Bail Bonds

Sage words from the Pinstriped Bible.

There is, however, one dead giveaway of a writer with nothing to say; a topic unique to baseball that telegraphs to the reader that the writer was free of ideas that morning. That topic: what a rotten guy Barry Bonds is, and how we'd all be happier if he'd just go away.

Not only is this ingenuous Â? when Bonds goes so too does Fallback Topic No. 1 Â? but it's irrelevant. Barry Bonds may abuse goats, have bad breath and spit on the flag. These off-field matters have little to do with his quality as a ballplayer, as a crowd attraction, as a historic figure in baseball. If one doesn't like Bonds the person, tune him out. You're under no obligation to listen. If you're a baseball fan, you're sure as hell obligated to watch.

It's depressing how little the sportswriting profession has advanced in 50 years. Not only are many of the columnists less literate and stylistically interesting than their predecessors, but the routines haven't changed. Copy a Bonds-bashing column into Word, do a search and replace, removing "Barry Bonds" wherever it appears and substituting "Ted Williams," and you will have fabricated a column identical to anything that the Boston Daily Record ran in 1955. Many of those writers are now regarded as retrograde bullies, while Williams has gone on to his headless Valhalla as one of the top hitters of all time. Fifty years from now, the same will be said of today's Bonds bashers. Their complaints about his egotistical boorishness will be seen as picayune cavils. This will be true even if rumors of steroid use are substantiated; Bonds' personality will become part of the bigger story of an athlete's fall from grace, rather than something that once annoyed some writers.

This is not a defense of Bonds the man. The truth is, we don't know Bonds the man, we just know the Bonds that isn't good Â? or doesn't like Â? dealing with writers. That's his right, as annoying as it may be to the writers. This is a defense of Bonds the ballplayer, who has been lost amidst the hostile hackery.

Ted Williams was not a good guy. Ty Cobb was a violent racist. Tris Speaker was in the Klan and split the Boston clubhouse with anti-Catholicism. Joe Jackson threw games. Pete Alexander was a raging alcoholic. So was Mickey Mantle. Maybe you wouldn't want to sit down to lunch with any of them. Maybe you're such a perfect human being that you treat everyone perfectly and you could only be stained by being in their presence. More power to you. But if you wouldn't give your right eye to see them play again, or for the first time, to see baseball played as well as it can be played, well, then you're too far above the players to love the game.

A great and controversial career is coming to a close. That's a captivating story. Who cares whether a writer doesn't like Barry Bonds? Since when is the writer the story? Give it a rest, colleagues, please.

Indeed. The Vega once tried to interview a young Barry Bonds for our high school newspaper. Young Barry, while less philosophical in his dealings with the press back in the day (he didn't have a recliner next to his locker yet, so he could not ruminate nastily from it), but he was no less reticent to "open up."

But though he wouldn't take the bait I was dangling, ever since I've been able to tell people that I went to high school with him, and while there, once tried to interview a kid who would go on to become one of the greatest hitters in the history of the game.

Pretty cool. In a pathetic sort of way.