Bergen County Record
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Now that Barry Bonds has successfully fleeced America, the only remaining intrigue is why Hank Aaron caved in and endorsed Bonds as the all-time home run champion. Or did he? The taped congratulatory speech, shown moments after Bonds hit No. 756 at AT&T Park on Tuesday night, had all the sincerity of a hostage video. All that was missing was the orange jumpsuit.
Poor Hank -- you know he wanted no part of Bonds and this illegitimate conquest. Aaron's refusal to fly to San Francisco this week was an unmistakable protest, and it kept him from having to shake hands with the man who stole his crown. Aaron likely made the tape at the request of Bud Selig, who has an equal dislike for Bonds, but understands Major League Baseball needed the appearance of a peaceful transition.
Not that it mattered to anyone who believes sports were founded upon the principles of honesty and integrity. Bonds has made history all right – and with it leaves us all with a black eye. Actually it's worse than that; black eyes eventually heal. Bonds' achievement is more like a scar. That 756th homer serves as a permanent reminder of the slugger's greed and the corrupt path that took him to the top.
Bonds is the most compelling symbol of the steroid era, when home runs became as devalued as a dunk on a 9-foot basket. With reams of anecdotal evidence pointing to Bonds' guilt, there's little doubt he cheated his way to baseball's most prestigious honor. Bonds is the long-ball king, the mightiest of them, all, having conquered Willie Mays, Babe Ruth and now, finally, Aaron. It was a sea-change moment, but there's little joy outside the Bay Area, where Giants fans have been in a state of Jonestown-like worship.
Most everyone else, however, is woozy from the moral overload. Americans love baseball too much to have ignored Bonds, but felt dirtier watching him topple Aaron. Maybe it's because we're all to blame for Bonds and everything he represents.
The steroid explosion in the mid-Nineties couldn't have happened unless Selig and the game's elders weren't looking the other way. The players' union was just as guilty, blocking every attempt at a meaningful drug policy. The press, me included, was too busy glorifying Mark McGwire's and Sammy Sosa's pursuit of Roger Maris' single-season record in 1998 to state the obvious -- that baseball's home run hitters looked like they were created in a laboratory.
All the ingredients fed our desire for bigger, faster, more outrageous eye candy -- rules be damned. Somewhere along the way, America lost its appetite for what once made baseball so unique and precious. What happened to the subtle beauty of a first baseman scooping a low throw? Or a third baseman fielding a slow roller with one hand and firing a perfect strike, across his body, to nail a speedy runner by a half-step?
When did we stop appreciating outfielders who throw runners out at the plate? When was the last time we saw a perfectly executed suicide squeeze on "SportsCenter?" Our gaze has been re-directed toward tape-measure home runs, pumped-up radar gun readings and player contracts that are now large enough to feed a Third World country.
Baseball went from a form of chess to an extension of professional wrestling; we were seduced by the strongest hitters and the hardest throwers. Our reward is a champion whose legacy is built on a lie, although it's not like we were caught by surprise. The suspense of Bonds' pursuit of Aaron flamed out years ago, when it became obvious that his chemically enhanced home runs soon total into the 700s and beyond.
Some fans have had enough of the debate; they just want to move on. Unfortunately, Bonds will have more than just 15 minutes of infamy. His record could last a decade or more, unless Alex Rodriguez, having just hit his 500th home run, stays healthy and productive.
In the meantime, baseball is shamed by a phony coronation, not to mention a superstar who's on the verge of being indicted by a Bay Area grand jury on perjury charges. But be careful in renouncing Bonds. He is, after all, our creation. He exploited the steroids climate that we endorsed, explicitly or not. Face it: If Selig was all that troubled by Bonds' 73 home runs in 2001, he would've launched an immediate investigation. If the fans thought it was fishy that baseball players resembled NFL linemen, they would've stayed away. If the game's good guys had listened to their conscience, they would've spoken up – and stood up to Bonds.
But no one did, except for Jose Canseco, a steroid user himself. So we get what we deserve while watching Bonds celebrate, a worthless grand prize that teaches kids that cheating pays, as long as you've got cutting-edge pharmaceuticals at your disposal. But the price of such a devastating revelation is steep. In fact, a respected veteran once told me that he pushed aside suspicions of Bonds' steroid use, fearing that it would impact the integrity of his own career.
"All the times I faced Barry, I thought I was facing one of the greatest hitters ever, not some guy who was juiced up," the pitcher said. "I don't know what was real and what wasn't, so it's easier for me to say, 'Barry's innocent, he hasn't tested positive for anything.' Until they prove something against him someday, this is the way I have to feel about it."
That see-no-evil attitude runs rampant in the big leagues; most players are too afraid of Bonds to say what's on their minds. Aaron, the man who was tough enough to break Ruth's record despite racist threats against his life, took a stand against Bonds -- until the eleventh hour. Too bad he yielded, because he's still America's hero.
To anyone with a conscience, there's only one home run champion and his name isn't Barry Bonds.
E-mail: klapisch@northjersey.com
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Taking stock of Bonds: The baseball world reacts
"The record is not tainted at all. At all. Period."
-- Barry Bonds
"I dreamed about it as a kid, but when I dreamed about it, I was the one hitting the home run and not giving it up."
-- Washington Nationals pitcher Mike Bacsik
"It's all about history. Pretty soon, someone will come along and pass him."
-- Hall of Famer Willie Mays, Bonds' godfather
"I'm indifferent. My home run chase was Hank Aaron and the Babe. I'll congratulate him, but that's about it for me."
-- Colorado Rockies manager Clint Hurdle
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