Barry Bonds (Ya Wanna Root For This Guy?) My Title

There are 24 teammates who show up to pose for the team picture, and there's Bonds, who has blown it off for the last two years.

There are 24 teammates who go out on the field before the game to stretch together, and there's Bonds, who usually stretches indoors with his own flex guy.

There are 24 teammates who get on the players' bus at the hotel to go to the park, and there's Bonds, who gets on the bus with the broadcasters, the trainers and the manager who coddles him.

There are 24 teammates who eat the clubhouse spread, and there's Bonds, whose nutritionist brings in special meals for him.

There are 24 teammates who deal with the Giants' publicity man, and there's Bonds, who has his own clubhouse-roving p.r. guy, a freelance artist named Steve Hoskins, who turned down George Will's request for an interview with Bonds because Hoskins had never heard of him.

There are 24 teammates who hang out with one another, play cards and bond, and there's Bonds, sequestered in the far corner of the clubhouse with his p.r. man, masseur, flex guy, weight trainer, three lockers, a reclining massage chair and a big-screen television that only he can see.

Last week, after Bonds hit his 51st home run in a 13-7 win over the Florida Marlins, most of the players stayed to celebrate the victory, and at least one was gone before the press arrived in the clubhouse: Bonds.

"That's Barry," says San Francisco second baseman Jeff Kent. "He doesn't answer questions. He palms everybody off on us, so we have to do his talking for him. But you get used to it. Barry does a lot of questionable things. But you get used to it. Sometimes it rubs the younger guys the wrong way, and sometimes it rubs the veterans the wrong way. You just hope he shows up for the game and performs. I've learned not to worry about it or think about it or analyze it. I was raised to be a team guy, and I am, but Barry's Barry. It took me two years to learn to live with it, but I learned."

If you get the feeling that Kent, who's in his fifth season with San Francisco, wouldn't spit on Bonds if Bonds were on fire, you might be right. Maybe it has something to do with last year, when Kent and Bonds were running neck and neck for the National League MVP award. The week before the award was to be announced, Bonds had a member of his entourage call the commissioner's office to try to find out who had won. We've got to know, said the stooge, because if he's not going to win, he can get out of town.

Perfect! No staying around to congratulate Kent. Or going to the press conference to shake his hand. Just, "If it ain't me, I'm outta here." The commissioner's office didn't know the results of the voting. Kent won.

Someday they'll be able to hold Bonds's funeral in a fitting room. When Bonds hit his 500th home run, in April, only one person came out of the dugout to greet him at the plate: the Giants' batgirl. Sitting in the stands, you could've caught a cold from the freeze he got. Teammates 24, Bonds 1.

Bonds isn't beloved by his teammates. He's not even beliked. He often doesn't run out grounders, doesn't run out flies. If a Giants pitcher gives up a monster home run over Bonds in leftfield, Bonds keeps his hands on his knees and merely swivels his head to watch the ball sail over the fence. He's an MTV diva, only with bigger earrings.

"On the field, we're fine," says Kent, "but off the field, I don't care about Barry and Barry doesn't care about me. [Pause.] Or anybody else."

Bonds will be a free agent after this season, and if he decides to sign elsewhere, will the Giants be devastated? Kent grimaces. "See: Seattle Mariners," he says, walking away.

Bonds is brilliant. He was the best player of the 1990s, and at 37 he's having his most magnificent season, on pace at week's end to break the single-season home run record of 70 and nearly lapping the league in slugging percentage, on-base percentage and walks. He should be the MVP.

What a putz of an article. Ya know its just a game, bsaeball. Its entertainment. Hell, I was brought up listening to Russ Hodges sing out "Its a Bye-Bye Baby"--Lon simmons was at his knee in those days. Later on I spent many a summer afternoon listening to Hank spin a three inning yarn with occasional pitches and hits thrown in...

