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A Mixed Reception Greets Palmeiro

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Baltimore Sun

It was big, almost as big as the girl waving it over her head. It was bright orange with black lettering, and it read, “Welcome Back Raffy.”

It was held aloft behind the Orioles’ dugout about two hours before the first pitch at Camden Yards Thursday night, and it was the first sign, no pun intended, that things were back to normal. Rafael Palmeiro had returned, he had finally spoken (but on the advice of my attorney, I can’t tell you what he said), and he was embraced, at least by those who got to the ballpark early enough for batting practice.

That was the only time Palmeiro was visible to the general public Thursday. When he was, two things happened: He was followed by cameras and the eyes of the playoff-level contingent of reporters, and fans climbed over each other to reach him and offer items to autograph.

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Baseballs, programs, photos and tickets stubs passed across the dugout roof through dozens of hands and into Palmeiro’s as he left the batting cage for the last time. Disposable cameras clicked and cell phone cameras flashed. He signed and posed for a good five minutes before heading down the dugout runway.

At least that bunch of fans didn’t stay home, didn’t boo and didn’t turn their backs. Palmeiro might have spent nearly all of his suspension in isolation, but Thursday, it was clear he wasn’t alone. All told, 27,958 had a compelling enough reason to show up, even on a 92-degree night, against the Devil Rays, with the pennant race disappearing over the horizon and with their notorious hero coming back to the fold.

What the heck, it was a baseball game, not a statement of principle. These Oriole fans are either forgiving, forgetful, or plain fed up with these annoying intrusions on their fun. Boycott, schmoycott; we just wanna watch the game.

Palmeiro had better appreciate it all. To his credit, when he broke his silence Thursday afternoon, it sounded as if he did appreciate it.

“These are great fans,” he said from somewhere in the middle of a sweaty tangle of minicams and tape recorders in the home dugout. “I’ve always enjoyed playing here. They’re the best fans in the game, and I hope they can understand my situation right now. I’ll accept whatever they do.”

He went on, but on the advice of my attorney, I can’t reveal what he said. This much can be told, though: Palmeiro looked and sounded as if he was coming back from an injury rehab at Bowie rather than from one of the more humiliating exiles in recent baseball history.

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On the other hand, he was eager to engage his most ardent supporters when they showed their love. He might be able to fake sincerity with the best of them (a point that a congressional committee is now investigating), but you won’t be able to convince those pre-game fans that he’s not for real.

It’s not even a matter of them taking a chance that this will all blow over and his reputation will be restored some day. In their eyes, it’s blown over and his rep is pure.

Others, in the ballpark and purposely away from it, tell a different story. The fans carrying the derogatory signs obviously weren’t buying what Palmeiro was selling. Neither were the callers filling the air on the sports-talk shows Thursday, insisting they were through with him and wishing he’d be released.

Neither were the e-mailers to this paper, who said a stand had to be taken against a player who, guilty or not, has shown them disrespect with his lengthy silence.

One e-mailer sent along an edited version of the ubiquitous “Believe” sign -- with the first two letters and last two letters crossed out. Think about it.

And don’t be so sure the boycott idea didn’t resonate at all. On Wednesday, one sports-bar manager near the ballpark indicated this indignity was the last straw for the faithful.

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“People were coming in here [the day Palmeiro was suspended] straight from the ballpark after they’d lost to the White Sox and had that unbelievable losing streak going,” said Christine Groller, manager of Max’s on Pratt Street. “They were not happy. They were saying, ‘You won’t see us anymore. We’re done.’

“And people aren’t coming back,” she added. “Now they’re really upset because he’s not saying anything.”

Groller will be happy to know Palmeiro finally did say something. But on the advice of my attorney ...

Here’s something legal counsel should advise Palmeiro to do: To get back in everybody’s good graces -- not just the ones at batting practice -- keep signing and posing for a long, long time. If you’re lucky, you might one day get to everybody -- the ones who need convincing as well as the ones who don’t.

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