conor Jackson, Dan Uggla, Adam Wainwright, Ronny Paulino, Ian Kinsler, Josh Willingham, Matt Kemp, Andy Marte and Jeremy Hermida.

Oh, and Francisco Liriano, who might have won the American League Cy Young Award had his elbow not blown up.

So forgive 2007 if it is not the horn of plenty that its

The candidates for the final four spots of the reigning world champion's pitching rotation include a 32-year-old who hasn't started a game since he pitched in Class A 10 years ago, a free-agent acquisition who once tested positive for steroids, a prospect who spent all of last season in the bullpen, a long reliever with a face suited for Gerber jars, a fashion plate for those who prefer their hats flat-billed and a guy named Kip.

And yet Walt Jocketty, the general manager of the St. Louis Cardinals, sounds calm and confident less than two weeks before his pitchers and catchers report to Jupiter, Fla. He thinks Braden Looper (the old guy) can make the transition after a career as a reliever, likes the upside of Ryan Franklin (the steroid user in 2005) for only $1 million, can't wait to see Adam Wainwright (the reliever) start after his dominant postseason as closer, remembers Brad Thompson (the babyface) throwing 57 2/3 consecutive scoreless innings as a starter in Double-A, believes

He likes to say every day is an adventure now. Used to be Rusty Begnaud would slip on a uniform, tug up his socks, curl the bill of his cap just so, amble to the mound and grip a baseball, feeling its scars and bruises before trying to sneak 85-mph fastballs past hitters. That seemed like quite the escapade then.

Blue-colored food is a real adventure. Takes some kind of a stomach to ingest dyed rations so doctors can monitor your lungs and ensure they don't fill with more fluid.

Turning over is a real adventure. The first time Begnaud tried, he couldn't do it. Same for the second time, and the third time, and on and on. Even now it's a struggle, a strapping 26-year-old reduced to teaching himself things he learned before he turned 1.

Painting is a real adventure. Because his fingers no longer move, Begnaud uses a special instrument and, with only the atrophied muscles in his arms guiding his hand, makes jagged brushstrokes.

And yet how beautiful was the first piece he finished: A Major

Here's a curious case for all sides of the steroid debate, for the amateur lawyers who have bastardized the concept of innocent until proven guilty, the hard-liners who view performance-enhancing drugs as Satan's elixir and the majority that cares not to blacken or whiten a gray issue.

On the day George Mitchell – baseball's appointed steroid deputy dog, with all the power of a cap gun and tin badge – barked that steroids are "an egregious form of cheating," the Texas Rangers moved a step closer to signing Sammy Sosa, who may or may not have used them on the way to 588 career home runs.

How Major League Baseball reacts to performance-enhancing drug use has always been as important as the use itself, for it was baseball's laissez-faire attitude that got it entangled in this whole mess in the first place, and its stubbornness that led to the flaying on Capitol Hill almost two years ago. On that day, Sosa lost his capacity to speak English – an ability that, miracle of miracles, returned

They were both on a mission this week, the two men who bet their careers on each other.

Gil Meche, owner of perhaps the most ridiculed contract handed out in a ridiculous offseason, was driving around southern Louisiana in search of one last bit of gluttony before he started training for the most important season of his baseball life.

"I'm about to go get some Popeye's," Meche said.

Dayton Moore, the Kansas City Royals general manager who gave Meche the five-year, $55 million deal, indulged in something equally enjoyable, and without the saturated fat: Convincing Royals fans who gathered at the team's caravan stops in southeastern Kansas why on earth a pitcher whose career earned-run average is 4.65 deserved such a deal.

As much as Moore wanted to talk about Meche's fastball and curveball and how he's just 28 years old, none of those things resonate anymore, not with a Royals fan base that watched them lose at least 100 games for the fourth time in five seasons. So Thursday, and all

Of all the places for the tortuous BALCO case to end up, even this seemed extreme: A potential showdown in the United States Supreme Court balancing the cost of busting steroid cheats with the sanctity of the Bill of Rights in the computer age.

Oh, it figured to get dirty, certainly, with San Francisco Giants outfielder Barry Bonds preening and posturing from the get-go. Government officials abhor arrogance, and so what should have been a quick-and-easy bust-and-run case has mushroomed into a battle over whether the confidential records of more than 100 players who tested positive for steroids in 2003 are available for the government's use in pursuing its case against Bonds and, perhaps, distributors of performance-enhancing drugs.

A federal appeals court ruled Wednesday that the copious records from drug-testing-lab computers, seized with a search warrant seeking information regarding only 11 BALCO clients, were the property of the government. Before it can enter any of the evidence

More New Year's resolutions: NBA | NFL | NASCAR

Baseball's paradoxical 2006 is about to end with record attendance during the regular season and awful TV ratings for the postseason, with labor peace in October and owners complaining about the money they're spending by December, with no major-league steroid suspensions during the regular season and no one naive enough to believe that performance-enhancing drugs have been eradicated.

Not that the sport is suffering through an identity crisis, by any means, but it's obvious that a few tweaks are necessary. And what better way to set goals for 2007 than with New Year's resolutions for some of baseball's biggest and brightest.

Alex Rodriguez: I resolve to win a World Series. Please stop laughing. That is not very nice.

Derek Jeter: I resolve … not to laugh … at – OK, do I really have to do this? You serious? Fine, I won't laugh at Alex Rodriguez. On Tuesdays. Maybe.

Dontrelle Willis: I resolve to pee in toilets.

Kenny Williams: I resolve