Its baseball afterall--A sport best heard on the radio. Why in the hell should I care if Barry eats the clubhouse sandwich? Why should I care if he hangs with the team....Barry is a product of modern sports--there is no team, just individuals collecting together for their individual paychecks.

I have read other postings claiming that baseball today couldn't hold a candle to yesteryear---So what? It was entertainment then and it is now.

I hope Barry hits number 71, why not! Its baseball for chris' sakes. Besides I was born a SF Giants fan..Ya know old school, you rooted for the team closess to you. Not like nowadays where everyone hopscotches around looking for todays winning jacket...jeez...

Anyway abigkahuna is back on the air after several months on the road. Not that anyone really cares or will read this tripe late on a Sunday night. But its here for what its worth...

Barry Bonds would hardly be the first horse's ass to enter into such hallowed territory as 60-plus home runs in a season. (He becomes number five to enter that chamber; at this writing, the eminently more likeable Sammy Sosa still has a clean shot at becoming the only man to do it thrice.) And he will hardly be the last.

And as for the ball being "juiced," a little historical reality check: They juiced the ball right into the so-called "lively" ball era after Babe Ruth rang up what was then thought the impossible: 29 home runs in 1919. (Nowadays, 29 jacks means Mark McGwire is having an injury-shortened season and Mike Piazza is having an off year.) No fools, the Lords of Baseball - they saw what was putting the fannies into the seats and who was doing it (and they needed Ruth's appeal even more after the Black Sox scandal broke a year later), and anyone who tells you the other American League bosses weren't watching the cash registers going ka-ching! whenever baseball's King of Swing came to town is full of it.

By the way, Ruth wasn't exactly facing Hall of Fame-prospective pitching every at bat; you just don't get a crack at Walter Johnson or Lefty Grove every game, and sometimes you don't even face him once in a three- or four-game series. Henry Aaron's career had him going up against the likes of Sandy Koufax, Juan Marichal, Bob Gibson, Tom Seaver for Hall of Famers, but even with as many future Hall of Famers as Hammerin' Hank was laying the wood against, he's still not going to be facing those guys every time he meets their team for a Series - for every Koufax there's about ten Dennis Ribants (Ribant was actually a promising pitcher with the Mets - twice he finished in the top ten in the National League in earned-run average - until arm trouble finished him early); for every Marichal there's about ten Denny Lemasters (a teammate of Aaron's for a time, a decent enough lefthanded pitcher whose glaring weakness was a tendency to surrender - you guessed it - the long ball and to get careless when he had a small lead).

To flip it around: Koufax and Marichal and Gibson and Seaver aren't going to be facing Aaron, Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Ernie Banks, Pete Rose, Frank Robinson or Roberto Clemente every time out; they're going to get an awful lot of Joe Christophers and Gene Alleys and Bob Ueckers* and Chico Ruizes** in the bargain, and probably more than the big bats.

(* - Believe it or not, Bob Uecker, a lifetime .190-something hitter who made a big league career because he was one of the few catchers who could handle a knuckleball without flinching, did have some impressive performance papers against one of those Hall of Famers: Koufax. "We tried everything," backup Dodger catcher Jeff Torborg recalled once. "Nothing worked. Bob Uecker owned Sandy Koufax." Owned him to the tune of batting .400+ against Koufax lifetime. You can look it up.

** - Chico Ruiz's most shining moment, probably, was a game in his rookie season of 1964. With the Cincinnati Reds playing the Philadelphia Phillies, who at the time had a fat lead in the standings and looked like they had the pennant in their back pockets, Ruiz found himself running on third against Philadelphia starter Art Mahaffey, owner at the time of the best pickoff moves in the National League. Ruiz stunned Mahaffey, his own manager Fred Hutchinson, and his own third-base coach Dick Sisler, by breaking for and stealing home. It put the Reds in the lead; the Reds won that game and the game was the first in the infamous ten-game losing streak which ended up costing the Phillies a pennant they had in the bank.)

Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.