The Salad Days

So it turns out another baseball season is upon us. As a new resident of the Twin Cities, I will no doubt begin to take an interest in the exploits of the Minnesota Twins. However, as a baseball fan who finds himself between words (still maybe a Dodger fan, not yet a Twins fan), some of my interests veer in the direction of larger baseball issues.

I have never liked Barry Bonds, though I think him to be the greatest player of my lifetime (with the possible exception of Ken Griffey Jr.) I do not pretend to be God, nor have I read the latest indictments by journalists. I could argue about steroids, but what's the point? Baseball has done itself in through its own continual disregard for its fans and the preservation of the game. If the comissioner were to come down hard on Bonds (which part of me would love to see), he would need to come down hard on (probably) hundreds of players.

So where does that leave Bonds? It leaves him as one of the legions of athletes who do not live up to what we want them to be. Some great heroes do: Tony Gwynn and Cal Ripken come to mind. Others we are content to leave them on the field as great ball players, and we leave them there. Babe Ruth and Mickey Mantle come to mind. But some are enigmas. Barry Bonds carries on the tradition of players like Ty Cobb and Ted Williams who are superior to everyone in their craft, but treat the media and their fans with contempt. Bonds may have never fought with fans or be grossly racist (as Cobb did and was) or lined foul balls deliberately into the stands (as Williams did), but his complete disregard for the integrity of the game shows that he has no regard for the fans. The fans in San Francisco who choose to greet him with standing ovations deserve him. After all, a player of his caliber who lacks character deserves all of our admiration for his craft, but none of our affection.