Siberian Baseball

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Barry Bonds is one sick bastard

I promise that this isn't going to become your one-stop shop for all things Barry Bonds.

The fact that I've made two Bonds posts in a month is really pretty shocking to me, considering my lack of respect or compassion for him, but how are you going to ignore what's going on the past few days?

When I first started seeing stories about the Bonds' steroid abuse... well, when I first started seeing the stories this week with regards to the Sports Illustrated reprint of the pending book, I e-mailed Frank the Tank asking exactly what Bonds had to do in order to receive any sort of discipline from the league.

Frank wrote back drawing parallels between the Black Sox scandal and this - citing a need to make an example of Bonds to clear baseball's name for the public and I tend to agree.

Despite reports to the contrary, ESPN has posted copies of the league manifest from 1991, outlining the league's decidedly non-friendly stance on their use.

Gene Wojciechowski hit the nail on the head in his column from earlier in the week:

Bonds is finished. He might play again, but there is only a chalk outline left around his integrity and home run totals. And the only way he gets into Cooperstown is if he spends the $14.50 for a Hall of Fame admission ticket.

Winstrol. Deca-Durabolin. Insulin. Testosterone decanoate. Human growth hormones. Norbolethone. Trenbolone. Clomid.

These are the substances and steroids Bonds is alleged to have injected or ingested. They are the medicine cabinet of a cheater... Clomid is prescribed to women for infertility. Trenbolone enhances the muscle tone of cattle.
Deca-Durabolin is a medication used in the treatment of kidney failure-related amnesia.
According to the accounts gathered by the San Francisco journalists, Bonds started to treat his body as a chemistry lab when he saw Mark McGwire's reception in St. Louis during the 1998 home run record chase and got jealous. Basically, he put his body, career, credibility and the franchise in jeopardy because he felt that McGwire was getting too much publicity and that it was only because he was white.

He reportedly got jealous and upset because he felt he was a better player than McGwire (whch he was) and decided to level the playing field by junking his life to prove a point.

Admittedly, this is just the kind of stupid shit that has added countless problems and complications in my own life, but this seems a bit extreme, even for my tastes. It's beyond compare, but the best I can come up with off the top of my head is feeling jealous of someone getting attention for a twisted ankle and deciding to shoot yourself in the leg to pull back your share of the spotlight.

Is it shocking that Bonds was juicing? No. Anyone (even people who never watch sports) could have come to that conclusion. What is shocking is the rationale behind it. Not to pass his godfather or try to set him apart in the pantheon of great players, it was to show up McGwire, who will likely garner as much historical respect as Roger Maris. Bonds came into the league as a coveted five-tool player with the pedigree to match and McGwire will be forever seen as a one-trick pony with a really cool trick.

Whereas McGwire will be seen as a quick flash and a few great seasons, Bonds had the possibility to be one of the greats. He essentially threw all of that away with a series of awful mistakes capped by this bitter self-destructive showing. I can't even begin to express how sick this is.

Any way you slice it, it's pretty pathetic, which seems to be where most people are coming down on the issue. They aren't angry or hurt or betrayed, they just look around and feel uncomfortable and try to find an excuse to walk away. Have you ever been around a kid who really acts up when company is over and the parents have to discipline them while you're around? You feel kinda bad because the kid was only acting out for the attention anyways and you just stare at the floor or try and watch TV or talk to your date and hope the whole thing is over soon.

Well, little Barry just lit the carpet on fire, pushed your car down the driveway into traffic and broke off a broom handle in the dog's ass. Maybe it'd be best if we just walked away and called it a night.

(Photo from Boston Dirt Dogs)


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