PHILADELPHIA – Imagine this place being a last bastion of sporting decency.
The fences have been moved back at Citizens Bank Park to put more value into the home run, whatever is left of it now that Barry Bonds is three blasts away from becoming its second-all-time practitioner.
And, as Bonds drops in for three games, a town that has maintained the gold standard of booing is hardly disappointing, the fans enthusiastically and magnanimously cheering his every out in an attempt to deny themselves the once-in-alifetime opportunity to witness history.
Sadly, there is only so much they can do. Bonds leaves here tonight for adoring, denying San Francisco, where before a week-long homestand is out, he probably will have hit No. 715 and passed Babe Ruth.
Because only the good die young, by next year Bonds will hit No. 756 and break Hank Aaron’s record, too, even if a bad knee (caused by steroid abuse we can only hope) has him on crutches or a perjury indictment has him swinging in handcuffs.
It’s likely too late to stop him, just like it is for baseball to go back and test Sammy Sosa, Mark McGwire and pitchers who served them, too. Sick as it is, the playing field has probably been more level than we really want to acknowledge, the advantage in Bonds’ allegedly-juiced body no more than that enjoyed by Ruth, who was obliterating records with a new, juiced ball.
It is necessary for baseball to test and punish, of course. But merely the naive believe that the only Olympic cheats have been the ones who have gotten themselves caught and that baseball has now rid itself of further embarrassment.
The bad chemists have always had a walking lead on the good chemists. If you closely follow instructions on the calendar, you probably will sail through, barring the misfortune of having your name found in records of a raided performanceenhancing den.
That’s not to say that an investigation, albeit one run by a Red Sox owner, not an independent gumshoe, is worthless. Even if this turns out to be for show, a show is what baseball is, with appearances above all to protect. In the real world justice system, prosecutors don’t offer intentional walks out of fear of double standards. They don’t have enough evidence to nail all the guilty, so they go after those they can convict and hope to send a message to the rest.
Better late than never.
And better that Bonds passes Ruth and Aaron sooner, rather than later, with minimal recognition by Major League Baseball, so that he can disappear in the disgrace he has earned.
Nobody outside San Francisco will celebrate an accomplishment gained so nefariously as to become worthless.
That’s a shame for a hallowed record and the game itself, which can only thank its blinder-wearing leadership for the dilemma.
But the Phillies, whose attendance is down, sold out the weekend, the fans flocking to the opportunity to vent their moral outrage. While unfortunately that puts money in Bonds’ pocket, there is something at least slightly cleansing in the joy of despising him.
Baseball is more popular than ever, despite widespread acknowledgement of an era of cheating. If there were 5,000 persons last night at Citizens Bank Park when Bonds came to town two home runs shy of Ruth, the game would have a more devastating problem than just having to holding its nose while a cheat was being compared to two of the game’s greatest legends. At least he was reviving memories of them.
