What Does Barry Bonds Deserve?

Right now, I'm numb. The anticipation I should be feeling right now just isn't there. Barry Bonds finally signed his contract last week and was to have reported to spring training today. As someone who watched with a youngster's pride as Hank Aaron passed Babe Ruth to become baseball's home-run king in 1975, I should be more excited about witnessing history once again.

But I'm not. I'm numb.

Oh, I'll watch, as I'm sure will most of America -- love Barry or not. But the moment Bonds hits his 22nd home run -- probably some time in June -- to surpass Hank Aaron and capture the most vaunted record in all of sports will not move me like it should.

And that's a shame.

Before Bonds -- like so many of his peers during baseball's Steroid Era -- pledged the fraternity of performance enhancers - "unknowingly," of course -- by trusting his physical fortunes to BALCO founder Victor Conte and his ilk, he was one of baseball's gifts. He was powerful. He was dominating. And he had pedigree.

Yes, he was arrogant. At best. But more than anything, he was a superstar. Someone you wanted to watch. And he was on his way towards becoming a one-man record book. If the strongest thing Bonds ever took was coffee, he'd probably still be on the precipice of home-run history.

Then came the "clear" and the ensuing storm, including a Congressional no-show, the "Bonds-hunt" trial and all it has wrought. I'm even tiring of pointing out that Bonds has never failed a steroid test. Innocent until proven guilty? Please. Not any more. Not in today's culture.

Look, we all know Bonds, now 42, did something that crossed baseball's fuzzy code of conduct. We just don't know what. Not that it matters any more. Just the other day I was watching a television report on Bonds' signing when my nine-year -old daughter piped up: "I don't like Barry Bonds." Yeah," added my son, 12.

When I asked why, they said in unison: "Because he cheated." I just sat there and continued to watch, figuring I'd save the discussion on the foundations of the American judicial system until they were older.

Two aspects of the Bonds debate are most bothersome:

The first is Commissioner Bud Selig's lame I-don't-know position on whether or not he will be present when Bonds breaks the record. Most people don't know that baseball's then commissioner, Bowie Kuhn, was not present in 1968 when Aaron passed Ruth. He had a prior commitment in Cincinnati and, well, those were different times. If the media made a big deal of his absence, I was too young to notice.

Last week, Selig told reporters in San Francisco: "If and when Barry Bonds breaks that record, it will be handled the same way when every other record is broken." That sound was me gagging. Every other record, my jock. Selig's absence when Bonds breaks the mark would speak volumes. His buddy-buddy relationship with Aaron notwithstanding, he should be there. Period. The commissioner's office is bigger than Bud Selig and he should be bigger than putting his own feelings over the obligations and duties of the office.

The other troubling aspect of the Bonds watch is the tone that suggests his achievement should be diminished because he is a "bad guy." It's often -- too often -- said that Bonds is simply not worthy of supplanting Aaron, a humble and thoughtful man who endured a barrage of racist bile as he approached and surpassed Ruth.

There's something about the tone of the talk that rankles me. It reminds me of the "good Negro, bad Negro" judgments made by whites in past years as they struggled to get used to us reaching places  particularly in the workplace -- from which we had been all-but barred. Many of us encountered those who, upon being surprised by our intelligence and capabilities, inferred that we weren't like the rest of them.

They seemed to be saying we were somehow different from our brothers and sisters who had not been as blessed by being able to attend certain schools or travel in certain circles. But we knew better, and we resented anyone who accepted us but still gripped their purses or fidgeted uncomfortably when one of our brothers or sisters passed them on the sidewalk.

Barry Bonds may not deserve anything more than the recognition earned for breaking sports' most hallowed record, including the commissioner's presence. But he does rightly deserve that, whether we like him or not.