I Hate Everything About You
I never thought it would happen, so I wasn't exactly sure how I'd feel, but now that B*rry B*nds has passed Babe Ruth for second place on baseball's all-time homerun list, I can say I'm genuinely angry.
First of all, Bonds has cheated the game I love so much. Baseball was the first sport I ever remember watching with my dad, despite the fact that he was a bigger basketball fan at the time. In the fall of 1986, he let me stay up to watch the Boston Red Sox and New York Mets in the World Series, even though any sane parent would have told their seven-year old son it was too late and he needed to go to bed. While other kids were reading about dinosaurs and big trucks, I'd always get the baseball biographys at the library, learning to read on the history of Willie Mays, Jackie Robinson, Joe DiMaggio and Babe Ruth.
When Black History Month would roll around in school and we had to do a report on famous African-Americans, I would always pick Jackie Robinson. For Georgia History, while other students were picking Jimmy Carter or some other famous Georgian (and the fact that I can't think of one right now is not a ringing endorsement of the Georgia public school system), I was doing reports on the Georgia Peach, Ty Cobb.
Heck, when I was seven or eight, my mom told me to pick out wall paper for my room that I'd like 10 years later. I picked the wall paper with the logos of all the baseball teams on it for my room. Even though some of the logos had changed and there were new teams added, when I graduated high school, I still liked the wall paper I'd chosen a decade earlier.
When the players went out on strike in 1994, I swore I'd never go to another game again, but that was a bold-faced lie. It was too late by then. The game was in my blood. Sure, I was upset with the players for taking the World Series from me that year and basically forcing the executives at SportsCenter to fill an hour-episode with golf highlights and NASCAR, but deep down, I knew I'd be back. I can't help it.
I remember the first time I'd ever cried over a sporting event, in 1998 when the Cubs made their improbable run to the playoffs only to get swept by Atlanta. (Looking back, that was the year Sammy Sosa hit 66 home runs and I believe now he was juicing. But at the time, I didn't think twice about it. People far more intellegent than myself - which includes all of you reading - never suggested there was anything unnatural about Sosa, so why should I?)
In 2003, Yes Dear all but forced me to go to the Cubs/Braves playoff game in Atlanta, even though we couldn't afford it at the time. She knew how much the Cubs (and baseball) meant to me and she was going to make sure I had a chance to see the Cubs in the playoffs.
All this brings me back to B*nds. Today (well, by the time I finish this post it will be yesterday, but let's not argue semantics here), B*nds moved into second place in the greatest sports statistic in America. Ask a basketball fan how many points the second all-time leading scorer has and you'll likely get a blank stare. Ask a baseball fan what the number 714 means and immediatly they could tell you it was Babe Ruth's home run total.
Baseball stats mean something to people. They connect generations. Fathers and sons arguing whether Tom Seaver or Greg Maddux was a better pitcher, each finding the numbers to back up their position.
But now, B*nds has tainted that. Every player playing now is under suspicion of steriod use, even if there is no evidence to indicate he's using. Albert Pujols is in the midst of one of the best seasons baseball has ever seen, but in every conversation, someone utters the "yeah, but is he using?" question. Nevermind the fact that his body hasn't changed since he entered the league five years ago, that doesn't matter. What maters is that he's playing at the same time as B*nds (and Giambi and others) who have used steriods.
(And please don't give me the "well, B*rry's never tested positive so that proves he's clean. I've never been cited for speeding, but that doesn't mean I haven't - (Note to any law enforcement officers reading this, the previous "admission of guilt" is purely hypothetical.))
As expected, the fans in San Francisco cheered their hero. But around the rest of the country, we see B*nds for what he is, a cheater who has stolen a part of the game from the fans.
Even Yes Dear, who only became baseball fan in the last two years, is upset that B*nds passed Ruth. For the past three weeks, she's been yelling at the television to have the pitchers throw at B*nds head so he couldn't break Ruth's mark. I have to admit, I'm proud of her for trying to protect the sanctity of the game.
And yes, we'll move on to the next big controversy and finally get past B*rry B*nds soon, but one day in the future, my son is going to ask me about B*nds, and I'm going to have to explain to a little boy of seven years old why a man with immense natural talent felt the need to steal my childhood innocence by using performance enhancing drugs.
On Deck: I promise I'll get to the game that you and your significant other will play for hours on end, but the whole Barry Bonds thing was on my mind. Hope you had/have a great Memorial Day. Thanks for reading.
