Goodbye, Barry Bonds

Tonight, Barry Bonds plays his last home game as a San Francisco Giant. I wish I could be there to see him. I bet it will be standing room only at AT&T Park¹.

Over the years, I have had a love-hate relationship with Bonds. He has been both a source of pride and shame.

When he came to San Francisco from Pittsburgh in 1992, I idolized him. The best player in the game - the two-time MVP, the son of Bobby Bonds, the godson of the great Willie Mays - had come home and was playing for "my" team. I believed he would be the one to carry the Giants all the way to victory and he very nearly did.

He brought the team close to the World Series four times in his fifteen-year tenure (1993, 1997, 2000, and 2003) and took them the distance once in 2002. That year, they were a mere nine outs away from the title when Dusty Baker took the ball from Russ Ortiz and effectively handed the championship to the Anaheim Angels. It was a heartbreaker. At the time, I wrote, "this was most likely Barry Bonds' first and last chance for a World Series ring". I still believe that's true.

While he has done more than his share to help the team, he has also done his share to hurt it. The suspicion surrounding his possible (some might say probable) steroid use has not only tainted him and everything he has accomplished, but it has tainted everything the team has accomplished, too. That cloud has robbed the fans and the team of a chance to fully celebrate his achievements. Any genuine recognition Bonds receives tonight will come from the fans. The team will do the minimum to appear appreciative, but it will do it only for the sake of appearances.

(There's also the fact that Barry is jerk, but that's small potatoes compared the issue of steroids.)

For fifteen years, Barry Bonds has been the one constant on the Giants. He has become synonymous with San Francisco. He is the last player left from the incredible 1993 team that won 103 games only to come in second place behind the Atlanta Braves. Back then, Bonds was the heart of a lineup that included Will Clark and Matt Williams. John Burkett and Billy Swift were the starters and Rod Beck was the closer. Dusty Baker managed the squad. With Bonds' departure, the last link to that era of Giants baseball is broken.

As a Giant, Bonds leaves a legacy of individual achievements. In the orange and black uniform, he hit 73 home runs in a season, walked 232 times in a season, hit 40 homers and stole 40 bases in a season, and was named MVP five times. He also broke the career home run record.

By the way, No. 756 is now going to Cooperstown with an asterisk on it based on the online poll held by Marc Ecko, the ball's owner. While I understand it's Mr. Ecko's ball to do with as he pleases, it's still disappointing to see him deface a piece of baseball history. I wonder if he'll make the equally classy gesture of taking a leak on the ball before handing it over to the Hall of Fame.

Just as Bonds caused mixed emotions in me these past years, his departure tonight does, too.

On the one hand, I'm glad he is going (relieved is probably a better word). He has had an amazing career, but it's time for him to go. The team has sacrificed a great deal to keep him on the roster. Now they can pursue younger, fresher talent to build a postseason contender.

On the other hand, I'm sad to see somebody who has meant so much to the team leave. If I could have my way, I would have Bonds retire as a Giant. I think it will be a long time before baseballs splash into McCovey Cove with any regularity and it will be even longer before San Francisco sees another player of his caliber. Most of all, I'll just miss seeing him play.

In the Mercury News, Mark Purdy wrote:

No baseball player in history has created as many simultaneous conflicting emotions as Bonds. But at AT&T Park this evening, there are bound to be more goodbyes than good riddances.

I hope there will be.

Goodbye, Barry.

¹ Over the last seven years, the ballpark has had three different names: Pac Bell Park, SBC Park, and AT&T Park. While some have taken to calling it Telephone Park and others refer to it as Mays Field or China Basin (according to Wikipedia), I think they should sell the naming rights to George Lucas and have him name it AT-AT Park. It makes sense for three reasons:

1. It would provide name stability. The name wouldn't be affected by the whims of the latest corporate merger or acquisition. The park would have a name that sticks. Wouldn't that be nice?
2. Lucas' companies, Industrial Light & Magic and LucasArt, are now headquartered at The Presidio, giving him a large presence in San Francisco's northwest corner. By establishing a presence at the stadium, located in the city's southeast corner, he would be balancing things out (or bringing balance to the Force, so to speak).
3. The creative possibilities are so much greater with Lucas than with a telecommunication company. Instead of a giant soda bottle towering above the left field fence, imagine a giant AT-AT standing out there. The playground could be transformed to look like Hoth or Endor. Kids could get their pictures taken in snowspeeders or on speeder bikes. Instead of numbering the sections, they could name them after characters. "Oh, you're in seat 5, row 14, in section Boba Fett." They could sell bats painted as lightsabers. They could have "Hug a Wookie" night. They could dress Jabba the Hut in a Giants uniform. Okay, that might be taking it too far, but you get the idea, and I had better stop before I become disappointed that this vision will never become a reality.