This is not a place to go for sports news...
Barry Bonds tied Hank Aaron's record today, hitting his 755th career home run. This is a travesty of moumental proportions. Right now, I have no doubt in my mind that Bonds has used steroids to enhance his performance. There is, of course, the tiniest shadow of doubt, but you don't have to prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt, you have to prove it beyond reasonable doubt. Reasonable doubt was lost when he was indicted for perjury. Reasonable doubt was lost when his personal trainer chose to spend time in prison rather than testify at the perjury hearing, where his testimony could have easily cleared Bonds' good name if, in fact, Bonds had a good name left to clear. Reasonable doubt was lost when, right about the time he began seeing a doctor who we know had supplied steroids to many baseball players, he suddenly became insanely muscular, and a dick. Well, more of a dick. This is the man who was voted off of his college baseball team by an 11 to 1 ratio.
Bonds' own testimony is not that he hasn't used steroids, but that his steroid use was uknown to him. He says the doctor told him the steroids were, alternatingly, 'flaxseed oil' and an unknown 'arthritis balm'. Let me attempt to simulate the conversation between Bonds and his Doctor:
Bonds: "Hi, Doc!"
Doctor: "Take this."
Bonds: "There's nothing wrong with me."
Doctor: "Take it anyway."
Bonds: "What is it?"
Doctor: "It's medicine."
Bonds: "What kinds of medicine?"
Doctor: {slaps Bonds across the face}
Bonds: "Oh, thanks Doc! I can't wait to take this drug that you won't identify to me! I hope it doesn't make me far stronger than I ever have been over my already long baseball career, make me into a moody prick, send me back through all the trials and tribulations of puberty, shorten my lifespan significantly, dishonor my father and godfather, and cast a shadow over all of my accomplishments as an athlete!"
Doctor: {slaps Bonds across the face, but clearly enjoys it more this time}
Bull, meet my friend Shit. I'm sure you two will have a wonderful time together.
Bonds' tainted legacy is close to overtaking some of the best players to ever grace this game. He will soon be ahead of Hank Aaron in home runs, after already raping the memory of Babe Ruth and Willie Mays. He's chasing Ruth, Aaron and Lou Gehrig in RBIs, and is close to Ty Cobb and Rickey Henderson in runs. He may even break Pete Rose's record for the most times on base (Yes, I include Pete Rose amongst the greats of the game. He only bet on himself to win. That's not cheating, that's BALLS!).
The Giants play Pittsburgh after one more game against San Diego, that The Asshole will most likely sit out (heaven forbid he be forced to play a day game after a night game, like EVERYONE ELSE IN BASEBALL. After all, this last game went to 12 innings. He deserves a rest, after being forced to watch the game from the bench after the 8th). He is coming back to his old home city, where I used to watch him as a child and think, 'I want to be this man. I want nothing more in my life than to someday become what he is, right now.'
Yeah, I was a baseball nerd. That's probably why I'm here right now. If it weren't for long nights at the batting cages, pumping in quarters, my father could probably retire right now. When I wasn't at the batting cages, I was throwing tennis balls off of brick walls so that I knew what to do with my glove when it came time. I have turned a triple play. At the YMCA. Singlehandedly. Runners on first and second, no outs. Kid hits a line drive that would have cracked me square in the chest had I not caught it. The runner at second didn't tag up, so I tapped the bag to get him out. The runner at first didn't think I stood a chance of catching it, and was only about three feet from me when we both simultaneously realized that I had caught the ball. A triple goddamned play. I was into it.
I was into it, and I followed the Pittsburgh Pirates religiously. I slept with an AM radio under my pillow if the game went on past my bed time, I went to 10-15 games a season, I still have albums, organized by year, that contain the Pirates' entire starting roster for that year in baseball cards, and I followed the big three the way everyone else in Pittsburgh did, Bobby Bonilla, Andy Van Slyke, and Barry 'God Amongst Men' Bonds.
