MLBeat

We all knew it instantly. Even though it was to the deepest part of the park and just barely made it, we all knew it instantly.

You've all seen it by now. All I can add is that the atmosphere in the park vastly surpassed last night's, even before Barry came to bat in the fifth. Possibly because he was showing signs of life against Mike Bacsik even before that (double in the second, single in the third), but who knows. It just felt like the right time. The crowd seemed to feel it coming, not unlike the infamous cat who could smell death.

When it came, it was not necessarily a more intense experience in the stands than, say, a playoff sayonara, or an Auburn-LSU game, but it came close, and it had the unmistakable feel of being unique. People may assume that A-Rod will pass Bonds eventually, but don't be so sure. We very well may never see another night like this in our lifetimes.

The initial moment of jubilation is going to stay with me forever. As will the attendant who immediately ran out to replace the now-historic bases. As will the fans who leaned over the railing to slap the freshly-placed 756 next to Bonds' name on the brick outfield wall. As will Hank Aaron's videotaped kudos, providing fitting (if reserved) closure to the saga. As will the inevitable straggler who traipsed gleefully in from center field, stopped near second base when he realized the cops had him encircled, and had already began to kneel in submission when he took a vicious-looking pin from John Law. Just as understated an intrusion as the ensuing ceremony itself.

But no curtain calls for Bonds! I've never seen a curtain call out here in San Francisco, come to think of it. In my St. Louisan days I saw curtain calls for McGwire, Will Clark, Scott Rolen, Ray Lankford, Jim Edmonds, and probably Bo Hart at some point too. Perhaps things are just different out here by the Bay. But gosh almighty, wouldn't this have been a good time for one? Or are fans really this happy to see the long march end, and a trudge of fifty moribund and poorly-attended games begin?

Equally surprising to me was the double switch that removed Bonds from the game immediately after the fifth. Bruce Bochy even sent starter Barry Zito back out to throw warmups before jerking him out as part of the switch, but Bonds didn't really get the follow-up ovation he was hoping for because the fans didn't yet fully realize he was leaving the game so early. They responded in kind by vacating the premises; by the ninth the seagulls once again may have outnumbered the crowd. Every Bonds-related managerial move made by Bochy in recent weeks has underscored that these few weeks have been an exhibition, a sideshow that has eclipsed the increasingly impotent main event. But I've harped on that enough already by now.

(Good thing Selig wasn't around to see it. Why spoil an event like this with a man guaranteed to turn all the cheers into boos? In the end Selig achieved the unthinkable: make Bonds appear a sympathetic figure by comparison. Not to mention render himself a mere parenthetical paragraph in the recap.)

I promised not to preach, I promised not to take a side, and then I came home from the Call Center tonight and read the piece at ESPN.com that Gene Wojciehowski apparently had prepared for this moment, and something set me off. There's nothing special about it -- a hack job, you've read several just like it already. But it was something about the way it reeked of the self-importance too many of us sportswriters tend to bathe in - dealing in cliches as accepted truths, lumping in Sammy Sosa with the rest despite no evidence to go on aside from the court of public opinion (and it is not often you will find me defending Sammy Sosa in any capacity), falsely dichotomizing Bonds with Hank Aaron in the exact way this article describes, pumping up the mythical importance of 756 with his rhetoric so that it will sound more shocking and meaningful when he anoints it as tainted, with the ever-insipid asterisk. It's not just him though, of course. It feels like it's everyone. Even my new favorite baseball site The Dugout can't get over themselves. More and more often I am being lectured that what is happening to baseball is Wrong, and I am outright commanded (as Wojciehowski does) to care about it.

But I don't care. Nor can I honestly apologize for not caring. Instead I direct you to local chap Ray Ratto's take over at CBS Sportsline. He gets it right.

No matter how the huddled masses of the sports media world tried to frame the Bonds chase, no matter how many snarky Deadspin commenters or "Rome Is Burning" callers parrot some invective they heard from someone somewhere about Bonds or steroids, no matter how many hacks like Wojciehowski unwittingly associate themselves with the likes of Bill O'Reilly by furthering the ever-growing national perception that San Francisco is somehow a separate cultural island with values alien to the rest of America, they can't change how it felt to see that ball arc softly through the air towards the ecstatic arms of the crowd. If this was your town, and if Bonds had been your team's cornerstone for fifteen years, you would have felt it too.


[Our gratitude to The Big Lead for the link.]

Labels: barry bonds, game reports, mlbeat as soapbox