An open letter to Barry Bonds.
Dear Barry,
Get over yourself.
I know that's probably going to be hard for you over the next couple of weeks as you approach (and inevitably) pass Babe Ruth for number two on the all-time home run list.
I'm sure it will be even harder as this season unfolds and next year comes around, and we all see whether or not you end up passing Hank Aaron.
But please, for the sake of baseball fans everywhere and for the game itself, try. Try your damned hardest.
There is no Barry Bonds pity party. No one feels sorry for you. No one ever will.
No one is going to watch your TV show for any reason other than hoping that you finally fess up to cheating.
No one felt sorry for you tonight on that TV show when you rambled on and on about how much racist hate mail you get, and how you're going through just what Hank Aaron went through when he was chasing The Babe. Hammerin' Hank was breaking the record in the early 70s, playing for the Atlanta Braves in a Deep South freshly removed from the Civil Rights movement. He faced legitimate racial threats:
"Dear Nigger Henry,
You are (not) going to break this record established by the great Babe Ruth if I can help it. ...
Whites are far more superior than jungle bunnies. My gun is watching your every black move."
This is 2006, Barry. Yes, there are creeps and disgraces to society out there who probably send you some letters. But don't try to convince anyone that it's anywhere near what Aaron went through. It isn't. And anyone with a remote grasp on American history knows that it can't be.
I hope you break the record, I really do. But I also hope that the very next day, the investigators find the irrefutable evidence that will finally give the world undeniable proof that you are, indeed a liar. A cheat. A fake. A disgrace to the game. And I hope that the day after you break that record, you have it taken away. I don't want you to have an asterisk next to your name, saying that you broke the record while using performance enhancers. That little bit of ink ("B. Bonds - 756") would be a waste.
I'll admit it, I almost felt sorry for you for a split second yesterday when that Padres fan threw a syringe onto the field at you. Even though you said after the game “If it makes them happy to go out of their way to destroy me or whatever they want to try to do, go right ahead. It doesn’t bother me,” that look on your face after you bent over to pick it up was screaming anger. It was screaming emberrassment and shame and sadness. Maybe because you're scared that it's going to happen 161 more times this year. Or maybe you just had that look because you know you deserve it.
I'm not saying it's okay for fans to throw anything onto the field at players. That fan's actions were uncalled for. Maybe he/she should have just held the syringe up in the air, shouting "DOES THIS LOOK FAMILIAR, BARRY?"
Don't be naive enough to think that was a one-time thing. Did you look around you last night at Petco? The signs saying: "Barr-Roids," "Bonds 1st in Hall of Shame," "Cheaters Never Prosper,'' "No Confess, No Hall of Fame," "Bonds Greatest Cheater of the Era," "Huge Head, Tiny Bat, Tiny Balls," and, simply yet profoundly, "*''? Get used to them. This was San Diego on Opening Day. Imagine New York or LA once you really start to get close to Aaron.
These fans are not going to show mercy. They love their game, and you insulted, maybe even ruined, it. They are going to harsh. They are going to be relentless. And they are going to be right.
So strap yourself in and enjoy the ride, Barry. This is the game you have created: a game where you'll be booed every time you step to the plate, a game where there will be countless signs and homemade t-shirts and chants emerging from the stands while you're on the road, maybe even when you're in San Fran. You have created a game of doubt, hatred and deception. That's the game you created, that's the game you'll have to play.
Good luck, you walking asterisk.
Sincerely,
Heath Williams
Get over yourself.
I know that's probably going to be hard for you over the next couple of weeks as you approach (and inevitably) pass Babe Ruth for number two on the all-time home run list.
I'm sure it will be even harder as this season unfolds and next year comes around, and we all see whether or not you end up passing Hank Aaron.
But please, for the sake of baseball fans everywhere and for the game itself, try. Try your damned hardest.
There is no Barry Bonds pity party. No one feels sorry for you. No one ever will.
No one is going to watch your TV show for any reason other than hoping that you finally fess up to cheating.
No one felt sorry for you tonight on that TV show when you rambled on and on about how much racist hate mail you get, and how you're going through just what Hank Aaron went through when he was chasing The Babe. Hammerin' Hank was breaking the record in the early 70s, playing for the Atlanta Braves in a Deep South freshly removed from the Civil Rights movement. He faced legitimate racial threats:
"Dear Nigger Henry,
You are (not) going to break this record established by the great Babe Ruth if I can help it. ...
Whites are far more superior than jungle bunnies. My gun is watching your every black move."
This is 2006, Barry. Yes, there are creeps and disgraces to society out there who probably send you some letters. But don't try to convince anyone that it's anywhere near what Aaron went through. It isn't. And anyone with a remote grasp on American history knows that it can't be.
I hope you break the record, I really do. But I also hope that the very next day, the investigators find the irrefutable evidence that will finally give the world undeniable proof that you are, indeed a liar. A cheat. A fake. A disgrace to the game. And I hope that the day after you break that record, you have it taken away. I don't want you to have an asterisk next to your name, saying that you broke the record while using performance enhancers. That little bit of ink ("B. Bonds - 756") would be a waste.
I'll admit it, I almost felt sorry for you for a split second yesterday when that Padres fan threw a syringe onto the field at you. Even though you said after the game “If it makes them happy to go out of their way to destroy me or whatever they want to try to do, go right ahead. It doesn’t bother me,” that look on your face after you bent over to pick it up was screaming anger. It was screaming emberrassment and shame and sadness. Maybe because you're scared that it's going to happen 161 more times this year. Or maybe you just had that look because you know you deserve it.
I'm not saying it's okay for fans to throw anything onto the field at players. That fan's actions were uncalled for. Maybe he/she should have just held the syringe up in the air, shouting "DOES THIS LOOK FAMILIAR, BARRY?"
Don't be naive enough to think that was a one-time thing. Did you look around you last night at Petco? The signs saying: "Barr-Roids," "Bonds 1st in Hall of Shame," "Cheaters Never Prosper,'' "No Confess, No Hall of Fame," "Bonds Greatest Cheater of the Era," "Huge Head, Tiny Bat, Tiny Balls," and, simply yet profoundly, "*''? Get used to them. This was San Diego on Opening Day. Imagine New York or LA once you really start to get close to Aaron.
These fans are not going to show mercy. They love their game, and you insulted, maybe even ruined, it. They are going to harsh. They are going to be relentless. And they are going to be right.
So strap yourself in and enjoy the ride, Barry. This is the game you have created: a game where you'll be booed every time you step to the plate, a game where there will be countless signs and homemade t-shirts and chants emerging from the stands while you're on the road, maybe even when you're in San Fran. You have created a game of doubt, hatred and deception. That's the game you created, that's the game you'll have to play.
Good luck, you walking asterisk.
Sincerely,
Heath Williams