As the ball ripped through the summer sky, much like a syringe injected into soft tissue, a spooky sense of finality settled over Wrigley Field. The villain is going to win, isn't he? A grand jury can't stop him, the commissioner can't stop him, old age can't stop him, and the weight of overwhelming public disapproval can't stop him. Barry Bonds, creep of creeps, is about to own the mother of all baseball records. And there's nothing we can do about it except watch and grow physically ill. ''Fans like the game of baseball, regardless of what you guys are...