When I flipped on my TV Tuesday night I was immediately greeted by the smiling face of the ever-so-friendly Barry Bonds, baseball's new homerun king. Mere moments before Bonds had passed Hank Aaron on the all-time homerun list to become the “greatest” homerun hitter in baseball history. A moment like this should be elating, almost magical given the nature of our national pastime.
How is it that in this majestic moment the only words that come to my lips are, “Un-freakin-believable!”? I find it hard to believe that I've been robbed of my “Hank Aaron moment” as I like to call it. My parents' generation had a chance to witness Hank Aaron breaking the most sacred record in all of sports. It's hard to believe that when the same opportunity is presented to my generation we greet it with disgust, but who can blame us?
Barry Bonds blasting 756 homeruns would really mean something to me if I were certain he had done nothing artificial to aid in his performance. Honestly, I could get past the fact that he could be surly at times and not a particularly outgoing media personality, so long as he hit a lot of homeruns. However, that all changed after 2001.
When Bonds hit 73 homeruns in 2001 he got the ovation a child gets for staying in the lines in a coloring book. No one cared, at least I didn't. It was great and all, but the real magic I remember was the "98 season. McGwire and Sosa battling it out all year only to have Big Mac break the single season record while playing against Sosa at Busch Stadium. That season rang true for me because it made me love baseball even more than I previously had.
Even if both McGwire and Sosa are suspected to have taken steroids I wish them the best because they were genuine people who played the game with class. I enjoyed watching Sammy Sosa hop around the bases, or Mark McGwire swinging his bat like a toothpick. I've never particularly enjoyed Bonds since the 2000 season.
In the "90s growing up I loved the guy because he could run, hit, field, and he was an MVP and of course a little kid"s going to love an MVP. But after the '98 season I didn"t see how any moment could top Mark McGwire breaking the single season homerun record on September 8th, my ninth birthday. I was right.
Nothing Bonds has done since his record breaking 73 homerun season has made me want to watch him again. His very saunter around the base paths bothers me because I know he's taking it for granted, “Oh, here's another homerun. Man I'm lucky I know Victor Conte and Greg Anderson.”
Bonds' attitude, physique, and even the size of his head turn me off. Why would I want to see such a nasty person break baseball two most sacred records? I don't! Ruth did it on hot dogs and beer, Aaron did his thing by swinging a heavy bat and running, Bonds did it by … well who knows? All I know is that I will never be able to accept Barry Bonds as the greatest hitter in history because he never proved to me that he had the talent to be the king without the help of a steroid army.
The only thing I can say is this: Barry, enjoy it while it lasts, because what goes around comes around, and the MLB as well as baseball country is coming around for you.
