The Sports Guy meditates on the legacy of Barry Bonds:
Opening Day came and went without Bonds for the first time in 22 years, and nobody seemed to notice. I didn’t think about him for more than two seconds all spring. Did anyone? Can you remember being a part of a single “I wonder where Bonds is going to end up?” conversation? Did you refresh ESPN.com incessantly in hopes of a Bonds update? Were fans in Baltimore storming Orioles headquarters to demand the team sign the much-needed slugger who had 28 homers and a whopping .480 OBP last season?
Of course not. No one cared. The best hitter since Ted Williams is gone and forgotten. We wanted him to go away, and he did.
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The pre-BALCO Bonds was the single best player of the 1990s—a flawless leftfielder who averaged .302/36/108 with an on-base percentage of .434, joined the 40/40 club and earned three MVPs and eight Gold Gloves. Had he finished his career the old-fashioned way, Bonds would have cruised into Cooperstown. Now he’ll likely be left out until the day the Hall wises up and opens a wing for disgraced legends.
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For all intents and purposes, Bonds’ career has vanished into thin air. His home ballpark has had three different names (Pac Bell, SBC and AT&T), but it was mostly considered the House That Barry Built. This season, though, all traces of his dirigible-size head have been erased. Forget about a statue, inside or outside the stadium; there isn’t a plaque, a banner or even a picture. It’s like Bonds never happened.
We may not have heard the last of Barry yet. What happens later in the season when a team that’s struggling to make the playoffs, with a manager who’s hanging on by his fingernails, needs a reliable power hitter to get over the hump? That big ol’ swelled head might look mighty appealing in the dog days of August.