Chicago ? I love it when a cheater gets caught. Not a little cheater. A big cheater. A brave, brazen, “How did you ever think you could get away with that?” kind of cheater.

Last week, I watched a fascinating TV show about how a British major, his wife and an accomplice conspired to win on the game show “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” by signaling the correct answers from the audience with a cough.

Sunday morning, I read a New York Times account of how a reporter there scammed his way through countless stories, including hugely prominent ones about the D.C. sniper case and the rescued U.S. soldier Jessica Lynch.

Then on the sports page, I continued reading about a probe into whether the Kentucky Derby winner’s jockey used a device that electrically stimulated the horse.

Jose Santos would have had to be loco to try a stunt like that. Do I believe that he was and that he did? I do not. And the Churchill Downs stewards agreed Monday that he didn’t do anything wrong.

But do I believe they are entitled to investigate? You bet I do.

Because I don’t put anything past anybody anymore.

Everybody fudges. Well, not everybody, but many of us do. A fib here or there. A stolen hotel towel. A bogus receipt. That’s why people in glass houses shouldn’t, etc., etc. …

We grow up trusting. I put mine blindly in all Catholic priests, until I heard later in life how untrustworthy a few could be. I trusted cops, doctors, teachers. I trusted every word in print.

Now I trust zilch. I never know when to expect the next breach. My bank got in touch Saturday to report a stolen private document and an arrest. I am suspicious of everybody these days, now that Mother Teresa and Mister Rogers are gone.

Is it likely that a 42-year-old, distinguished, much-admired rider of horses would try to hide an object in his hand during the most filmed and photographed race in America? No.

Is it plausible that Santos could think that no groom, paddock walker, gate worker, exercise rider, owner, trainer, track steward, tractor driver, TV reporter, zoom-lens camera holder, bugle blower, railbird holding a mint julep or rival jockey would see an object in his hand that made Funny Cide giddy-up like Secretariat? No.

Now that he has been cleared, I hope Santos wins the Preakness by a nose and then thumbs his nose.

Because we need more heroes, not more villains.

The shortstop Omar Vizquel claimed to have felt so betrayed by a Cleveland Indians teammate’s use of a corked bat, it was like “when I first heard the true identity of the Tooth Fairy.”

Albert Belle’s bat was confiscated July 15, 1994, at Comiskey Park, where his teammate Jason Grimsley sneaked through a crawl space and replaced it with a clean one belonging to Paul Sorrento.

Major-leaguers like Billy Hatcher, Graig Nettles and Wilton Guerrero got caught with corked bats. Norm Cash and Amos Otis never got caught, but later admitted using them. Joe Niekro, Rick Honeycutt and Brian Moehler served suspensions for pitching with illegal objects on their persons. Pete Rose, well …

Ninety-nine years ago, Fred Lorz won the Olympic marathon. Too bad he rode 11 miles of it in a car. Rosie Ruiz won the 1980 Boston Marathon taking a shortcut.

Breeders Cup bettors, rigging the payoff. University of Minnesota student-athletes, cheating in class. Little League teams, lying about a pitcher’s age.

No more, please.