Aug 12, 2007

BEING GREAT JUST WASN’T GOOD ENOUGH FOR BARRY BONDS

     The 1998 season was a momentous and historical year for Barry Bonds.   That season Bonds surpassed the 400 home run mark and thus became the first player in the history of the game to accumulate 400 home runs and 400 stolen bases.  All-around ability had long been thought of as the ultimate signature for baseball greatness and the combination of speed and power had always placed that player at the game’s pinnacle.  His career accomplishment should have, Bonds believed, elevated him into the pantheon of the sport’s all-time best players.  The only problem was—nobody paid attention.  His accomplishment was an afterthought.  That season home runs were at the forefront.  Chicks didn’t dig the all-around athlete—they dug the home run.

       At the conclusion of that season Bonds looked at his career stats and wondered why he wasn’t being deified.   He had just completed a ninth season with at least 30 stolen bases, an eighth season with at least 30 home runs, 100 RBI’s, and 30 doubles, a seventh season with at least 100 walks, 290 total bases, 150 hits, and 100 runs, and a sixth season with at least a  .300 average.  The proof was in the numbers—Barry Bonds was great.  A certain hall-of of-famer.  But Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa supposedly saved baseball that season by embarking on an historic home run chase that culminated in the breaking of Roger Maris’ single season record.  Nobody cared about Bonds and his all-around abilities—everyone wanted to see McGwire launch 500-foot shots to the deepest recesses of major league ballparks. 

       Bonds knew at the time what everyone would learn in later years—both Sosa and McGwire were being aided by performance enhancing substances.   He was raised by a major league ballplayer who carried with him bitterness and distrust of all people and who believed that his skills and abilities were severely undervalued by everyone associated with baseball.  Barry grew up with the same sense of disassociation.  He believed his accomplishments were shrugged off and after the 1998 season ended he was certain that his special form of talents would never be appreciated.  Whether through insecurity or an insatiable need to appease his father Barry made a decision to transform from being an all-around five-tool player with great athletic ability to becoming a large power-hitting pariah. 

      But what did Bonds give up along the way?  Perhaps he hoped for the same amount of love and admiration that were given to both Sosa and McGwire—two noted prickly personalities.  He believed he was a better ballplayer than both of them—and he was right, and he felt he deserved as much attention if not more for being better.  Bonds always felt that the love would follow with the numbers.  He believed that being the best in baseball would more than compensate for his cold personality and his inability to speak with warmth and sincerity.  Being the best all-around baseball player should have been enough to be loved—but it wasn’t.  The landscape had changed—he would change with it, and be the best again.

       Sadly, for Bonds, even besting McGwire’s record three years later didn’t bring with it the love and respect he felt he deserved.  He had been the best ballplayer, and he wasn’t loved, and now he was the best home run hitter, and he still wasn’t loved.  And just like his father, that bitterness worsened as he blamed everyone else for that lack of appreciation.  It didn’t matter to Barry that he was selfish, that he was distant, that he was condescending and often just downright nasty.  None of that mattered.  He was the best, and he should be treated as such.   He was confused. 

       Then two things turned him inside out…BALCO, and the death of the one person who understood him, his father.  Now he was labeled a cheater—and he felt alone.   There was only one thing left for him to prove his point.  He would become the greatest home run hitter of all time.  Then nobody could deny his greatness.  He would hold the career home run record, the single season home run record, and he would remain the only player in history to record 500 home runs and 500 stolen bases.  At that point he could proclaim himself as the greatest of all time.

       The only problem was that after pushing everyone away for so many years he would celebrate his accomplishments alone.  As the greatest home run hitter of all time crossed home plate his son greeted him with a perfunctory hug.  Then each of his teammates and his coaches came over to congratulate him with polite backslaps and handshakes before returning to the dugout.  The moment, supposedly historic, was brief.  There wasn’t any warmth.  There wasn’t any love.

       He may have accomplished his goal of being the greatest of all-time, but he failed in his pursuit of acceptance and love.

       Bonds will return next season, likely as a DH for an AL team (Oakland?) and will attempt to reach 800 home runs.  It is the only goal remaining, and it is the only mark left that could finally attain the adoration he believes he deserves.  Once again he will be disappointed.

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