OK, everybody who's name is on The List, please stand up.
Of course, that would require Major League Baseball to find approximately 100 stand-up guys, a dubious prospect at best.
But that is the only way, it seems, that the hostage crisis that has crippled baseball for the past six years is ever going to be resolved.
Ever since 2003, when baseball initiated a voluntary testing program intended to prove how clean the game was, all we continue to learn is how dirty it really is.
As a result, for the past six years, the game has been held hostage by a piece of paper with the names of "roughly 100" ballplayers on it, players who were either too dumb, careless, unlucky or arrogant to pass an open-book test they had plenty of time to prepare for.
It's far from definitive, of course. Obviously, more guys were using than got caught, and plenty might still be using now and evading detection, because the criminals are always ahead of the cops.
But for now, the names of that Hidden Hundred are baseball's Holy Grail, and because of them, more than 1,000 other players, many of whom actually are playing clean, are forced to live under a cloud of suspicion.
Major league ballplayers are supposed to be a brotherhood. Isn't it about time the dirty brothers came out to exonerate the clean?
The List is "confidential" and anyone leaking the identities of the players on it is supposed to be in violation of federal law.
Yet, the names continue to dribble out, one at a time. Alex Rodriguez. Manny Ramirez. Sammy Sosa. Now, David Ortiz. At this rate, we'll learn every one of those names in, oh, eight or 10 years.
But we will learn them, because one thing you can bet on is anything embarrassing and "confidential" regarding a celebrity — whether recorded via Facebook page, camera phone or the old-fashioned way, on paper — is sure to become public, sooner or later.
And usually sooner.
The other thing we are learning is that the best way to control a message is to get it out there first, on your own terms and in your own way.
So why not get it over with now? There's no law, of course, that precludes anyone on The List from outing himself. What better way for baseball to control its message than for the Hidden Hundred to step forward and identify themselves?
I ran this idea past Derek Jeter, one of the game's few stand-up guys, in the Yankees clubhouse before Saturday's game against the Red Sox and his eyes lit up as if I offered to set him up with the cast of "Desperate Housewives," as if he would need my help.
"That would be a good thing," he said. "Every two months or so, this name comes out and that names comes out. You're just continually talking about the same thing, over and over, for however long it takes for all of them to come out. It gets tiresome.
"I would have to assume if you were on the list, you're constantly sitting around thinking, 'Man, is my name gonna come out?' I would have to assume that would be just eating you alive, you know what I mean? Because the way it's going, eventually it's gonna come out, so that would get it over with."
Face it, everyone on that list has already reaped the financial benefits of using performance-enhancing drugs. No doubt many of them are no longer even playing. Since there was no punishment in place at the time, no penalties can be administered.
Unless, of course, you count getting booed in opposing ballparks as a punishment. If a player is any good, that is going to happen, anyway.
In fact, coming forward would be an act performed in the best interests of baseball, and it wouldn't take all that much.
Just four little words: "I'm on the list."
Because for baseball, there is only one thing more important than exposing everyone who is on The List.
That is, clearing everyone who is not.