Barry Bonds of the San Francisco Giants becoming baseball's all-time home run hitter this week brought a number of interesting reactions from fellow players, which illustrated a wide chasm in opinion between the athletes and most fans.
Bonds, of course, has been dogged for several years now by allegations that he has abused steroids or other performance-enhancing drugs. While he's never publicly tested positive for banned substances, the incredible increase in his physical size and strength in the late-1990s cannot be easily explained away. Plus, early in his career, his annual home run totals were in the 20s and 30s, which later evolved into consistent 40-plus homer seasons. The difference in his season-by-season home run statistics is not as dramatic as some would have you believe, but the increase coming in what would be the twilight of most careers is unusual.
Opposing players appeared to be matter-of-fact about Bonds when quoted after the record-breaking home run, or openly supportive. Arizona 2B Orlando Hudson applauded when he saw a highlight on the Chase Field video screen, Ryan Garko of the Indians said it was "sick" (good), and White Sox catcher A.J. Pierzynski said he was happy Bonds broke the record. Nary a negative comment could be heard.
Contrast that with the reaction of fans and the media. The people who watched Hudson's game in Phoenix booed, as did those in Denver. In San Diego, when Bonds tied the record last Saturday, there was much polite applause and a significant smattering of boos. The media has skewered Bonds for years, and a reporter actually asked him after he took a telephone call from President Bush whether Bush mentioned the federal investigation into a Bay Area lab (BALCO) that allegedly produced the performance enhancing substances.
No question, the players were being on their best behavior on a night that a cherished record was broken. Just about everything about the moment has been handled in a classy manner.
But there's a big difference in the way the players feel and the way the rest of us think. The players are all applauding a record. The rest of us are suspicious about the player who broke it.
Much of this is inside baseball, literally. Performance enhancing drugs has impacted other sports, most notably football, track and field, and bicycle racing. In those three other sports, however, so many of the participants do it that the competitive nature of the game is not altered to a significant degree. Baseball, however, is a much different game than it was in the 1970s and early-1980s, when pitching and speed were the key. The long ball has been king ever since, and in a lot of ways, the quality of the game has suffered. While it's not as bad as it was a few years ago, baseball fans have suffered through a lot of oafs who could hit the ball into the seats but couldn't make an accurate throw to the cutoff man or lay down a bunt.
Baseball players and management slough off the cheating allegations, but they're really symptomatic of a large problem facing society today, the willingness of many to cheat to get ahead. In a sense, baseball is no better than Enron or the GOP congress of that was tossed out in 2006. The ends justify the means. How we get ahead is not as important as how high we go. Meanwhile, civilization loses its sense of humanity and values.
What's crazy is we had no idea that anything was wrong with Enron until the scandal broke with sudden ferocity. The congressional scandals slowly unfolded and we only recently learned the true nature of Randy "Duke" Cunningham's corruption.
Baseball? We KNOW there's a problem. We've KNOWN of the problem for several years now. We all have our favorite suspects. Yet, we fans only express our disgust by booing Barry and grunting with co-workers at the water cooler. That's why baseball has moved at a glacial pace to fix the scandal within its game, and why the players and we the people have such divergent opinions on a cherished record that may, or may not, be tainted.
