In case you are confused by the new font being spit at you, it means there is a new latte maker in town. Apparently the bosses saw my work on the Doug Eddings controversy this past October and they decided I was Frappe material. Keeping in mind that my Frappe license is still provisional and I can be removed at any time, let’s be done with the formalities and get down to business.
I’m going to be honest with you guys: I’m a Barry Bonds hater. And despite what most Dodger fans would have you believe, I wasn’t born this way. I can still remember when I was quite indifferent to Bonds’ egotistical behavior. Being an Angels fan, I didn’t really care about what was going on with the NL, nor did I want to hear about the childish antics of some guy who wouldn’t let anyone watch his big-screen TV in the clubhouse and was telling the media, “Its called talent. I just have it. I can’t explain it.”
Unfortunately, Bonds still found a way into my heart when the Giants faced off against the Angels in the 2002 World Series. After a week of hearing about Bonds’ 475 ft homer in a World Series game that the Giants lost, I was ready to gouge out my eyes so that I could avoid seeing him walk to first before starting a half trot around the bases. Consequently, our relationship began.
Now that he’s only 6 homers away from catching up with Babe Ruth and 47 from Hank Aaron, I figured that Bonds would be ready to put on a media face, maybe deflate his head a little (no, that’s not a steroid joke), and try to salvage his character even if it’s only for a year. I mostly considered this wishful thinking, right up there with my dream of becoming a standup comic, but much to my surprise, Bonds started out this off-season on a good foot. I thought ESPN was joking when they reported Bonds had agreed to play in the World Baseball Classic for the United States. I mean, the guy wouldn’t even finish out last season when his team fell out of contention but now he wants to play in some exhibition games prior to the start of the season. It was like a new Bonds was emerging from the ashes of the old Bonds, and quite frankly, I was willing to accept this upgrade. I didn’t care about the facade; I merely wanted to be able to appreciate the man for his achievement instead of going hoarse from heckling him every time he came to the plate.
However, just like Pete Rose and Mike Tyson have both found out, covering up a tarnished image doesn’t work when you don’t stick to your game plan. Bonds announced this week that he is removing himself from the World Baseball Classic (not to mention also hitting the news stands telling Felipe Alou he won’t bat 2nd). You can speculate all you want about the Olympic Drug Testing Policy Theory and argue that he can’t risk injury with the all-time record so close, but it doesn’t matter to me anymore. We were so close to a good thing, but he had to go and ruin it. It’s not like I’m asking the guy to start signing autographs because we all know that would be way too much to ask. I’m simply asking to see a Bonds that I could at least tolerate for this record setting year. Unfortunately for the baseball world, we’re left with a new Bonds that looks a lot like the old Bonds and a World Baseball Classic that is lacking arguably, as much as I hate to say it, the best player in the game today. I think I’ll be spending this August and September working out the projections for who the true homerun king will be to dethrone this unworthy one.