If you look closely at my photo directly above, you can see that my hat features the silhouetted batter representative of major league baseball. On the other side of that cap — my daily headwear of choice for the past three years — lies an orange, intertwined “SF” representative of my favorite professional sports team.
Ever since the summer of 2000 — when I had season tickets in the right field “Splash Landing” bleachers of brand-new Pac Bell Park (these were the good old days, when this San Francisco ballfield’s name just rolled off your tongue) — the Giants have held a place in my heart that I thought was reserved for only NHL ’94 (the Genesis classic) or a fresh pepperoni-and-black-olive pizza.
So after the San Francisco Chronicle broke the story that claimed Barry Bonds admitted to a grand jury that he unknowingly took steroids, my friends were convinced that I would have to be under suicide watch for a few weeks. But, I quickly convinced them that they didn’t have to seize my belt and shoelaces. While the Chronicle’s scoop created a national media frenzy (something so big, it managed to finally bring an end to TV’s overcooked “basketbrawl” coverage), I knew that this breaking story hadn’t really changed anything, for Bonds or for myself.
Barry, I’m sticking with you.
This admission of steroid use has many folks discussing the long-term implications for Bonds. One of the big questions that talking heads continue to debate is whether this confession will cause Bonds’s name to feature an asterisk in the record books. But in my judgment, the name already held an asterisk mystique long before this story.
Although Bonds is innocent of intentional steroid usage by courtroom standards, he’s been guilty in the court of public opinion for many years.
Like his bulk, Bonds’s steroid rumors have increased every year since he joined the Giants in 1993. But the grumblings vastly increased at the end of the 2001 season. At the age of 36, Bonds — who had never hit more than 49 home runs — belted a record-setting 73 four-baggers. While Mark McGwire’s home run chase in 1998 was one of the most celebrated runs in sports history, Bonds received exponentially less attention when he set the mark three years later. And much of the minimal attention Bonds gathered was laced with a steroid buzz. Then, in September 2003, federal investigators searched the home of Greg Anderson — Bonds’s personal trainer — and raided BALCO Laboratories, taking financial and medical records.
At this point in time, Bonds became guilty by association. The national public, which definitely had never embraced Bonds because of his arrogant antics, rallied around these accusations with an “I-told-you-so” mentality. The uproar caused by these federal inquiries was enough to mar Bonds’s unbelievable career. Whether a star-shaped figure joins Bonds in the record book or not, one of the games greatest players of all time contracted a lifelong stigma from the national standpoint after this September raid.
Last week’s story didn’t have much affect on No. 25; nationally, Bonds was looked upon with a disgraceful eye and pinned as a steroid user long before.
I’ve supported Bonds the entire way. Dismiss me as a mindless homer if you’d like. But first, put yourself in my shoes.
I’m a diehard Giants fan. So for me, every lazy summer day is defined by how the boys in black and orange fare. And if you haven’t noticed in the last four years (during which Barry has won four of his record seven MVP awards), Bonds is the Giants. These eyes have never seen a player dominate a baseball game like Bonds. I’ve argued many times that Barry Bonds is the most dominant athlete of my era. (Yes, my era includes Michael Jordan and Wayne Gretzky.) So, if I were going to dismiss Bonds as a steroid user, and therefore root against him, I’d be rooting for my Giants to lose at least 120 games. And, while Bonds doesn’t top my list of favorite athletes, I look back upon the time I’ve spent watching him with unparalleled joy.
So, even with these new developments, I’ll continue to take the same approach toward Bonds that I’ve taken since the steroid rumors first surfaced.
I must believe.
I must believe that Barry wouldn’t knowingly disgrace one of baseball’s most prominent families. (His father, Bobby, was a three-time All-Star, and his godfather, Willie Mays, is arguably the greatest center fielder ever.) I must believe that, like he said in front of a grand jury in 2003 according to the Chronicle, Barry unknowingly took steroids for a short amount of time, and they didn’t have an effect on him. I must believe that the player who I have always believed to be superhuman is not artificially … well … superhuman. I must believe that all of the Giants’ accomplishments since 2000 (when I really began living and dying with the team’s exploits) are completely pure.
And this is nothing new to me.
For Barry and me, last week’s headlines didn’t alter our livelihood too much. We’ve been dealing with this steroids issue for much longer than five days.
So we’ll both continue to deny his known steroid use, and I’ll keep my belt and shoelaces.
Gennaro Filice can be reached at gfilice@umich.edu.