by Ken Rosenthal

If Dodgers fans want to celebrate the return of Manny Ramirez from a 50-game suspension for violating Major League Baseball's drug policy, they should do so without reproach from the media or anyone else.

Let's not hear any hand-wringing or circumspect analysis about what the fans' embracing of Ramirez says about our society, the deeper meaning of it all.

I'll tell you what it means:

Fans are sick of steroid talk.

Fans just want to be entertained.

Play ball.

Fans are fans, from city to city, coast to coast, continent to continent. When Ramirez returns this weekend in San Diego (MLB on FOX, Saturday, 4:10 p.m. ET), Dodgers fans will support him just as Giants fans supported Barry Bonds through his steroid drama, and just as Yankees fans support Alex Rodriguez.

No one fan base holds the moral high ground over any other. It's just win, baby; everything else is secondary. And frankly, Ramirez is easier for fans to like than the standoffish Bonds and insincere Rodriguez, even as he shows little interest in any aspect of personal responsibility other than standing in the batter's box and crushing line drive after line drive.

For many, that is enough.

I'm troubled by the disconnect that exists between fans and reporters like myself on the steroid issue. I care a great deal about the havoc that steroids have wreaked on the sport, its players, its records. But judging from attendance and most other economic measures, fans sure are not terribly bothered by what has happened to the game.

Reporters can not and should not back off the steroid issue, reducing their coverage of suspensions and government investigations; news is news. But the eligible Hall of Fame voters from the Baseball Writers Association of America are moving into a delicate area.

Dodger fans will surely welcome Manny back. (Harry How / Getty Images)

While the Hall instructs us to consider character, integrity and sportsmanship when making our selections, many of us are uncomfortable playing the role of moral custodians. If we start refusing to elect players whom most fans consider deserving, the divide between writers and fans will become even more vast.

I'm not advocating mob rule when it comes to the Hall of Fame election. I certainly think the writers are the best qualified group to vote. But writers in some ways are an extension of the fans. And the fans no longer view baseball as the national pastime, expecting the game to embody America's greatest virtues.

That image always was a myth. We are not living in 1950. The sports landscape in recent decades has changed dramatically. The NFL has replaced MLB as the No. 1 sports league, and the line between sports and entertainment has become increasingly blurred.

Manny, you see, is more than a baseball player. He is as famous as a movie star, a rock star, and his "Manny being Manny," don't-worry-be-happy persona is his signature, his brand.

I was disgusted by the way he forced his way out of Boston, appalled by his positive drug test, disappointed but not surprised by reports that he refused to uphold the tradition of paying for teammates' postgame food while in the minors (one former Red Sox teammate describes Manny as "a cheap bastard"). But like everyone else, I still love watching Manny hit.

Manny reportedly skipped out on paying for dinner in the minors. (Craig Fritz / Associated Press)

Movie stars and rock stars, for the most part, are not held to high standards of personal behavior, particularly when it comes to drug use. And so it is now with baseball players and professional athletes in general. Fans were not so carefree as to elect Manny to the National League All-Star team. But most grudgingly accept that players operate by a different set of rules.

Of course, the difference with baseball is that the use of performance-enhancing drugs by some players has distorted the historical comparisons that many hold dear. Well, as I've written before, those comparisons never were apples-to-apples; players only can be viewed within the contexts of their own eras. The more damaging legacy of steroids is that comparisons between players of this era are not even apples-to-apples; only some players were users.

Such topics are important as we move forward, worthy of extended debate. I'm tired of hearing the "let's move on" mantra of Manny and other users, as if nothing happened, as if they did no wrong. But Manny served his time. He lost his reputation. And though he cannot laugh off this entire episode, maybe we can all come to a better understanding of who he is, what he represents and why Dodgers fans are ready to storm the gates of Mannywood.

He's back. And it's OK.