Tony Gwynn and Cal Ripken Jr. knew this day was coming for years. Knew the outcome, too, even if they didn't want to admit it.

Makes you wonder what Mark McGwire was thinking.

Once considered as much of a lock for the Hall of Fame as Ripken and Gwynn, Big Mac is now officially a pariah. It's been clear for months he wasn't getting into the Hall, with voters still suspicious and downright angry over his role in the supersizing of the cherished American pastime.

But McGwire couldn't even muster support from a quarter of the voters, limping in Tuesday with a mere 128 votes out of the record 545 cast. Lee Smith and Jack Morris didn't make it, either, but they at least cracked the 200-vote barrier.

After hearing him say it umpteen times at that debacle of a congressional hearing, we get McGwire doesn't want to talk about the past. Or talk at all. But unless he comes up with some kind of mea culpa fast - Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds, take note of this - the only way he'll make it to Cooperstown is if he takes his boys for a visit.

Even sadder, he'll never know the euphoria and joy that Ripken and Gwynn are feeling right now.

``I lost it,'' Gwynn said, choking up all over again. ``It's an unbelievable feeling to know that people think what you did was worthy.''

``It's almost more of an extension of a boyhood dream,'' Ripken said. ``You want to be a ball player in the worst way. Sometimes you fantasize that maybe you'll be good enough to make the Hall of Fame.''

Only McGwire knows for certain what he did or didn't do in Oakland and St. Louis. We've got a pretty good idea after looking at the way his numbers blew up when he was in his mid-30s, an age when most power hitters begin to slow down.

Of his 583 home runs, 306 came after he turned 32. Instead of closing in on retirement in the months before his 35th birthday, he was running down Roger Maris. His slugging percentage that year? A career-high .752.

Take away those numbers, and he's little better than Dave Kingman.

Big Mac didn't help his cause when he appeared before Congress two years ago and dodged questions about steroid use like a chin-high fastball. Had McGwire made one of those Oprah-worthy confessions, all probably would have been forgiven. Instead, he's hidden himself away in Shady Canyon - a most appropriate name for a subdivision if there ever was one.

And that's his choice. He, after all, is the one who has to pay the price.

But by covering themselves with a cloak of silence, McGwire and the other suspected steroid abusers smother everyone else right along with them.

``There's that big black cloud hanging over baseball with steroids,'' said Goose Gossage, who finished third in voting for the Hall but fell 21 shy of the necessary 409.

``There are a lot of great players in that era,'' Gossage said. ``Who knows what's going to happen? The whole integrity of the game is in the midst of this and needs to be cleaned up.''

Gwynn was one of the most well-rounded players the game has ever seen, a model of consistency for 20 years. One of its best ambassadors, too. Besides his magnetic smile and infectious laugh, he was a go-to guy for the media, recognizing that was the way to communicate with the fans who ultimately paid his salary.

Ripken was the guy every blue-collar worker in America could identify with. He got up and went to work every single day, and was the one guy his team could count on no matter what.

Yet on the day that should have been their happiest, two of baseball's best were shadowed by the guy many consider a cheat. Neither even had a chance at the all-elusive unanimous election because two voters left their ballots blank.

``It saddens me that baseball as a whole had to go through this process and had the integrity of the game questioned,'' Ripken said. ``I'm for the stories being told and for it being debated.''

Just don't expect him to be part of the discussion.

While Ripken said it's not his place to judge, he might be asked to do just that someday. McGwire has 14 more years to convince 75 percent of the eligible voters that he's worthy of inclusion in the Hall of Fame. If not, his only other chance would be with the Veterans Committee, which includes all the living Hall of Famers.

For his part, Gwynn said he thinks McGwire belongs in the Hall now.

But unlike in years past, you can't be both a Hall of Famer and a cheat. Unless McGwire breaks his silence, we'll never know which one he really is.

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Nancy Armour is a national sports columnist for The Associated Press. Write to her at narmourap.orgCopyright © 2005 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. The information contained in the AP News report may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without the prior written authority of The Associated Press.