Roger Clemens was acquitted Monday of all charges in his perjury trial, but it remains to be seen how much the verdict will sway the court of public opinion.

Regardless, the seven-time Cy Young winner will likely end up in the Baseball Hall of Fame, and rightfully so.

I believe the same should go for the likes of Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and the rest of the tainted legacies produced by the steroid era.

It’s no secret performance-enhancing drugs played a role in the gaudy statistics produced by the game’s brightest stars in the 1990s and early 2000s. However, it was a wide-spread problem and big-name players with big-time numbers were far from the only ones using.

As the great philosopher Ice-T once said, “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

The steroid era took place because Major League Baseball was too busy looking the other way.

The strike of 1994 led to a canceled World Series, wiping away a season in which Tony Gwynn was chasing .400 and Matt Williams was taking aim at Roger Maris’ single-season home run record.

One would think there was enough time to hash out a drug-testing program in the new collective-bargaining agreement, but apparently, that wasn’t the case.

When baseball returned in April of 1995, fans didn’t immediately forgive MLB for erasing the end to what might have been a historic season. Attendance was down and MLB was in need of a spark.

Steroids turned out to be an interest-enhancing drug.

The home run race between McGwire and Sosa in 1998 captured the national stage and promptly put fans back into the seats and in front of their TVs. McGwire and Sosa were painted as heroes — despite their foreheads growing as fast as their biceps — giving players all the more reason to tinker with the idea of PEDs.

Steroids were illegal in baseball, but without testing, there were no immediate consequences for giving them a try. With millions of dollars to gain between contracts and endorsements, along with popularity and praise, countless ballplayers probably shrugged their shoulders and said, “Why not?”

MLB was irresponsible — and therefore responsible for this mess — by trusting its employees to stay away from PEDs.

The media didn’t do the situation any favors, either. As one ESPN advertising campaign eloquently put it, “Chicks dig the long ball.”

As baseball’s hallowed home run records began to feel more and more hollow, alleged steroid-using sluggers transformed from heroes to villains. Eventually, enough pressure was applied to implement a drug-testing system, but it was a decade late.

Although Bonds, McGwire and Sosa were labeled cheaters, the sluggers were only the most visible culprits. Pitchers — such as Clemens, allegedly — were just as likely to be on the juice, along with a slew of mediocre talent.

The first MLB player to ever be suspended for PEDs was speedster Alex Sanchez, who blasted a whopping six home runs in his career. It’s impossible to identify all abusers of the steroid era, so where do Hall of Fame voters draw the line?

The stars who rewrote the record book had the spotlight, but their talent was still superior to their peers. Their stories, with the PED allegations included, should be in the Hall of Fame, because it represents a chapter in baseball history — a chapter MLB could have prevented.

These were still the best of the best in a generation of athletes who gave into temptation.

Jason Orfao is a staff writer for the Butler Eagle.