BABE RUTH now has company. Who cares? Barry Bonds and his family, of course. The apologetic minions in baseball. The commissioner and his toadies, who are bunkered in their offices, hoping, praying, that Bonds doesn't pass Hank Aaron.
I feel cheated. This should be a grand celebration, not a sad, sordid indictment on the history of the game. Baseball records are ingrained and woven into American history. Yet, what Bonds has done has trivialized and watered down the records that have been passed down from father to son for decades.
For those who say that there is no proof that Bonds has cheated, then let Kenneth Lay be your accountant; let O.J. Simpson date your daughter; let Michael Jackson babysit your children. After all, they have not been proven guilty, either.
Records are made to be broken--by once-in-a-generation players; not inject-me-now players.
Baseball did a nice job of recovering from its strike. This could be potentially more damaging.
It doesn't matter that Bonds is not a cuddly fellow. He's arrogant, distant and false, by all accounts that you read. All stars are that way, have been that way and will continue to be that way. If you're good enough, you can be any kind of person that you want. If you're artificially good enough, then there should be no give--only take, as in stripping the records that have been put up by manufactured means.


