Some individuals fill up a room; the rare ones fill up a stadium. When we went to AT&T Park last Friday night, our eyes bounced irresistibly from the action at home plate to Number 25, standing nonchalantly in left field. His charisma was derived from another number, 711, posted on the centerfield wall, just above Hank Aaron’s 755 career home runs.The damaged knee clearly bothered him, and it was painful to watch him run. Good, some say, maybe he’ll retire and save baseball the embarrassment of having its most famous record---the most hallowed in American sports---held by a man who enhanced his skills by chemical means.
But those detractors weren’t sitting in the stands on Friday night, and everyone cheered lustily when he came to the plate in the third inning with the bases loaded and two out, the Giants trailing 2-0. He rocketed the first pitch to right field, clearing the bases, and limped into second base for a double. The next batter singled, and he gimped home---with two outs he took off on the crack of the bat so he didn’t have to slide—and the game was essentially over with ace Jason Schmidt on the mound. Despite the cold wind that had us shivering by the fifth inning, we stayed until the last pitch. The final score was Giants 10, Diamondbacks 2.He’s vain and aloof. He’s beset by legal and marital troubles of his own making. He achieved spectacular success while allegedly using steroids and is a poor, even dangerous role model for our children. And yet, as he ran the bases or shagged [note to UK readers: this means chasing or jogging after] fly balls in left field, his body hunched in pain, it required the hardest of hearts to be totally unsympathetic. He doesn’t need the money and could instantly put a halt to the boos and physical pain by retiring, but he soldiers on. Here’s hoping he gets to 715. © 2006 Stephen Yuen
Barry Bonds hits a bases-loaded double in the third inning.
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