Giants 4- 3 Nats
Earlier this week, Barry Bonds returned to baseball following a prolonged knee injury. He returned to a ballclub and a city that had sorely missed his power at the plate; his fans in the Bay Area, apparently, had been ready to give him the benefit of the doubt and welcome him back to the lineup with nary a jeer or catcall. Were fans truly prepared to believe, as doubtless many Giants fans seemed to believe, that Bonds had taken steroids unwittingly? From the warmth of his reception in San Francisco, one might have even been tempted to think that the flax-seed oil of forgiveness had salved the wounds opened up by the now-infamous BALCO affair.
But when Bonds stepped out of the visitors' dugout to lead off the top of the 2nd inning tonight at RFK Stadium, the truth stood up to greet him. From the moment that his helmeted head appeared at the dugout's entrance, the boos of 32,403 people--give or take a few Giants fans--cascaded down upon him. From the upper decks came calls of "Cheater!" and chants of "Steroids!" In the very first row, only a feeble spit away from the visitors' on-deck circle, one fan waved a bright red cardboard asterisk, a yard wide, the face of an impassive Bonds. If his name was announced over the loudspeakers, it was lost in a sea of abuse. Even the scoreboard-keeper seemed to have abandoned his duties to jeer Bonds--the names on the scoreboard were those of the Nats, who had been retired the inning before. Nor did did the boos stop, as many such displays do, when Bonds took his place in the batter's box--it continued, louder than ever, punctuated by cheers for the strikes thrown by Nationals ace Livan Hernandez. When Bonds finally popped up to a waiting Jose Vidro, the crowd continued to boo--and was not satisfied until they saw Bonds disappear into the dugout once more.
And if Bonds thought that his towering solo home run in the top of the 4th would silence his detractors and vindicate him, he was mistaken. Yes, the booing did, briefly, give way to applause when the ball sailed over the fence. But the applause just as quickly gave way to still more and louder booing and catcalling as Bonds ponderously made his way around the bases and back into the dugout, grinning defiantly.
Two things about Barry Bonds are now absolutely undeniable. The first is that he is, perhaps, the greatest hitter of his generation in baseball, destined to equal or surpass Hank Aaron's career home-run record, perhaps even that of Sadaharu Oh. The second is that, while Bonds will eventually gain the recognition he has always sought, he will, ultimately, be denied the respect he has always craved. I expect the boos for Bonds to continue throughout this three-game series in Washington, and to follow him to Colorado, and San Diego, and everywhere else he goes for as long as he plays baseball. No matter what his achievements, no matter what he says or does, Bonds will always carry an asterisk a yard wide with him; any discussion of his considerable achievements will now be inextricably bound up in a web of provisos, exceptions, and speculation. And, try as he might, this titanic ballplayer's name will never again be heard above the jeers and catcalls of a furious public.
But when Bonds stepped out of the visitors' dugout to lead off the top of the 2nd inning tonight at RFK Stadium, the truth stood up to greet him. From the moment that his helmeted head appeared at the dugout's entrance, the boos of 32,403 people--give or take a few Giants fans--cascaded down upon him. From the upper decks came calls of "Cheater!" and chants of "Steroids!" In the very first row, only a feeble spit away from the visitors' on-deck circle, one fan waved a bright red cardboard asterisk, a yard wide, the face of an impassive Bonds. If his name was announced over the loudspeakers, it was lost in a sea of abuse. Even the scoreboard-keeper seemed to have abandoned his duties to jeer Bonds--the names on the scoreboard were those of the Nats, who had been retired the inning before. Nor did did the boos stop, as many such displays do, when Bonds took his place in the batter's box--it continued, louder than ever, punctuated by cheers for the strikes thrown by Nationals ace Livan Hernandez. When Bonds finally popped up to a waiting Jose Vidro, the crowd continued to boo--and was not satisfied until they saw Bonds disappear into the dugout once more.
And if Bonds thought that his towering solo home run in the top of the 4th would silence his detractors and vindicate him, he was mistaken. Yes, the booing did, briefly, give way to applause when the ball sailed over the fence. But the applause just as quickly gave way to still more and louder booing and catcalling as Bonds ponderously made his way around the bases and back into the dugout, grinning defiantly.
Two things about Barry Bonds are now absolutely undeniable. The first is that he is, perhaps, the greatest hitter of his generation in baseball, destined to equal or surpass Hank Aaron's career home-run record, perhaps even that of Sadaharu Oh. The second is that, while Bonds will eventually gain the recognition he has always sought, he will, ultimately, be denied the respect he has always craved. I expect the boos for Bonds to continue throughout this three-game series in Washington, and to follow him to Colorado, and San Diego, and everywhere else he goes for as long as he plays baseball. No matter what his achievements, no matter what he says or does, Bonds will always carry an asterisk a yard wide with him; any discussion of his considerable achievements will now be inextricably bound up in a web of provisos, exceptions, and speculation. And, try as he might, this titanic ballplayer's name will never again be heard above the jeers and catcalls of a furious public.