Congratulations, Barry Bonds. You’re no longer a felon. We all owe you an apology.

So we’re sorry, Barry, that the government dragged you into courtrooms for more than a decade and forced you to spend some of the $200 million or so you made in baseball not on vacations and fast cars and gigantic ball caps, but on defense lawyers.

And we’re sorry, Barry, that federal prosecutors wasted your time trying to prove that you obstructed justice in your testimony to a grand jury in 2003, and that you were sentenced to what must have been 30 agonizing days of house arrest inside your 15,000-square-foot mansion, rambling around its six bedrooms, its 10 bathrooms, its gym and its pool.

A federal court’s ruling on Wednesday overturned your conviction, and that changes everything. It’s clear now that we should be ashamed that we ever thought you were using steroids.

So what if your body changed into something like the Michelin Man’s before our very eyes — torso as thick as a quarter horse, and bulging biceps that seemed to grow bigger by the second, as if attached to an invisible bicycle pump. Big deal that you started swatting home runs almost as fast as we could count them.