To bow or not to bow
Don’t all hail the new home run king
PAUL CROSBY
First things first, I don’t like Barry Bonds — never have, never will. However, as a sports fan it is impossible to ignore the fact that this past Tuesday, Aug. 7, the 43-year-old San Francisco Giants outfielder became baseball’s all-time home run king, supplanting the legendary Henry Aaron. With one effortless swing, home run number 756 sailed into the seats at AT&T Park, perhaps the only place in the universe where that home run would be appreciated.
It is known as one of sports’ greatest achievements, an odd notion when you consider the vast array of possible athletic achievements open to the human race, yet somehow the “Home Run King” reigns in our imaginations like no other. For the longest time it was Babe Ruth who held the “unbreakable record.” As Henry Aaron approached it in 1974, he received death threats, probably as much due to his race as his athletic prowess. Time and the changing tides of society eventually forgave Aaron for unseating Ruth, and it certainly helped that he wore his “crown” with class and dignity. He was, after all, an exemplary human being, a role model for kids, an upstanding citizen, and a great ambassador for his sport. Barry Bonds is none of the above, and perhaps that is why he is possibly the most loathed record-breaker ever.
If you have been on another continent (say, Antarctica) for the last decade, or if you simply do not allow yourself to be immersed in endless sports trivia, you will not know (or care) that Barry Bonds allegedly took steroids to enhance his shot at baseball immortality. He claims he never intentionally did anything illegal, but what else would you expect him to say? They all have the look of shock down pat when the accusations start to fly. The simple fact is that “Barroid,” as he is affectionately known by millions of detractors, is the only ball player to ever see his statistics dramatically improve as he got older. In the first half of his career he was averaging one home run every 16 at-bats. In the last five years he has averaged one home run every eight at-bats. Last time I checked, our skills tend to decrease with age. I threw out my shoulder playing a simple game of catch on the beach last weekend. Yet Barry is more feared by pitchers now than he was 10 years ago. Now he is the new king. The question is, do we pay him homage, or do we rebel?
If I had my way, Barry Bonds would not go into the record books, but I recognize that it is largely because I am jaded toward the man. Somewhere amid the endless debates that rage on ad nauseum about cheaters in sports, we must recognize that our inner competitiveness can make liars and cheaters out of the best of us. It’s not as though Babe Ruth was a paragon of virtue for the kids to emulate. Plus if we look around at society in general, we see examples aplenty of people who don’t handle fame and fortune very well. (Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan come to mind.) Barry isn’t liked more because of his abrasive, seemingly arrogant personality than his audacity in breaking Hank Aaron’s beloved record. Perhaps we’ll have to be content with letting baseball deal with its own problems. After all, it is just a game. In light of other, more pressing concerns in the world, I guess I can live with Barry Bonds sitting on baseball’s highest throne.
Let’s not be fooled by the doublespeak, though. Bonds wanted this record, and he wanted it badly; he wanted the status that comes with it, and, in this writer’s opinion, he got it at the expense of the very team and city that applauds him. The Giants have not been remotely competitive the last couple of years. The whole place seemed caught in a collective trance every time the pumpkin-head one-stepped to the plate. Maybe they were afraid they wouldn’t get to be part of history. Maybe crowning a home run king became more important than a championship. Barry even hinted a year ago that if the Giants let him go, he would go to an American League team where he could be the designated hitter and chase down his coveted record without the worry of having to run around in the outfield and risk hurting some pricey part of his over-developed body. Baseball is the ultimate team sport. Chasing records utterly destroys the purpose of playing. Swinging for fences when situations call for other, less notable efforts is a detriment. It always has been, unless, I guess, you’re Barry Bonds.
You might bow to the new king, and that’s your right, but I’m already cheering for an overthrow. Idealists like me want our heroes to be Gretzky-like, to somehow remain humble in their greatness, and to never forget where they came from. In the real world, some kings are adored while some are abhorred. Barry Bonds has never learned what life is about. I think history will judge him harshly.
