26 July 2007
Mr. Wonderful
Mr. Wonderful
England is under water, drowning, and people I know are testifying before Congress. I am hearing about both on the radio this morning.
Both are scary events, the former signifying a link to the great climate change, and the latter to some more subtle discomfort right here in town. It is time to duck down and not think of the world. San Francisco Giant Barry Bonds is feeling the same way about his little crisis, the one that got the Bud Selig, Commissioner of Baseball, in a pickle.
That is the professional equivalent to a base-runner being caught in a run-down, no safe haven to run to, enemies on both sides, taunting, flipping the ball back and forth, growing nearer.
He really couldn't win. He could not pretend that the Barry Bonds Home Run Watch, the great chase for the 43-year-old slugger to catch Hammerin' Hank Aaron all-time record was not the biggest story in the sport, and he could not ignore the fact that it was steroid abuse that probably made it possible.
In the end, the only thing he was able to ignore was the non-specific and non-credible threat to air travel and arrived in San Francisco two days ago to be present, just in case Bobby Bonds slammed a few balls out of the park and broke the most revered record in Baseball: the home run record.
I assume Major League Baseball lets its Commissioner “work from home,” or finds him a spare desk in the Giant's front office so he can answer his e-mail. Otherwise his trip would be a complete waste of time.
As of this morning, Bonds is stuck on 753 home runs, the odds are getting unlikely that he will break Hank Aaron's record of 755 on this home series in San Francisco. It is too bad, since that would have been the best way for him to do it, and reward the only fans who really stayed with him through the scandal that swirled as cold as a Candlestick Park breeze around the story of the BALCO drugs he used to get big and strong in the second half of his career.
The whole thing is a mess. Barry was on pace to have a Hall of Fame career before the alleged drug abuse started. The crisis in the sport began as the players began to experiment with steroids and Human Growth Hormone, and in a sport where the players had always looked a lot like the fans, they suddenly became goliaths, and balls began to leap out of the stadium in numbers that had not been seen since Babe Ruth, the Bambino of the golden years had made the feat seem routine.
Barry passed the Babe a while ago, and he is poised on the great summit but stalled. I remember when Hank Aaron was in the chase to beat what is arguably the greatest record in the game.
Of course, the game had changed. Part of the argument was about that, live-ball, dead-ball, total plate appearances, slugging percentage, which is what the game was about. There was a tinge of racism to it as well, always present, with the long-dead Ruth as the Great White Hope.
But the accomplishment, regardless of the differences in eras, made the chase compelling in drama. Hank Aaron was one for the ages, fighting his way up in a game that had turned its back on the greatest athletes in the nation for a hundred years.
Barry changed all that. Surly to the press, he didn't seem to give a crap about the fans, either. The drugs that all the sluggers seemed to be taking, white and black, batters and pitchers, changed the game in a way that made all the sacred records irrelevant.
It was very confusing, since Barry's Dad was Mr. Wonderful. Bobby Lee Bonds came from a family of athletes. His sister was a world class sprinter and his brother was drafted as a running back in the NFL. Bobby chose baseball as a career, and his
His Big League career began with the Giants in San Francisco in 1968, in the chilly swirling winds of Candlestick Park. That was the year the World Championship came to the rowdy Tigers in my riot-scarred hometown of Detroit, and made young men of my age forget the news of the war in Asia as we prepared to register for the Draft, or seek our college deferments.
Bobby would spend a total of 23 seasons with the Giants organization as a player and coach, and since that is where his son is likely to break the record, that makes an astonishing run for the Bonds franchise in the City by the Bay.
He was a well-traveled ballplayer, though, since late in his career he played for seven teams in both leagues.
Bobby was a unique multi-threat right-fielder from that first season right through his retirement in 1981. He was fast, with a wicked arm and a lively bat. He also had a winning way with the fans, and was electrifying on the field. He was the first player to do the 30-30 twice, or hit thirty home runs and steal thirty bases. Eventually he accomplished that milestone five times, and did it in both leagues. He was a close pal of the legendary Willie Mays, and he asked the Amazing One to be godfather for his baby boy Barry.
Bobby eventually hit three more than three hundred home runs and stole more than three hundred bases. He also struck out a lot, and in fact set a record for fanning that was not broken until 2004 by the wildly swinging Adam Dunn.
But none of that mattered. Bobby was Mr. Wonderful, and there are no asterisks anywhere near his records. Bobby passed away four summers ago of a brain tumor and lung cancer at the age of 57, or just about the age of people who still care as much about him as his son.
Barry is the only other player in major league history to hit 300 home runs and steal 400 bases, and a lot of those bases came before he got big.
On Tuesday, Barry went one-for-six, striking out twice, and was hit in the helmet by a throw and committed an error in the field. He scowled most of the game, and Mr. Selig could see it.
This is still high drama, even if tainted, and that is why Mr. Selig is present in San Francisco. It looks now, having made the decision, will have to follow the circus as it leaves town and goes on the road.
Barry is noted for his concentration and ability to block out the world, the one that includes me, and you and the Commissioner of Baseball. But he is swinging harder than usual, and off his game. His irritation is tangible all the way across the country.
Two homers away. I think we would all like to see him get it out of the way, asterisk notwithstanding. I wish it was Mr. Wonderful that was poised on the brink, but you are stuck with the era you live in. I'm sure the Commissioner would agree, and then he can get on an airplane and get the hell out of town, whichever one it happens to be.
Copyright 2007 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
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