Mark Bossingham

Barry, meet the Babe

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.

UPDATE – Crazy Noise

WHEW, ALMOST didn't get this month's Crazy Noise installment in before June. Busy with a new bike. Did a trial ride to my office yesterday. With the benefit of a new bridge across the river, only takes 25 minutes--and I wasn't hurrying. Great view of the bay once you manage to crawl to the top of the bridge.
    Anyway, this month's chapter is quite cool. May and Helen perform at the new club's opening night in front of an audience of mostly neighbors. Nice. But he never-nice Nakazono enlists a yakuza wannabe bosozoku punk to try to intimidate Sam and friends into selling their home.
    However, if you bought the book, you already know that. Get 'em while their hot. If you live in Japan, go to Amazon.co.jp. If you live in the States ... well, you know the drill.

When is enough enough?

OK, SO you have your Barry Bonds lovers and haters, detractors and defenders. People say "Why is everyone focusing on Bonds?"

Because of the record, stupid.

If Bonds were not approaching Babe Ruth's mark, then he would be lumped into the category with Gary Sheffield and Jason Giambi. The fact that Bonds is approaching the "Great Babe" is reason for consternation for many baseball fans.

However, baseball purists alone should not be concerned. As one national columnist opined recently, it should be the parents of future baseball players that should be alarmed. If baseball and its fans fete Bonds for his home run record, what message does that send? That it's OK to use performance-enhancing drugs, because people cheer for him?

Why has no one come out and called Bonds a cheater (save for Philadelphia pitcher Corey Lidle)? Yes, there is no direct evidence, though according to grand jury testimony, Bonds admitted to using "cream" and "clear" though he claimed he wasn't aware of what the substances were.

If, for example, a salesman landed a multi-million dollar contract, though it was alleged that he/she bribed folks to get the deal, would that be OK as long as he/she were not caught? If a journalist won a Pulitzer Prize for reporting, though later drunkenly confessed to a colleague that he/she made up the quotes and facts for the story, is that fine?

Sheffield, Giambi, Bonds and the others should be punished for their transgressions. Is a record or great performance really worthy if someone is hopped up on horse juice?

Everyone should be judged as equals. And do not let Bonds' pitiful tales of racists wanting to bring him down distract us -- in my opinion this is just a blatant attempt to gain sympathy. Ask Hank Aaron, who truly faced racists what it is like to pursue a hallowed record. Bonds grew up affluent and most likely never had the struggles that his father, Bobby, and godfather, Willie Mays, had to deal with. This is a complete slap in the face of people who have actually faced racism. This is a sham on the part of Bonds and should not be given credence.

Nagano

I'M NOT normally a flower person, but we drove up to Nagano a couple of weeks ago for a bit of R&R from Tokyo. Just getting out of the city seemed liked the never ending journey—jeez, just how big is Nerima-ku? But eventually we hit the highway and the countryside. Farms with their tiny quarter-acre fields patched in among other owners' terraced vines and rock quarries. Many tunnels and no people.
    Not so long ago, young people left the inaka (country) and moved to the city for excitement and better opportunities—now they have no choice. The villages are dying off—pretty much only old people remain.
    Our destination was a spa in Tateshina, Nagano-ken. Nice. Relatively inexpensive, and complements of "Chef Ando," they served one of the best dinners I have had in Japan. I've eaten in many of the better restaurants in Tokyo, so that's no small praise.
    We were also able to rent (for a bargain ¥1,500 yen) a spacious personal furo-sauna area for two. The public space was nice, but this was great.
    The next day we drove to Obuse, billed as an Edo Period town. Much the tourist trap, with some restored buildings and a lot of shops selling rice crackers and chestnut products. If you see a shop selling German apple pies, go for it. The woman running the place speaks English and German. Quite the hard sell, she was a bit of a pest, but her pies were authentically delicious.
    One cool touch—we were able to actually walk through people's backyards. Apparently the village elders have a "My Garden" thing going whereby families leave their back gate open and tourists stroll through. I was skeptical, but my wife seemed to think we were really in people's yards. Didn't see anybody, though.
    Outside of town is a mid-sized temple. Nagano was cooler than Tokyo and we were there right as the sakura were in full bloom. Never really paid much attention before, but out timing was perfect—the trees looked like they were covered with snowballs.