755

In honor of Barry Bonds tying Hank Aaron last night, I reprint my April email response to the anti-Bonds camp:

I'm well past tired of the Bonds-bashing that has become so popular the last couple of years. I rather like Barry Bonds. His awful public image has a great deal to do with the fact that he'd rather spend time with his children than talking to reporters or hanging out with his teammates. I admire that.

It's no wonder Bonds doesn't like reporters or other baseball players: he grew up having his father's precious time stolen by them. It's also no wonder he's so devoted to Willie Mays: Mays was there for him when others were not, despite the pressure of Mays' stardom.

I honestly don't care if Barry used steroids, but I remain unconvinced. His injuries aren't consistent with those of known users, and his increase in size has been steady throughout his career--those pics of him as a skinny rookie shown next to him at forty are deliberately misleading. The change came bit by bit over a lot of years and were consistent with typical male weight gain in one's thirties. If he did use, even if he used early and often, no one seems to care much about the fact that many of those 95-mile-per-hour fastballs he's knocked out of the park were steroid-fueled. If an asteric is appropriate, it belongs to the era and not Bonds alone.

More to the point, while steroids can increase power, and to a lesser extent, bat-speed, they can do nothing to improve one's vision, and what has made Barry Bonds the greatest hitter of his generation, perhaps of all time, is his vision. No one has ever seen the ball better than Barry Bonds. Steroids don't increase one's patience, either, and no one in the game has demonstrated more patience at the plate than Barry Bonds, especially in the last five years.

Juiced or not, he's as good as ball players come, and I'm glad I've had the chance to watch him over the years. I'll smile my big smile when he breaks the homerun record--I might even do a little dance. I'll also probably shed a tear or two when he retires, not just because I'll miss him, but because I know he won't miss me.