Barry Bonds: My Fallen Hero

Last week, as we all know, Barry Bonds broke Hank Aaron’s longstanding career home run record when he blasted his 756th longball 435 feet over the right-center field fence.

I realize this isn’t the timeliest response to such a historic event. Aaron’s mark of 755 career homeruns had endured for 33 years. Barry Bonds has already become an infamous public figure, whether for his mind-boggling athletic feats (73 home runs in a single season), his alleged steroid use, or his tempestuous relationship with the media, teammates and fans. In reality, this story was a big deal. And yet it has taken me a week to respond.

To be honest, I still don’t know how I feel about it. The truth is that Barry Bonds was my hero. Back when Barry Bonds was batting .330, hitting 30 home runs, stealing 30 bases, and winning Gold Gloves I looked up to him as everything baseball could be. He was, in my eyes, the prototype of the complete player.

When he was traded to the San Francisco Giants, they quickly became my favorite team. I followed every player, from Matt Williams to Will Clark. From John Burkett to Rod Beck (RIP). I saved my money to buy a San Francisco fitted hat. When it became dirty and faded from overuse, I bought another one. I used my remaining cash to buy Barry Bonds baseball cards (I still have an impressive collection). My best friend even got the San Fran logo shaved into the back of his head.

And when the media went after him, saying he was a pompous ass, that he was a terrible teammate and he was degrading to his fans, I defended him. I truly believed he was misunderstood, that he was just a private person and that he was uncomfortable with all the attention.

I still think he’s misunderstood, but at the time I didn’t understand him either. The truth is, Barry Bonds is a child. Maybe it’s because his father, former major leaguer Bobby Bonds, was virtually absent as young Barry grew up, and as a result he never matured into a man. Maybe it’s because he lived a life of privilege. He was always so naturally gifted that everything he ever wanted was handed to him.

Whatever the reason, Barry Bonds is an insecure, immature child. According to longtime girlfriend Kimberly Bell, this is the reason he started using steroids in the first place. His jealousy of Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa as they pursued the single season home run record in ’98 led him to jeopardize his career and his life for a taste of that spotlight. He had won multiple league MVP awards, even more Gold Gloves. He was one of baseball’s highest paid players. Opposing pitchers feared him and he was a future first ballot Hall of Famer. But it wasn’t good enough.

When the allegations of steroid use first surfaced, I defended Bonds as I always had. I maintained that it was a new workout regimen that led to the increased bulk and spike in homerun production. But eventually the delusions wore off, and I now see him for the cheater that he is.

Barry Bonds stole my childhood. I have no idol I can turn to; no role model I grew up with that I can nostalgically remember as a representative of better times. I can never say to my children “let me tell you about a time when baseball players were real American heroes.” For all the records he holds, my favorite baseball player has become a disgrace.

I’m tired of being angry at Barry Bonds. What’s done is done, and my disillusionment has sunk into apathy.

Congratulations, Barry, on your awe-inspiring achievement. But if anybody asks, my favorite player was Darryl Strawberry. At least he was honest about his drug problem.

Thanks for reading.