First of all, Bonds has cheated the game I love so much. Baseball was the first sport I ever remember watching with my dad, despite the fact that he was a bigger basketball fan at the time. In the fall of 1986, he let me stay up to watch the Boston Red Sox and New York Mets in the World Series, even though any sane parent would have told their seven-year old son it was too late and he needed to go to bed. While other kids were reading about dinosaurs and big trucks, I'd always get the baseball biographys at the library, learning to read on the history of Willie Mays, Jackie Robinson, Joe DiMaggio and Babe Ruth.
When Black History Month would roll around in school and we had to do a report on famous African-Americans, I would always pick Jackie Robinson. For Georgia History, while other students were picking Jimmy Carter or some other famous Georgian (and the fact that I can't think of one right now is not a ringing endorsement of the Georgia public school system), I was doing reports on the Georgia Peach, Ty Cobb.
Heck, when I was seven or eight, my mom told me to pick out wall paper for my room that I'd like 10 years later. I picked the wall paper with the logos of all the baseball teams on it for my room. Even though some of the logos had changed and there were new teams added, when I graduated high school, I still liked the wall paper I'd chosen a decade earlier.
When the players went out on strike in 1994, I swore I'd never go to another game again, but that was a bold-faced lie. It was too late by then. The game was in my blood. Sure, I was upset with the players for taking the World Series from me that year and basically forcing the executives at SportsCenter to fill an hour-episode with golf highlights and NASCAR, but deep down, I knew I'd be back. I can't help it.
I remember the first time I'd ever cried over a sporting event, in 1998 when the Cubs made their improbable run to the playoffs only to get swept by Atlanta. (Looking back, that was the year Sammy Sosa hit 66 home runs and I believe now he was juicing. But at the time, I didn't think twice about it. People far more intellegent than myself - which includes all of you reading - never suggested there was anything unnatural about Sosa, so why should I?)
In 2003, Yes Dear all but forced me to go to the Cubs/Braves playoff game in Atlanta, even though we couldn't afford it at the time. She knew how much the Cubs (and baseball) meant to me and she was going to make sure I had a chance to see the Cubs in the playoffs.
All this brings me back to B*nds. Today (well, by the time I finish this post it will be yesterday, but let's not argue semantics here), B*nds moved into second place in the greatest sports statistic in America. Ask a basketball fan how many points the second all-time leading scorer has and you'll likely get a blank stare. Ask a baseball fan what the number 714 means and immediatly they could tell you it was Babe Ruth's home run total.
Baseball stats mean something to people. They connect generations. Fathers and sons arguing whether Tom Seaver or Greg Maddux was a better pitcher, each finding the numbers to back up their position.
But now, B*nds has tainted that. Every player playing now is under suspicion of steriod use, even if there is no evidence to indicate he's using. Albert Pujols is in the midst of one of the best seasons baseball has ever seen, but in every conversation, someone utters the "yeah, but is he using?" question. Nevermind the fact that his body hasn't changed since he entered the league five years ago, that doesn't matter. What maters is that he's playing at the same time as B*nds (and Giambi and others) who have used steriods.
(And please don't give me the "well, B*rry's never tested positive so that proves he's clean. I've never been cited for speeding, but that doesn't mean I haven't - (Note to any law enforcement officers reading this, the previous "admission of guilt" is purely hypothetical.))
As expected, the fans in San Francisco cheered their hero. But around the rest of the country, we see B*nds for what he is, a cheater who has stolen a part of the game from the fans.
Even Yes Dear, who only became baseball fan in the last two years, is upset that B*nds passed Ruth. For the past three weeks, she's been yelling at the television to have the pitchers throw at B*nds head so he couldn't break Ruth's mark. I have to admit, I'm proud of her for trying to protect the sanctity of the game.
And yes, we'll move on to the next big controversy and finally get past B*rry B*nds soon, but one day in the future, my son is going to ask me about B*nds, and I'm going to have to explain to a little boy of seven years old why a man with immense natural talent felt the need to steal my childhood innocence by using performance enhancing drugs.
On Deck: I promise I'll get to the game that you and your significant other will play for hours on end, but the whole Barry Bonds thing was on my mind. Hope you had/have a great Memorial Day. Thanks for reading.
posted by Luke at 11:53 PM
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