Squiggy Clean

Time to come clean.

There's been a bit of talk about steroids regarding "older" athletes recently.

With Dara Torres' recent success in the U.S. Swimming Olympic Trials, the debate raged over whether she is just a physical phenomenon or a juiced up Mom with swim fins. One sports talking head went so far to say that we're in such an era now that anybody over a certain age has to be suspected of using when their achievements are so great. That must include me, since I'm a year older than Torres.

So, with that I'm mind, I thought maybe I should make an announcement. I'm clean. It's all me baby. All that I do and all that I accomplish is not a result of me juicing up, pumping up, popping pills, using the clear or any other enhanced substance. I'm just a unique being and freak of nature. I've avoided the roid because I haven't needed them.

Some might wonder how that can be. I’m faster than a speeding mullet. More powerful than the locomotion. I’m able to leap into tall buildings in a single bound.

The speed and magic of my fingers working a keyboard has to be fueled by something. My ability to run a 17-minute mile (on a treadmill) certainly creates speculation.

I can literally row circles in my Sea Goomer. That can't be natural.

I almost passed a car on my bike the other day. Of course, I was cruising downhill and the guy driving the car ahead of me was like 100-something, braking all the way.

I can lift weights, 12 ounces at a time, without getting tired. Heck, I can even lift them when I'm tired.

I bet I can still hit that free throw where I stand back to the basket and shoot the ball facing the opposite hoop. It might take a few tries, but I know a girl that witnessed me hit that shot. Too bad it was the only thing I ever did that truly impressed her.

I still produce a mean pass rush, especially when its my overly anxious four-foot-high nephew that will heave the ball when I start chasing him and growling at the same time.

I can still blast a whiffle ball high into the tree tops and do my home run dance.

Yes, I may possess unbelievable physical gifts, but I'm just your average multi-talented, overly blessed, skilled, intelligent and modest award-winning sports scribe.

There are no needles with my DNA on them - no underage country singers with my DNA on them either. There's no trace of cream on my body, other than sour, ice, whipped or Bailey's Irish - and most of that evidence is internal. I don't like taking pills. I don't like injections. So, if I don't want needles sticking me in the arm, I'm not going to get poked in other places either.

Skeptics will certainly argue, "But you've got a huge head. That has to be steroids." No, I just have a large head, thank in part to genetics - to house my large brain and immense intelligence.

I don't suffer roid rage. I suffer from a temper that might go off if somebody presses the wrong button. Remember, don't frig with Squig.

My body is a temple (okay, maybe a temple of doom). I'm typically careful about what I drink and eat. No, seriously, I am. The only liquids I drink are water, milk and juice. No soda. No sports drinks. No energy drinks. I hardly drink coffee. I do make an occasional exception for beverages of an alcoholic nature or even a bowlful, especially if it's on fire. I rarely eat red meat. I rarely eat eggs. I've often checked out at the grocery store and had cashiers comment how much healthy stuff I buy. No, I'm not kidding.

So when my body is a bastion of healthfulness and cleanliness, there is no need to clutter it up with artificial enhancement. I'm all natural. I'm juice-free, pills-free, roids-free and guilt free. Thought I'd clear up any rumours or speculation.