John Shea, Chronicle Staff Writer
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Goodbye, Barry
Knapp: Major questions in post-Bonds world
Bonds will leave with 'head high'
Did special treatment contribute to messy end?
Bonds' farewell show remains a mystery
Giants part ways with slugger
Knapp: The bubble bursts
Ratto: 15-year marriage ends
Jenkins: Bleak future as a player
Greats of yesteryear react
Fans not surprised
News hits 'Barry's room'
Pick your favorite Chronicle front page
Readers' Platform: A Giant is gone
Time line Stats
Comment
Bonds page
When Barry Bonds takes off his Giants uniform for the last time next weekend, it will end a relationship between a ballplayer and his team unlike any other in baseball history.
Long before free-roaming trainers, big-screen TVs and vibrating lounge chairs in the clubhouse - long before any mention of BALCO and steroids - the Giants let Bonds get away with more than other players.
In return, he delivered much more on the field than the Giants could have expected when they acquired him 15 years ago. But management's indulgence also contributed to off-field developments that clouded Bonds' final four years as a Giant.
In the end, the Giants didn't grant Bonds his final wish. Their announcement Friday that they're severing ties with the seven-time Most Valuable Player was a rare example of the team not catering to him.
Bonds, 43, wanted to return for one more year, and the Giants rejected him. Managing general partner Peter Magowan, who pursued Bonds as a free agent in December 1992 before his group's purchase of the franchise was finalized, said it's time for a change after an unforgettable run of record-smashing home runs and colossal scandals.
"No one is more aware of what Barry has meant to the Giants and San Francisco than I am," Magowan said. "He gave our ownership group instant credibility when we bought the team in 1993 and helped transform the Giants into a consistent winner. ... However, all good things must come to an end, and now seems like the right time to move on."
Bonds received preferential treatment before he wore his first Giants uniform. Shortly after first signing the outfielder to baseball's richest contract, six years and $43.75 million, the Giants showed in a surprising announcement just how willing they were to do Bonds a favor.
They were giving him Willie Mays' number.
The Yankees never offered Mickey Mantle No. 3 (Babe Ruth's number), and the Braves never considered giving Andruw Jones No. 44 (Hank Aaron's number). A retired number is a retired number. But Bonds was going to wear 24, the number the great Mays wore during his cherished career as a Giant.
Though Bonds never got to wear 24 - fans and columnists complained, and he settled on 25, which his dad, Bobby, wore - the groundwork was laid. Bonds wasn't just a special player on the field but someone who'd receive special favors off the field from an organization going to great lengths to satisfy the game's premier player.
Bonds won five of his MVPs with the Giants and evolved into possibly the best hitter who ever lived. But along the way, the authority he was bestowed allowed him to control his environment and create a support group that had the run of the clubhouse, all with hardly an objection from his employers.
As a result, Greg Anderson got access.
Anderson, Bonds' weight trainer, made performance-enhancing drugs available to some of Bonds' teammates and players on other teams, and his BALCO ties linked Bonds to the biggest international doping scandal in sports history.
"Did Barry get special treatment? Of course he did. How can we deny that was not the case?" Magowan said in a Chronicle interview last year. "Did he deserve special treatment? There, you get, I suppose, a debate between those who say every player on a team should be treated the same and those who say that certain players, by what they have achieved, deserve to be treated in a different, preferential manner."
At first, keeping on Bonds' good side was hardly as momentous as it later became for Giants management. In the early years of Bonds' tenure with the team, he took advantage of simpler perks.
He regularly missed pregame stretching.
He blew off lengthy spring-training trips to Tucson.
His father was on the coaching staff.
He had a hotel suite.
He sat in the media bus (always in the front row, in front of team executives) rather than the packed players' bus.
It was all G-rated stuff, considering that previous Giants superstars were afforded their own luxuries, such as suites on the road for Mays and Willie McCovey. But Bonds' favors accelerated once the Giants moved from Candlestick Park to Pacific Bell Park in 2000. If Bonds believed this was the House that He Built, he certainly acted accordingly. Suddenly, he had four lockers, his own TV, a leather recliner and a growing entourage.
The Giants did unofficial background checks on Bonds' three personal trainers who regularly were in the clubhouse - Anderson, stretch coach Harvey Shields and running coach Raymond Farris - and the research, according to the book "Game of Shadows," showed Anderson was rumored to be a dealer at a popular local gym where steroids were said to be readily available.
But the Giants, according to the book, did not try to have the trainers removed because they "didn't want to alienate" the player who'd be the top gate attraction at the new park.
Taking no action was commonplace. After Anderson became a target of a federal investigation, Major League Baseball, reacting to unregulated personnel in clubhouses amid the BALCO case, sent memos to all teams before the 2002 and 2003 seasons with a warning that personal trainers were prohibited. But Bonds' trainers, along with PR people and bodyguards, even a videographer, were still allowed access by the Giants.
General manager Brian Sabean admitted the Giants made "allowances" for Bonds and that MLB was aware of the situation, though Kevin Hallinan, baseball's highest-ranking security chief, said he was unaware the Giants still allowed Bonds' trainers.
"We cooperated with MLB to uphold the letter of that memo, but they also work with the clubs knowing ... the needs of a high-profile player," Sabean said at the time. "You do due diligence, and you trust the player himself and his responsibility to be above board in recommending who's in there.
"We're aware of who's in our clubhouse, and that applies not only to personal trainers. ... It's a complex world, and we're trying to accommodate the players."
But as Hallinan said, "If the Giants did this, it was certainly not done with a green light from us."
When spring training opened in 2004, Anderson was not present. Neither was Shields, and Bonds made a stink. In May, the Giants and MLB came to an agreement, allowing the Giants to circumvent the rule forbidding personal trainers. Bonds could have Shields at his side again only if he were added to the Giants' payroll and made available to all players, not just Bonds. Greg Oliver also was hired by the Giants in a similar capacity.