He's coming back in a few days, to my city. He's coming back on the brink of defiling one of the greatest pieces of baseball history. He's coming back to break the record of the man who broke the record that once was considered unbreakable. And I have a wish. I wish that whoever takes the mound against Bonds will strike a blow for Hank Aaron, will strike a blow for history, will strike a blow for the city that Bonds left in the dust, for 3,000 hits and for Roberto Clemente, the game's greatest humanitarian and a man who also played for my city. I hope he winds up, and delivers a seething fastball right to Bonds' fucking temple, and knocks him forever out of the game I once loved before he destroys it any more than he has.
Bonds' own testimony is not that he hasn't used steroids, but that his steroid use was uknown to him. He says the doctor told him the steroids were, alternatingly, 'flaxseed oil' and an unknown 'arthritis balm'. Let me attempt to simulate the conversation between Bonds and his Doctor:
Bonds: "Hi, Doc!"
Doctor: "Take this."
Bonds: "There's nothing wrong with me."
Doctor: "Take it anyway."
Bonds: "What is it?"
Doctor: "It's medicine."
Bonds: "What kinds of medicine?"
Doctor: {slaps Bonds across the face}
Bonds: "Oh, thanks Doc! I can't wait to take this drug that you won't identify to me! I hope it doesn't make me far stronger than I ever have been over my already long baseball career, make me into a moody prick, send me back through all the trials and tribulations of puberty, shorten my lifespan significantly, dishonor my father and godfather, and cast a shadow over all of my accomplishments as an athlete!"
Doctor: {slaps Bonds across the face, but clearly enjoys it more this time}
Bull, meet my friend Shit. I'm sure you two will have a wonderful time together.
Bonds' tainted legacy is close to overtaking some of the best players to ever grace this game. He will soon be ahead of Hank Aaron in home runs, after already raping the memory of Babe Ruth and Willie Mays. He's chasing Ruth, Aaron and Lou Gehrig in RBIs, and is close to Ty Cobb and Rickey Henderson in runs. He may even break Pete Rose's record for the most times on base (Yes, I include Pete Rose amongst the greats of the game. He only bet on himself to win. That's not cheating, that's BALLS!).
The Giants play Pittsburgh after one more game against San Diego, that The Asshole will most likely sit out (heaven forbid he be forced to play a day game after a night game, like EVERYONE ELSE IN BASEBALL. After all, this last game went to 12 innings. He deserves a rest, after being forced to watch the game from the bench after the 8th). He is coming back to his old home city, where I used to watch him as a child and think, 'I want to be this man. I want nothing more in my life than to someday become what he is, right now.'
Yeah, I was a baseball nerd. That's probably why I'm here right now. If it weren't for long nights at the batting cages, pumping in quarters, my father could probably retire right now. When I wasn't at the batting cages, I was throwing tennis balls off of brick walls so that I knew what to do with my glove when it came time. I have turned a triple play. At the YMCA. Singlehandedly. Runners on first and second, no outs. Kid hits a line drive that would have cracked me square in the chest had I not caught it. The runner at second didn't tag up, so I tapped the bag to get him out. The runner at first didn't think I stood a chance of catching it, and was only about three feet from me when we both simultaneously realized that I had caught the ball. A triple goddamned play. I was into it.
I was into it, and I followed the Pittsburgh Pirates religiously. I slept with an AM radio under my pillow if the game went on past my bed time, I went to 10-15 games a season, I still have albums, organized by year, that contain the Pirates' entire starting roster for that year in baseball cards, and I followed the big three the way everyone else in Pittsburgh did, Bobby Bonilla, Andy Van Slyke, and Barry 'God Amongst Men' Bonds.
He's coming back in a few days, to my city. He's coming back on the brink of defiling one of the greatest pieces of baseball history. He's coming back to break the record of the man who broke the record that once was considered unbreakable. And I have a wish. I wish that whoever takes the mound against Bonds will strike a blow for Hank Aaron, will strike a blow for history, will strike a blow for the city that Bonds left in the dust, for 3,000 hits and for Roberto Clemente, the game's greatest humanitarian and a man who also played for my city. I hope he winds up, and delivers a seething fastball right to Bonds' fucking temple, and knocks him forever out of the game I once loved before he destroys it any more than he has.