I'm not even sure what it would accomplish. The records would still be in the books. The images would still be vivid: Images of home runs splashing into McCovey Cove and kayaks swarming towards the coveted ball like roaches on a morsel. Images of the defiant scowl. The elbow pad. Images of pitchers issuing him walk after walk after walk, no matter the circumstances, just because you can't let
Barry Bonds
beat you.
I've never been one to say an athlete should retire before his own heart, body and spirit tell him it's time go. Well, almost never. I did so once, more than a decade ago. In my youthful naivety, I declared that
Jimmy Connors and leave them there. He was 31-years-old at the time, injured and ornery. The following summer, in 1991, Connors, healthy and rejuvenated, reached the semifinals of the U.S. Open in what remains the most stirring run tennis I had ever seen.
Since then, I've left all retirement talk to the athletes' financial advisors.
Play on. Play on as long as someone is willing to pay you millions to do so.
So what if your skills have dried up.
So what if guys who weren't born when you became a pro are regularly kicking your butt. So what if your own kids are pros.
So what if you spend more time in the training room than on the field or court.
So what if you can name all your ligaments and joint because you've injured most of them.
If some sap of an owner is willing to sign a check in your name, go for it, Geezer Jock. Make us proud.
This is different now. The Barry Bonds saga is beyond out of control -- months past absurd, and tragic as well.
If a home run falls in the woods…?
On Sunday afternoon in San Francisco, Bonds took Philadelphia pitcher
Brett Myers long yard on a 3-2 pitch in the 6th inning of what ended as a 6-2 Phillies win. The home run was Bonds' 13th of the season, the 721st of his career, leaving him just 34 behind
Hank Aaron's all-time mark.
No one cut into regular programming to tell us Bonds was one homer closer to baseball's most storied record. Not even ESPN, the Bonds Network. No alerts stirred my Blackberry. No one called my cell to say, Barry did it again.
That's because no one outside of San Francisco really cares anymore. We've been whipped, TOO drained of any emotion to feel one way or another. There've been too many denials. Too many shadows. Too much Congress. Too much circumstantial evidence. Too many unknowinglys. Too many investigations. Too much testifying. Too many arrests. Too much HGH. Too many guilty pleas. Too many former suppliers in jail. Too much George Mitchell. Too much Jose Canseco. Too many ex-friends/business partners bent on revenge. Too many angry ex-girlfriends.
No one in the stands at friendly AT&T Park caught Bonds' 721st. It bounced just over the Yahoo! sign in left-center field and it bounced harmlessly back onto the field. A souvenir that would have been worth a nice chuck of change if Bonds had never unknowingly injected anything chemical into his body was just another insignificant relic from a summer baseball game.
Reports last week noted that Bonds could be indicted soon on charges of perjury and money laundering, as early as this week. Then yesterday Bonds' attorney declared that she wasn't expecting a San Francisco grand jury to indict her client. "We have no reason to believe there is an indictment on those charges," she told Bloomberg, "We have some reason to believe the grand jury is going to be dismissed."
Seems this is the only way Bonds can make deadlines these days. His irrelevance was clear during the recent All-Star Games and its surrounding festivities. Another all-but-sure Hall of Famer,
Ken Griffey Jr., was missing, as well. But Bonds' absence loomed heavy as the dark, threatening clouds that hovered near Pittsburgh's PNC Park.
On baseball's biggest summer night, Barry Bonds did not exist.
Bonds went 1-for-4 on Sunday, dropping his less-than-average average to .247.
When an injured knee forced Bonds to miss almost all of the 2005 season, I wrote that the most feared hitter of all time wasn't going out like that. Not under an ugly cloud of accusations and denials. I thought he'd become reasonable healthy and use his arrogance as fuel for an in-y'alls'-faces charge towards Aaron this season.
Until something was proven, I thought Bonds deserved to go on – or out – on his own terms.
Now, I want him to go away.
The 38-thousand-plus at AT&T stood and cheered loudly as Bonds rounded the bases, crossed the plate and pointed towards the sky. They were still applauding as he entered the dugout and was embraced by his teammates.
That should be how we remember him – at least for awhile. Bonds should tell us today that he's stepping away of the game until this drama is over.
Just so we're clear: I'm not saying he should retire. He should able to return as long as the Giants or any team will have him.
But for his family. For his children. For himself. And, as clichéd as it may sound, for the game that's culpable in this mess, Bonds should recuse himself from baseball, at least until he is either indicted or the grand jury is released.
If no indictment is handed down, then Bonds should take his swings and continue his anemic chase. Even though, sadly, it's too late for us to care.