Instead of working with all players, however, both Shields and Oliver were accountable exclusively to Bonds. When Bonds left the team in 2004 to rehab his surgically repaired right knee, Shields and Oliver were nowhere to be seen. They were with Bonds.
Though the Giants had their own training staff - led by Stan Conte, who received a degree at Cal State Northridge's physical therapy department and is credentialed in physical therapy and athletic training - Magowan defended the Giants for allowing Bonds to have his own collection of trainers.
"The guy played an equivalent of 157 of 162 games for 11 years," Magowan said. "Now, would we prefer that he only deal with our trainers and doctors? Of course we would. We like our trainers and doctors. We know them well. They have good track records. But does that mean a player doesn't have a right to have his own trainer and doctor when he is able to demonstrate the kind of success in terms of getting his body on the field day after day, month after month, year after year?
"The same thing is true with stretching or all these other activities everyone else does and Barry Bonds doesn't do. Would we prefer he do them? Of course we would. Again, the fact he hasn't done them has not prevented him from performing at a level that maybe no one else in baseball has ever performed at. So to make a case or argument in principle that everyone has to be treated the same when you have this tremendous disparity in what they've done, I don't think it's right.
"I think the differential in Barry Bonds' case has been justified. He's earned it by his performance over the years, particularly getting on the field and playing."
But one of Bonds' personal trainers, Anderson, was providing him and others with an array of illegal performance-enhancing drugs. After Anderson supplied Bonds, his childhood friend, with "the cream" and "the clear," both BALCO products, he pleaded guilty in July 2005 to conspiracy to distribute steroids and money laundering and served three months in prison in Atwater, Merced County, and three months' home confinement.
Anderson returned to prison in July 2006 for refusing to testify before a grand jury investigating Bonds for perjury. He was released briefly but sent back last November and remains at the Federal Correctional Institution in Dublin.
The first Bonds subordinate with regular clubhouse access, during the Candlestick years, was Stevie Hoskins, another longtime friend who served as Bonds' gopher and business partner. Ultimately, Bonds accused Hoskins of selling memorabilia with forged Bonds autographs, and Hoskins became an important witness in the perjury case. Bonds' lawyer, Michael Rains, called Hoskins "vindictive" and predicted he'd be discredited as a vengeful ex-friend with a motive to lie. The FBI later exonerated Hoskins in connection with Bonds' complaint, according to the business manager's lawyer.
The follow-up questions are obvious: What would have happened with Bonds if he never dragged Hoskins, Anderson or any of his other assistants into the clubhouse? What if the Giants kept out all of Bonds' aides?
Perhaps Bonds would be in the same predicament, with the same legal troubles, but the freedoms the Giants afforded him made it easier for him to maintain relationships that came back to haunt him.
Magowan, speaking last year on the issue of Bonds' trainers, said, "It's all very easy to think those things now, after the fact, when things went wrong. Last year (when Bonds missed all but 14 games in 2005 after multiple knee surgeries), they went wrong with the medical situation, much worse than any of us thought it was going to be. It's easy to say after the fact, 'Well, they never should've done it in the first place.' But for 12 years it was right.
"The fact of the matter is," Magowan continued, "there are two ways to really measure our success. The most important way is how we've performed on the field. Until 2005, when (Bonds) wasn't on the field, the Giants had the (majors') third best record over 12 years. The Yankees and Braves were the only teams that were better. You can complain and criticize all you want, but this team has performed over a long period of time.
"The second way we're performing comes from how our customers think of us. Over the (first) six years we've been in this ballpark, only the Yankees (had) outdrawn the Giants. We (had) drawn 19.5 million people. That's more than the Dodgers, Red Sox, Cubs, Cardinals and every other team in baseball.
"We've performed well, and our fans have supported us. We haven't won a World Series, but short of that, we've accomplished just about everything we could have accomplished."
In 2006, the first of Bonds' entourage members was banned from the clubhouse. Anthony Phills, his videographer, had his pass pulled by the team after the ESPN reality series "Bonds on Bonds" was canceled. Bonds protested at first - Phills was granted clubhouse access long before the TV show - but the Giants ultimately had their way.
That was an exception. For the most part, Bonds has been the favored son through his years as a Giant. The club passed on signing popular Will Clark after the 1993 season, sided with Bonds during his long-standing feud with Jeff Kent - who left as a free agent following the 2002 World Series - and re-signed the left fielder to a 2007 contract despite telling fans the team would get younger, quicker and more athletic.
Bonds had a $15.8 million base with incentives that could have pushed his salary to $20 million (he's topping out at $19.3 million). As part of the agreement, and in the wake of MLB pressing the Giants that no personal trainers were welcomed, Shields and Oliver were banned from the clubhouse - though they regularly sat behind the Giants' dugout and waited for their boss outside the clubhouse.
The Giants brought back Bonds for 2007 knowing he was the focus of a grand jury probe and investigation into steroid use in baseball conducted by former Sen. George Mitchell, who was hired by Commissioner Bud Selig after the release of "Game of Shadows."
Through it all, the Giants believed Bonds was worth every penny of the $172 million they paid him the past 15 years. He helped revive a franchise and its building of a ballpark that has generated among the highest revenues in baseball the past eight years. He led them into four postseasons, including one World Series.
What's more, the Giants have gone on record saying they plan to eventually erect a statue in Bonds' honor, joining their bronze tributes to Hall of Famers Mays, McCovey and Juan Marichal.
In Sports: Gwen Knapp on the questions that linger after news of Bonds' departure. C1
E-mail John Shea at jshea@sfchronicle.com.
This article appeared on page A - 1 of the San Francisco Chronicle
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