The only benefit in getting caught late is the chance to learn something from the guys who got caught juicing first. So if nothing else, Alex Rodriguez has plenty of company.

But with little more than a week to come up with a story before he reports to spring training, A-Rod better use every minute wisely. The first thing he has to decide is whether to confirm or deny a Sports Illustrated report that Rodriguez tested positive for anabolic steroids in 2003, the first of three seasons during which he was AL MVP.

Whichever course he chooses, here are a few temptations A-Rod should avoid:

Don't write a book, even if a few of your hazy recollections happen to be true (Jose Canseco).

Don't wag your finger at anyone, even if you've deluded yourself into believing something is true (Rafael Palmeiro).

Don't say you don't want to talk about the past (Mark McGwire).

Don't claim you thought the substance you were taking was flaxseed oil (already used by Barry Bonds); or that the substance that tripped the positive drug test was beer, whiskey, thyroid medication, a stillborn twin, whatever (already tried by cyclists Floyd Landis and Tyler Hamilton); or that somebody spiked your drink (a novelty when sprinter Ben Johnson unveiled it at the 1988 Olympics, but an alibi that's sounded worn-out ever since).

Most important, don't hire Rusty Hardin. The lawyer for Roger Clemens practically dared Congress to seat his client at the witness table, and Clemens has been paying with sleepless nights and hefty legal fees every day since.

One thing A-Rod better remember is telling the truth is always an option, no matter what uberagent Scott Boras and the PR agency on Rodriguez's speed dial counsel. It's not just right, it's easier to remember and cheaper in the long run.

Besides, telling the truth worked one way for current Yankees teammate Andy Pettitte and another for former Yankees teammate Jason Giambi, and both are instructive in this case.

Pettitte admitted turning to human growth hormone during a few moments of weakness, begged for mercy in the court of public opinion and then pretty much picked up his career at the point he left off. Pettitte got mostly cheers when he showed his face in New York after copping a plea, because he owned up to the charge right away and then repeated the same story to congressional investigators soon after, even though it meant dropping a dime on close pal Clemens.

It also didn't hurt that Pettitte had already provided Yankees fans with plenty of warm postseason memories and gutted it out during a tough 2008 campaign.

Giambi, too, reluctantly came clean, but after taking a more circuitous route. He admitted using performance-enhancers to a federal grand jury during the BALCO investigation, but apologized only after his testimony was leaked a few years later and then in only the vaguest terms possible.

His first news conference back became a pity party, with Giambi mournfully saying he was sorry a handful of times before anyone could squeeze in the logical follow up: namely, what Giambi was so sorry about.

He never went into detail, but if Yankees fans were willing to forgive, they didn't forget. Giambi's slugging numbers never returned to the salad days that everybody was free to suspect coincided with his juicing, and their enthusiasm waned as his production did. There were few gripes when the club let Giambi go back to the bay via free agency. On the plus side, Giambi is out from under the cloud of suspicion and unburdened of the pressure of big expectations.

Rodriguez, on the other hand, is signed for the next nine years at considerable cost, and his love-hate relationship with New York was already on an at-bat-to-at-bat basis. A drop-off in production would mean tons more misery heaped on top of the tons he's already endured.

If like Pettitte, he turned to performance-enhancers a few times, that shouldn't be a problem. But if he juiced early and often in his career, and even if, like Giambi, he cracks the door of suspicion open and leaves it at that, then all those tales about his tireless work ethic had better be true. Because either way, Rodriguez is going to have to practice like never before.

It's also worth remembering that A-Rod could deny the whole thing and be telling the truth. It's the toughest path of all and guaranteed to be the biggest distraction in a career already chockfull of them. It's no coincidence that two of the most arrogant superstars of the era — Clemens and Bonds, joined by a handful of Olympians — chose that route; nor can it be comforting to see the mounting losses all of them have already suffered in terms of fame, fortune and peace of mind.

Last week, Bonds sat at a defense table in federal court in San Francisco with five lawyers at his side, quietly observing the proceedings at the start of what promises to be a long and messy perjury trial. Clemens is still back in Texas in a sort of self-imposed exile, but maneuvering behind the scenes suggests his legal team might be preparing for trial as well.

Considering Rodriguez is likely free of any penalty with the law and even major league baseball, one bit of advice never seemed more relevant: Sometimes the cover up turns out to be worse than the crime.