CLICK HERE FOR PART I OF RICHARD HOFFER'S INSIDER

Herewith our modest proposal: Barry, leave now. Spare us the hangover from our home run binge, save us from a season of regret, rescue us from the guilt of being entertained by your fake power. Do not linger for the purpose of surpassing either Ruth's total (714) or Aaron's record (755), both of which will only draw attention to your own character failure, not to mention ours.

This is not only doing the right thing, it's doing the smart thing. We'll not forget the excitement you brought to the game just walking to the plate. Even knowing that you were juiced, which you admitted in grand jury testimony, does not entirely diminish the theater of each moment. It wasn't an honest effort, and that's disappointing, but it was genuinely pyrotechnic in its own way. We really do love fireworks.

Even if you leave now, you're not going to get away with everything. The scarlet "S" will hang from your neck, like so much negative bling, for as long as you're remembered. But you will at least prevent the kind of postscript that dooms you to historical villainy or, worse, buffoonery. You don't want to play clean and hit, let's say, 18 homers, do you? You'd regret this season far more than we would, trust us on that.

You will not enjoy the run-up to Aaron's record either, during which your chemical enhancement will come to be seen as a surprisingly large and unfair influence on your achievement. In fact, anything you accomplish from here on will be in the context of an extended con. And anything you don't will refocus your deceit. Really, you can't win.

So do it for yourself and, yeah, do it for us. Barry -- and we say this feeling a little bit responsible for this mess but determined to move on -- it would be so much better if you weren't here.