Stephanie McMahon Q&A:

What's not to believe?

The San Francisco Chronicle is reporting that federal investigators have been told Barry Bonds, Jason Giambi, Gary Sheffield and others received steroids from BALCO Laboratories. I don't believe it.

Gifted athletes such as these fine gentlemen certainly wouldn't need to cheat. And while I heard there is a mountain of evidence behind the allegation I haven't paid much attention.

I'm too busy waiting for a Nigerian businessman to wire some long-lost fortune into my bank account.

Perhaps I should have been suspicious when Bonds' head swelled and his baseball ability got so ridiculous that you either had to walk him or he'd hit it into the Pacific Ocean.

But while I was going to look into this, I got sidetracked pursuing a business opportunity where I can make millions merely by placing "tiny classified advertisements in newspapers."

I also am sure that Sammy Sosa isn't involved in this "steroid scandal" (as the player haters like to call it) because if there is one thing we know about that guy it's that he'd never cheat.

Even when, back in December, the Chicago Sun-Times quoted Sosa as saying, "This is the first time I've started lifting weights in December," I wasn't concerned because it is easy to gain 40 pounds of muscle without lifting year-round.

Besides, I was distracted by this online mortgage deal I've found. I got a $200,000 loan for just $175 per month. By the way, do you know what "balloon payment" means?

Some critics of the wondrous achievements of the modern player are pulling out that old Babe Ruth quote from Sept. 30, 1927, after he hit his 60th homer of the season. "Sixty, count 'em, sixty!" Babe crowed. "Let's see some other son of a bitch match that!"

Because of the pill-popping allegations some idiots think we've yet to see that son of a bitch – discounting, of course, Roger Maris, whom no one thinks took anything but eight extra games to hit 61. But not me. I don't think Mark McGwire looked like he was on an eight-month 'roid rage when he hit 70 in 1998.

He just looked like a healthy, fit, clean-living, carrot-juice drinker. Kind of like Bill Romanowski.

All these people who suspect that Giambi looks slimmer this spring not because, as he says, he cut fast food out of his diet but because he stopped juicing in the offseason – these people are so naïve they probably don't believe the "real killers" did it.

Some of these cynics think that, in the court of public opinion, you can be guilty until proven innocent. But not me. I think everyone is clean even if the defendants have back acne and shrinking, well, you know.

One reason I am certain, just certain, that Barry and the heroes are being unfairly persecuted here is because their labor union cares so much about the integrity of the game and the health of their members.

They oppose any real, tangible steroid-testing plan because it is the honorable thing to do. When I think of great freedom fighters, I think of Gene Orza.

Sure, real labor unions are about more than just money. Yes, real labor unions are supposed to assure a safe work environment and not set up a system where every kid older than Danny Almonte knows the quickest way to the Majors is to inject some seriously dangerous stuff into your body.

Real labor unions are supposed to deliver quality control and partner with management (even as they are at odds over compensation) to create a better product. And, don't forget, real unions are supposed to help the good rank-and-file members who do it the right way, the honest way, and not allow the cheats and frauds rise to the top.

And one thing I know for sure is that the Major League Baseball Players Association is a real labor union. Without it, being a Major Leaguer would be akin to Nike factory worker, Indonesian division.

The MLBPA must just be bad at public relations. Because while it is a bit disarming to have a union ignore the damage, stab its good members in the back to protect the crooks and care only about cash and nothing about integrity, I still trust them.

Just as I believe that the voice on that late-night 900 line belonged to the supermodel in the commercial.