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Remembering that 'Long Gone Summer'

JOHN ZICH / AFP / Getty

On Sunday, ESPN aired its latest "30 for 30" documentary, "Long Gone Summer," a nostalgia-tinted retelling of the unforgettable 1998 season in which Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa chased down Roger Maris' long-standing single-season home run record of 61. Here are a few takeaways.

What. A. Season.

The stigma of performance-enhancing drugs has rightfully tainted the memory of the '98 season, but that summer was one of unbridled joy in real time. Everyone just had so much fun watching these two dudes whack dingers night after night in pursuit of baseball's most hallowed record.

They were perfect foils for one another, with McGwire workmanlike and reserved, and Sosa a charisma-oozing showman. They genuinely seemed to like each other, too, evincing a mutual respect that made their friendly competition a feel-good story that was impossible to resist. And, y'know, they hit bombs.

While it may be a stretch to say their home-run chase singlehandedly saved a league still languishing after the 1994 strike, McGwire and Sosa clearly played outsized roles in rekindling the country's love for the game, with sellout crowds following them all summer. No storyline in sports has so enraptured the American public in the 22 years since.

McGwire, Sosa still cagey about PED use

Amid all its nostalgia, the documentary failed to adequately reckon with the uncomfortable reality underlying the historic season, spending the bulk of its time lionizing McGwire and Sosa, and ultimately deferring the film's most substantive ruminations on their PED use - and the broader context of the steroid era - until the final 15 minutes.

Even more disappointing, though, was that neither player had reckoned with himself. McGwire's 2010 confession to performance-enhancing drug use was laced with denial, with the slugger insisting he used steroids only for recovery and "health purposes." He offered the same unconvincing spiel when pressed about his PED use in the documentary. "By no means did I need to do it for strength purposes," he said.

Meanwhile, Sosa, who tested positive for PEDs in 2003, according to The New York Times, has maintained his innocence and was evasive when the topic was broached, refusing to give a straight answer. “Why do they worry about me when pretty much everybody during that era did it?” Sosa said. “I’m a really happy person, my friend. I’m good, I’m happy.”

The wrong guy won MVP

It beggars belief that a critical mass of BBWAA members could watch McGwire become the new single-season home run king, navigating the most incredible season in a generation throughout the process, and then cast their National League MVP votes for Sosa. But that's what happened.

McGwire received only two of 32 first-place votes for NL MVP that year, losing handily to Sosa. The voters illustrated just how bad they were at handing out awards as recently as two decades ago before sabermetrics penetrated the mainstream, precipitating a higher level of understanding of where value comes from.

McGwire didn't only best Sosa in home runs, you see. He also trumped him in on-base percentage, slugging percentage, wRC+, win probability added, and WAR. And he hit 70 freaking homers, beating Sosa by a not-insignificant margin in that category, too. But, by virtue of Sosa's team making the postseason, and thanks to his slightly higher batting average and RBI total, McGwire lost out. Unjustly.

Cubs need to welcome Sosa back

Sosa didn't just make history with his prodigious power in 1998. He also reignited a fan base that had been disenchanted for decades, and he cemented himself as a franchise icon after authoring the most memorable individual season in the team's history. The Cubs, who had made the postseason just twice over the previous half-century, saw a year-over-year jump in attendance of more than 500,000. Over the ensuing six seasons, Sosa endeared himself further to the fan base, earning five more All-Star nods while averaging 50 homers per year.

However, Sosa is currently persona non grata at Wrigley Field, unwelcome at the ballpark until he "puts everything on the table," as team chairman Tom Ricketts said in 2018 regarding the former outfielder's PED use.

Why the Cubs feel they're owed anything, though, from a man who almost singlehandedly revived their moribund franchise, and helped make Ricketts boatloads of money in the process, is beyond me. His transgressions be damned, Sosa is still the most significant Cubs player in recent history - more indelible than any player on their 2016 championship-winning roster, even - and he doesn't deserve to live in exile from the club that he once turned from a laughingstock into a cultural force.

Jonah Birenbaum is theScore's senior MLB writer. He steams a good ham. You can find him on Twitter @birenball.

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