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Friday, Nov 27, 2009
Or: How one Giants fan learned to stop worrying and love Barry Bonds, just in time to appreciate his 500th home run.
Apr 18, 2001 | If timing is a test of greatness, the way Barry Bonds timed his 500th career home run Tuesday night -- an eighth-inning, game-winning, two-run shot into the waters of McCovey Cove to win the San Francisco Giants' first home game in almost two weeks, against the arch-rival Los Angeles Dodgers -- should shut down what minimal debate may still exist about his greatness.
Since spring training I've assumed this is Bonds' last season in a Giants uniform -- it's hard to imagine this scrappy mid-payroll team paying superstar dollars to a 37-year-old outfielder -- and his likely departure has served to concentrate the mind. I savor every at-bat: the otherworldly glower out at the pitcher, and back at the ump after a bad call; the menacing twitch of the bat over his left shoulder; the blur of his swing, that devastating, gorgeous swing.
I've always liked Bonds, but a couple of years ago I made it a point to love him: I'd hate myself later in life if I'd had the luck to root for a team whose star was the undisputed player of the decade, but I didn't give it up for him because ... well ... you know ... he doesn't run out a lot of ground balls, he's not really a clubhouse "leader," and he's rarely nice to the media. All true, but beside the point. I give it up for Bonds now, every chance I get, and I'm much happier because of it.
But never more than his fourth time up Tuesday night, in front of the largest crowd in the short history of Pacific Bell Park. We've seen a humble, uncertain Barry on the march to become the 17th player in major league history (and the fourth Giant) to hit 500 home runs. He came into the season with 494, and immediately hit one on Opening Day -- the third straight Opening Day he's homered -- but then he fell into a slump.
Bonds has never been Mr. October -- he routinely tanks in the playoffs -- but he's usually dynamite in April and May. After the first three-game homestand, though, he folded, coming within an at-bat of matching the longest slump of his career, going 0-for-21 on a trip through Los Angeles and San Diego. Manager Dusty Baker sat him in a game against the Padres last week, and ever since, Bonds has been on fire. He's hit five home runs in five games, including his historic shot Tuesday night.
Everyone said he wanted to hit No. 500 at home, in front of his friends and family, and his fans. I've watched Barry for a long time, and I could see it going a lot of ways. I thought he'd either hit it in his first at-bat Tuesday night; or not for days, maybe even a week. Bonds himself owned up to "stage fright" over the impending feat, in remarks to the San Francisco Chronicle that were kind of maddening, kind of endearing: "It's hard to explain the feeling that you go through. It's like you never dreamt you'd be in a position to do certain things in your life and your career. You never thought it was possible or reachable. The next thing you find out, you're knocking on the door and you're a little bit nervous. You find you're on center stage. You're out there by yourself alone.
"Now I've probably figured out why I don't hit in the playoffs. The spotlight. It's tough."
