Sosa's back in the game, with plenty to prove

SURPRISE, Ariz. -- For all superficial purposes, Sammy Sosa is back. He's grinning the grin that once enamored us. He's speaking in the soft Dominican accent that once enthralled us. He's dancing between cocky and cute, a two-step that once enchanted us.

At a library across the street from the Texas Rangers' spring-training facility, he's here for his comeback news conference. But this comeback is far different, far more complicated, than most superstar returns. In fact, with utmost cynicism, you might say Sosa is blazing a trail.

For the vanishing steroids-era star.

Little by little, they've been disappearing or watching their skills diminish to the point of irrelevance. None of them come back, ever. It's like they go into the (alleged) Cheater Protection Program. You couldn't find Mark McGwire or Rafael Palmeiro even if you used 10 private investigators and offered the players care packages filled with greenies.

Sosa is a first, although he won't acknowledge it -- a player willing to wrestle with the innuendo in order to leave the game his way.

"I'm a little older, but that doesn't mean I can't hit 30 or 40 home runs," said Sosa, 38. "You think I'm dead?"

Dead, no. Done? We'll find out.

The last time Sosa played, he couldn't hit a beach ball with an oak tree. When he played with Baltimore in 2005, he looked old, couldn't stay healthy and finished the season with 14 homers and a .221 batting average in 102 games.

He sat out last season and mostly traveled with his family. As he vacationed, he kept hearing encouraging words from fans.

"Everywhere I went, people were like, 'Come back. Come back to baseball,' " Sosa said.

So, this past December, he began training again. Friday, he passed the eye test, for sure. He looked fit in jeans and a yellow-and-blue-striped polo shirt. He looked like the Sosa of 1998.

For certain, he won't be able to hit like that Sosa. But Rangers manager Ron Washington said he would take three-fourths of that player.

Inside the library, Slammin' Sammy did his best to transform into Sage Sammy.

He spoke of being a good teammate this time. He expressed the thrill of competition and did so with penetrating charm. He even attempted introspection, with occasional references to how being "beaten mentally" forced him to leave baseball.

He passed the ear test, but Sosa always has been good at saying what we want to hear.

Unless the subject is steroids.

"Today is about Sammy Sosa and the Texas Rangers," Sosa said when asked about baseball's steroids scandal. "Let's talk about baseball. Let's talk about 2007."

Then a reporter asked Sosa about coming through the Rangers' system in 1986 and let him bask in this mushy homecoming tale.

"That's better," Sosa said, laughing.

He's back, flaws and all. I'm not sure whether to taunt or toast him. Ultimately, his play will determine how he's viewed.

If Sosa impresses, he will be referred to in flowery terms because of the canonizing ways of sports. By playing well, he might even regain significant credibility since we have this belief, foolish or not, that cheating isn't as rampant anymore.

If he falters, he'll further taint his legacy. He'll be a perceived cheat who couldn't hack it without 'roids.

It's the perfect challenge for a proud man who boasts about going from shining shoes to hitting home runs. Sosa stands 12 shy of 600 homers, a standard only four players (Hank Aaron, Barry Bonds, Babe Ruth and Willie Mays) have achieved.

Not that Sosa would burden himself with such a small goal.

"Let's put it this way: If I'm going to come back to baseball, I'm not going to come back for 12 home runs," he said. "Come on! I'm not coming back for 600. I'm going to come back for 700 or more. I'm a greedy person. I'm not satisfied."

That attitude endeared Sosa to Texas owner Tom Hicks. Before the Rangers signed Sosa to a minor-league contract, Hicks had dinner with the slugger to gauge his intentions. An hour into the dinner, Hicks was sold.

Later, Hicks made the unusual move of calling Commissioner Bud Selig to ask about Sosa.

"To make sure baseball didn't know anything we didn't know," Hicks said. "And Selig totally endorsed it."

Hicks has made foolish decisions with stars before. After all, he was the guy who offered Alex Rodriguez $252 million.

Sosa could make the owner look much better this time. But he has to make the major-league roster.

How about that? After all these years, Sosa is back to a familiar place: having to earn his way into baseball.

"Right now, I feel like I'm a rookie," Sosa said, smiling.

The only difference is, with so much baggage, Sosa needs to do more than earn a reputation. He needs to erase one, too.

Jerry Brewer: 206-464-2277 or jbrewer@seattletimes.com