Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Bondsman, Plus the Weekend You Wished You Had
It’s not like I care that much about baseball. I used to care deeply, but that was before I hit puberty, and now I find it merely to be a decent diversion when I don’t have anything else to think about - which isn’t too often. Even so, I recognize that it is considered by many to be a perfect game, a microcosm of all that is meaningful in life and the universe, and whether I buy into that or not, as a USA-er I am immersed in it as a sport and a weltschmertz regardless. And since I live in San Francisco, I am now drenched in news of Barry Bonds having hit his 715th home run, a feat equaled by only one other player in the history of the game. Barry’s now number two on the all-time hit list, in a manner of speaking. But he’s taken a lot of flak lately and it’s all being revived in the light of this news. He’s on the juice, you know. It seems he’s taken steroids and has artificially enhanced his performance. He’s not a man, he’s a biomorphic creation of medical science’s evil shadow. Should we even credit his accomplishment, much less give him recognition as a great sportsman?
I am trapped into this controversy by my own sense of empathy. Here’s a man who has accomplished something extraordinary, even if it’s not the sort of accomplishment that makes lives better or improves our planet or even makes much of a difference to me. But he’s been working at it for a very long time, dedicating his life to it, and it may just come to pass that he’ll hit another 41 of those suckers and make it to all-time number 1 on the home run list. And he’s getting no respect from most anybody. That seems sad to me, and I find myself compelled to consider the equities and ask myself, is he getting what he deserves, or not?
I think he’s not. Though it’s no sweat off my back, or whereever off of which one might sweat, I think Barry’s getting the short end of a 42 inch stick. And since no one can stop me now, here’s my reasoning. The first titan who needs to be considered here is the Babe - George Herman Ruth. Ruth was and is an undisputed champion, even though he’s now officially #3 on the all-time list. His record of 714 lifetime homers stood for nearly 4 decades, and no one came close to his accomplishments during his tenure. He was a titan and deserves to be recognized as one. But let’s face it: his achievements were won against a league consisting of white men from the United States. He didn’t face anyone from the Negro Leagues, and he didn’t face anyone from any of the other nations that currently account for so many top performers. If Bonds had been hitting only against white men from the United States, and only white men from the United States were in the field against him (which would impact pitching choices), how many homers would he have hit by now? I bet it would be more than 715. The Babe, for all his greatness, played on a radically uneven field, and his record deserves an asterisk for that reason.
Which brings us to Hammering Hank Aaron, who reached 755 by the end of his career. Hank started in the Negro Leagues and fought his way to national prominence in the face of racism and bigotry. His power and grace, even under terrible pressure, are beyond question. He was the very last of the Negro Leaguers to play in the “majors.” And by the end of his career, there was even a smattering of Dominicans, Puerto Ricans, El Salvadoreans, and even the occasional Mexican playing alongside or against him. He earned every accolade he received, and more. And he did it, we’re pretty sure, without performance enhancing drugs. Barry Bonds didn’t - he reached #2 with the assistance of Balco’s Little Helper, the “cream” and the “clear.” Why should we mention them in the same breath?
First, Barry is playing in a truly internationalized league. I don’t mean those weirdo Canadian teams - I mean that the players who are coming from the far East, from Latin and South America, from everywhere the game is played. More foreign-born players are at the top of the game than ever before. I must imagine that, the broader the pool of players, the deeper the range of talent. Performance, on a purely technical level, has improved. And therefore, the game is harder today than it was before.
But let’s look a little deeper. Barry is not the only player accused of juicing. Many sluggers are enmired in the same issue, and so are many pitchers. Hank Aaron didn’t face pitchers who were steroid-enhanced monsters, hurling pitches at consistently higher speeds, fielding with ever-decreasing reaction times. If Barry was the only one to be drugging himself, I’d agree that he had an unfair advantage. But the field is still comparatively even today, because the drug scourge is so damn common. When so many players are juicing, the advantage fades from a competitive edge to merely remaining competitive, at some level. I don’t think we should be giving Barry a pass on any illegal doping he may be guilty of - but given the realities of the game he’s playing, he shouldn’t be deprived of recognition on that basis. He’s playing a tougher game against tougher, stronger, more doped-up competition. I take my hat off to him. He deserves full credit for what he’s done.
This sports-rant has come courtesy of a long, delightful weekend that I got to spend with
Tara, Phil, and the Natelet. For three days straight we didn’t turn on the television or get into the car - except to buy groceries. I made pancakes, and bacon, and Chilean corn-and-meat pie with a huge “leche asado”
flan
for dessert, and grilled black-forest ham sandwiches with jalepeno jelly, and overall we
ate ourselves into a stupor
on a regular basis. We visited the
museum
and the
beach
and the conservatory of flowers, and
lounged
and laughed and let the
munchkins
get to be good friends. I’ll have some sort of more typical Chucklisms coming up later in the week. Hope you had enough fun since Friday to last you to the next one, too....
