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The Bonds Ultimatum

March 28, 2011

This blog is almost two months old (I’m registered for gifts at Dirty Lenny’s Cash & Booze Emporium off the interstate) and I’ve only mentioned Barry Bonds once, parenthetically, in a post about how I dislike Jeff Kent. It’s not that I have nothing to say about Bonds — he was the Giants’ centerpiece during the most intense years of my fandom. But my relationship with him is complicated. (I don’t know Bonds personally, but I get the sense that “complicated” is the only kind of relationship he has.)

So, as his perjury trial unfolds, here are a few thoughts on Number 25, to appease the handful of my (literally dozens of) readers who have asked:

  • I think Bonds was the best player of his generation and belongs in the Hall of Fame.
  • I think Bonds absolutely, without question injected and creamed his way to superhuman status.
  • I think Bonds is being punished not because he used performance-enhancing drugs, but because when he used them he became the most feared, dominant offensive force in the history of the game; Jeremy Giambi was a walking, bearded pharmacy but the government isn’t asking his former mistress to testify about the shape of his testicles in federal court.
  • I think this trial is a colossal waste of time and resources and there can be no good outcome.
  • I think the real villains of the steroid era — the team owners and MLB executives who stood by and profited from all the chemically aided exploits then played dumb and wagged their fingers when the human-growth hormone hit the fan — are cowards and hypocrites and I’d like to see them on trial.
  • I think I am very, very glad that when the Giants finally won a World Series, it was with a bunch of rookies and castoffs and a Cy Young-winning ace who looks like he needs to put rocks in his pockets on windy days (there was a steroid-using outfielder on the team, but he was left off the playoff roster).

Mostly, though, when I think about Barry Bonds it makes me sad — so I try n0t to do it very much.


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