Enough about steroids. Too many books, too many annoying questions, too many previously surly superstars putting on a smiley face and acting like they don’t have a care in the world.

No, all you cookie-cutter beat writers out there, today is NOT the day that Barry Bonds wakes up and says, “You know, I’m going to tell those well-dressed and well-groomed reporters anything and everything they want to know, because they’ve been so patient and supportive throughout this trying time.”

I have a way to fix everything — though by my own admission, it will never work. But it’s food for thought.

I saw an interesting segment on ESPN’s “Outside The Lines” the other night about steroids, and they were saying that some players in the late 1980s openly discussed whether they should have used steroids — even though they didn’t necessarily want to — because they felt like it was the only way to keep up with everybody else who was using.

I think they called it “having the edge.”

This is what gets me about pro sports.

In most lines of work, you generally know what kind of a living you can expect to make based on where you are and what you do.

For example, a sports writer at the San Francisco Chronicle will make more than a sports writer at the Napa Valley Register, but neither one of them will make the kind of money that a doctor makes.

Everyone involved knows that there’s an invisible “ceiling” based on the market and the qualifications for each line of work.

The only realm of society in which this is not true is sports, especially baseball.

Whereas a light-hitting journeyman catcher might make the league minimum — a few hundred thousand dollars — an established All-Star slugger can make several millions of dollars in a single year.

Yet, they’re both professional baseball players.

So why does one man make anywhere from 10 to 20 times what another man does? Don’t they both play 162 games, have the same travel schedule and the same demands on their time and family?

One cop with 20 years in at the precinct doesn’t make 15 times the money as another cop with the same 20 years in, does he?

The problem, especially in baseball, is incentive-laden contracts, where the more home runs you hit and the more runs you drive in, the more money you make.

Now, some fans would say “darn right, you should have to perform to earn your paycheck,” but my question (and inherent solution) is this:

If all pro athletes made about the same amount of money — say, between $500,000 and $1 million, with wiggle room allowed for length of service and individual accomplishments — wouldn’t that eliminate the need to seek “the edge” that steroids provide?

Nobody would say to himself, “If I can hit 45 home runs this year I make an extra $3 million,” and then go inject himself with something harmful to his body and to the reputation of the game in order to reach a higher rung on the salary ladder.

It would make baseball more like society, heaven forbid. Heck, even the president of the United States has a set salary.

Check it out. A reporter makes more than a fast food cashier. A vice principal makes more than a reporter. A doctor makes more than a vice principal. A CEO makes more than a doctor. A baseball player makes more than a CEO, but the ceiling is there and the need for an “edge” has been eliminated.

Of course, I know this won’t work. The players’ union would NEVER go for such a salary, even if it is still more money than anyone else in the world makes.

Heck, they still think “salary cap” is like a four-letter word, even though it seems to work in other sports.

A ballplayer might argue that he is seeking the artificial edge because he wants to be the best, not because he’s concerned about the money.

To which I say, if you can actually find a professional ballplayer not concerned about the dough, we’ll talk about it.

I’m pretty sure it’s about the money.

As for Bonds, I’m probably in the very small minority that thinks most of the following:

• I have always liked to watch him hit. He’s the only player on the Giants’ roster that will make me sit through a commercial if I know he’s coming up the next inning.

• Baseball is entertainment. That’s all it is. I can’t remember any significant sequence of events in any specific game that I ever went to, but I remember what it was like to walk into the Oakland Coliseum for the first time and how beautiful the outfield grass looked.

I do remember when Rickey Henderson hit one out to lead off a Father’s Day game against Kansas City, and that my dad, my brother and I were there.

Was he on steroids? Don’t know, don’t care, I just want to keep the memory.

• Yes, you’d like to think what you are seeing is legitimate. Of course.

But is your 8-year-old going to be more excited about seeing his first home run or his first groundout to second?

And yes, steroids are a terrible thing for kids to get involved in.

Big leaguers who use them are setting a terrible example.

But my role models were always my mom and dad.

• There are bigger problems in the world then worrying about Bonds’ legacy. If he breaks the home run record, he breaks it. I think he would only be keeping it warm for Albert Pujols or Alex Rodriguez, two guys who have not been mentioned in the same breath with the “S” word.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again — it’s impossible to compare eras, in any sport.

• Show me a positive drug test, or a failed polygraph exam, or a hidden video camera showing him shooting himself in the butt, and I’ll change my mind about Bonds.

But we still live in America, right?

Innocent until proven guilty, or something like that?

Yes, common sense says that a man in his mid- to late-30s doesn’t usually pack on 40 or so pounds of muscle. But you can’t crucify someone based on common sense, can you?

Common sense would be to take away the need for an edge from these ballplayers, but common sense doesn’t always work in sports.

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A way to clean up steroids that won't work