Monday, June 25, 2001
Don't pass judgment on Bonds
I don't care if Barry Bonds doesn't sign autographs. I don't care if he has three lockers at Pac Bell Park and everybody else has one. He can sit in his leather recliner and watch TV if he likes.
Bonds can talk to the media, or not. He can make nice to the public, or not. He can demand privacy or recognition or — if he's like lots of celebrities — both. The closer he gets to smashing Mark McGwire's 70-home run record — and right now, that seems as inevitable as rain — the more we'll want to “know” Barry Bonds.
Already, we're passing judgment on Bonds the person. Fans and media make the mistake of believing they “know” athletes. Players who sign autographs and fill notebooks are
Good Guys. Players who ignore kids with Sharpie markers and feud with the press are not.
What we know about players as people is nothing. All we know for sure is what they do when they're playing. Bonds doesn't owe us great quotes or lots of autographs or happy talk. He isn't obligated to show us the “real” Barry Bonds. All he owes anyone is great baseball. Currently, he's delivering.
McGwire was churlish, too
Cal Ripken will go to the All Star Game next month because he is a Good Guy, who Signs Autographs and has a Great Work Ethic. It can't be because he can still play, because, at age almost-41, he can't. We like Ripken as a person, though, even though over the years he has revealed no more of himself than Bonds has.
We wonder if Bonds, not known as a Good Guy, will handle the pressure of a home run chase. He's aloof, we say. He keeps his distance. Barry Bonds is. . . Moody.
Yet nobody chooses to remember what a churl McGwire was for a large part of the '98 season. He talked infrequently, never after losses. When McGwire wasn't downplaying his chase of Roger Maris' record, he was telling us what a burden it was being McGwire.
McGwire carried his pursuit of 61 around like a gallows. It wasn't until the last few weeks — when some of Sammy Sosa's obvious joy rubbed off on him — that McGwire seemed to have any fun.
But Big Mac was a heckuva guy.
Record losing meaning
Small ballparks, big biceps and baseballs wound tighter than Loni Anderson's face make Bonds' run on 70 almost trivial. It's not Barry's fault he's ahead of schedule to break a hallowed record that was broken just three years ago. It's just his turn.
Bonds' homer run is so ridiculous, he reached 39 dingers faster by 15 games than any player ever. Babe Ruth was second, with 39 in 89 games, in 1928.
That's silly. For a record to mean something, it can't be assaulted like Iwo Jima every few years. The home run record is starting to look like the four-minute mile.
Bonds is on schedule to hit 85 home runs, after never having hit more than 49 in a year. He's hitting one every 5.56 at-bats. Hitting homers should not be like making dunks or extra points.
Regardless, the closer Bonds gets, the more the public will expect from him. Personally, I couldn't care less. Want to know who Bonds is? Watch him play. That's as close as you'll get.
E-mail: pdaugherty@enquirer.com. Past columns at Enquirer.com/columns/daugherty.
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DAUGHERTY: Don't pass judgment on Bonds