It used to be easy to be part of a star athlete's family.

You got to hang around the bright lights and big bucks, bask in reflected glory and generally take a great ride with little or no responsibility.

But as tarnished slugger Alex Rodriguez underlined yesterday, that free ride is over.

These days family members — real or imagined — are apt to find themselves thrown under the bus as riding on it.

When the gravy train is in jeopardy, tie the relatives to the tracks is the new motto of the desperately repentant.

Take Rodriguez's mysterious "cousin" in the Dominican Republic, whom he did not identify but nevertheless credited with the steroid brainstorm and delivery, mentioning several times yesterday. Rodriguez said he and this modern day "Cousin" Vinny, who first suggested injecting each other with performance-enhancing drugs, did the deed together for approximately 18 months in 2001 through 2003.

The years coinciding with two of the three most productive home run seasons (52 in 2001 and 57 in 2002) of his career.

Presumably, Rodriguez learned the technique of familial sacrifice from the master, pitching great Roger Clemens, who offered up his wife and housekeeper when things got too hot last year.

Yesterday, Rodriguez told reporters, "For a week, I've been looking for people to blame. And I keep looking at myself at the end of the day." But in the end — and apparently meaning it in the anatomical sense, too — he left the unknown "cousin" hanging out there, too.

There was no mention of the conspiratorial "cousin" a week earlier when Rodriguez sat down to plead his case to Peter Gammons of ESPN. But, then, Rodriguez also maintained at the time that he didn't know with what he was getting injected.

Yesterday, he had a name for it "boli" — believed to be Primobolan, one of the substances Sports Illustrated said he tested positive for in 2003.

"I knew we weren't taking Tic Tacs," Rodriguez said.

That might have been his cleanest, most honest confession in the days since the magazine outed him.

For all the "young and stupid" admissions offered yesterday, you really have to question the veracity when a pro athlete claims he doesn't know what he's putting in a finely tuned body on which his lucrative livelihood depends. Remember, A-Rod was already seven years into a major league career when he and his cousin began trading jabs of the syringe.

And not from stuff you find at the corner drug store or purchase with coupons, either.

But give A-Rod credit for apologizing for the error of his ways, which is more than some in his position have done.

"I'm here to take my medicine," A-Rod said yesterday.

But not before he'd dished out a heapin' helpin' to his "cousin" too.

Reach Ferd Lewis at flewis@honoluluadvertiser.com or 525-8044.