At Pipes, the place in Cardiff By The Sea where Skylar and I had breakfast this morning, there are lots of autographed photographs of surfers. There's also a huge picture of a San Diego Padre at the plate. I couldn't read the signature at first, but then I saw his forearms as I came closer. It was Ken Caminiti in all of his 1996 glory. The picture made me sad. But I realized that I don't remember him as a cheater at all. What he did down the stretch that year remains remarkable, whether it was aided by steroids or not. I found this conclusion strangely comforting.