Barry Bonds should own baseball right now. Instead, he's just renting it.
His statistics-to-popularity ratio is unprecedented in sports. No player, this dominant, this breathtaking, has ever been less compelling.
Note: I didn't say "less admired." That ship sailed a long time ago. Nobody admires Barry Bonds, except for his blood relatives, and perhaps his accountant.
Giant fans root for Bonds. But only because it serves an end. Baseball fans would root for Son of Sam, just as long as he knocks in 110 runs every summer.
But I wonder if Bonds has an empty feeling as he basks in the sunshine of his "Hall of Gods" career? Does he wish that his now Ruthian deeds the last two seasons could re-write the general public's "book" on him?
Sadly, that book is closed, and there's nothing he can say or do to add a chapter that changes the story. Public perception has hardened on who he is, whether it's either fair or accurate.
Like a wine stain on white carpet that has been left to dry overnight, it's not coming out. Barry Bonds the baseball player carries the indelible perception as the consummate anti-teammate.
Tragic really, because on the scale of jag-off athletes, Bonds wouldn't even crack the top-100. Has he ever had a nuclear meltdown in front of tv cameras? No. Has he ever been pulled over for DUI? No. Domestic abuse? No. Drugs. Not a sniff, unless you count the lingering steroid rumors. And even then, everybody puts the popular Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire in the same boat.
So how come we can't fall in love with him? His bats, his heroics, his prolific offensive barrage of the last two years?
Maybe because beneath the smile that punctuates every home run when he crosses the plate, there's a feeling that he plays baseball because he's good at it, not because he loves it. I don't believe that, but subtle body language is worth a thousand words.
Unfair as it may be, most of us can't shake the image of a Bonds in left field at the old and windy Candlestick. Standing still as a statue, assuming a ball hit over his head was a home run, only to watch the winds push in back in, and to see him scramble embarrassingly after it.
It was one play. He certainly isn't the only guy to misplay an outfield ball at Candletsick. But still, how can you not even turn around and make an effort? What possesses somebody to so thoroughly disrespect his own pitcher that way?
The most devastating critique of Bonds came from Rick Reilly's back page Sports Illustrated article a year ago that revealed the inner sanctum of Barry's aloofness. Not only did it describe how Bonds travels his own orbit around the rest of the Giants - with personal transportation, nutritionists, PR flacks and the like - but it also showed us the infamous big screen.
That Bonds has a locker space three times the size of everyone else on the team, replete with a leather massaging chair from Sharper Image, and a big screen TV turned away from everyone else, paints a picture that even the most ardent Bonds apologists can't erase.
Some want to tell us that Bonds is misunderstood. But nobody misunderstands having a personal big screen TV in the locker room. Quaint as it may be, we'd like to think that major leaguers share and respect the honor and privilege of simply being in a clubhouse in "the show." That while they may not be best buddies with everyone on the roster, they at least adhere to certain boundaries of decency.
Bonds must have a dozen big screens at home, does he need one at his locker too?
The San Francisco Giants are in the World Series largely because of Bonds' thunder stick this post season. He hit .285 with 4 HR, a triple, and 14 walks in the first 10 games of the postseason. It has filled the one major gap in his resume, one that dogged him for over 15 years. "Can't win in the playoffs." "Mr. September." Goodbye to all that.
If he wins a ring this month, critics can't lay an objective glove on his career. Not only is he first-ballot guaranteed, but the arguments about "Best Ever" get a lot more serious with a title as affirmation.
That would bring Bonds to the doorstep of professional paradise. Being the best at your game, having the respect of your peers, and being loved by the fans.
It's the part about the fans that just seems to refuse to come around.
Perhaps if Bonds had just been a decent guy all those years in Pittsburgh and then San Francisco. Not so abrasive in front of the press, and maybe a little more "rah rah team" (even just for show). Perhaps if he actually (gasp) availed himself to the press this October, posting for the optional podium interviews after games. Is it that hard? Does he feel that betrayed by the media?
A little bit, at a time like this, would go as far as one of his nuclear jacks into McCovey cove.
{INSERT_RELATED}Then, he would be so big right now, we'd be huddled around the TV set to watch the modern Babe. Instead, we have to be TOLD that we are watching the modern Babe, and that's a huge difference. The stats (which do not lie) are used in defense of Bonds, as if he were on trial for something. They should be documented proof of greatness, not the start of an argument.
They say Bonds doesn't care about any of this. That all that matters, is the respect (or maybe tolerant co-existence) he claims to have in the clubhouse, and his deep friendship with skipper Dusty Baker. But simple human nature says otherwise.
The problem with Bonds, in a nutshell, is that he just doesn't inspire. Not the way Reggie Jackson did back in his prime. Even if you hated his guts when you went to play wiffle ball in the backyard, you still pretended to be Reggie in your mind, even if you didn't admit it to your buddies.
It could have been different for Bonds, and if he had it to do all over again … well, who knows? For right now, Barry will have to be content with knowing he's the best player on the field in the game's greatest stage.
That might just be good enough for him, but a lot of us wished it would have been more.
Steve is a native Washingtonian and has worked in sports talk radio for the last 11 years. He worked at WTEM in 1993 anchoring Team Tickers before he took a full time job with national radio network One-on-One Sports.
A graduate of UC Santa Barbara, Steve has worked for WFNZ in Charlotte where his afternoon show was named "Best Radio Show." Steve continues to serve as a sports personality for WLZR in Milwaukee and does fill-in hosting for Fox Sports Radio.
