The End of the Chase

This is a long one.

On the night that Barry Bonds hit the 756th home run of his major league career, breaking Henry Aaron's all-time record, The Common Man was asleep. This was not some planned protest of Bonds' alleged doping, nor misguided anger over the fall of baseball's most hallowed mark. Rather, it was a function of the game starting at 10:00 and of The Common Man getting three hours of sleep the night before. The Common Man's absence should not be confused with that of Bud Selig, baseball's commissioner, who refused to celebrate Bonds' record tying home run, and then cravenly left California two nights ago to attend "meetings" regarding former Senator George Mitchell's investigation into steroid use in baseball. Clever, Bud. And subtle.

The sports media (which, at this point, consists almost exclusively of ESPN) has made a great deal over whether Selig and/or Aaron (who are apparently close friends) would be in attendence when Bonds hit his homer, ascribing motives to their decisions ranging from "they believe that the record is tainted and would not want to have to stand and applaud a man that they feel cheated and marred the record books" to "they hate Barry Bonds and all that he stands for, that miserable, lying, cheating, cheater who cheated." This oversimplification obscures the fact that the two men apparently can have very different reasons for not wanting to be there. Hank Aaron, by all accounts, at 73 years old, did not want to spend a couple weeks traipsing up and down the opposite coast from where he lives, following Bonds like a glorified sheep dog.

Of course, the reason so many members of the media wanted Aaron in attendence was so that they could contrast him with Bonds, something that Aaron has seemed to want no part in. As Joe Morgan said yesterday (and The Common Man can't believe that he agrees with anything Morgan says),

"The thing that bothers me is that Hank is getting this adulation because people don't like Barry Bonds. He should have gotten the praise long before this. Hank Aaron was always a great player and it's unfortunate it takes him losing the record to get what he deserves."

Instead, Aaron filmed his reaction to Bonds' historic homer, which was played on the scoreboard during the post-homer celebration. He congratulated Bonds, calling his achievement, "it is a great accomplishment that required skill, longevity, and determination." Classy dude, that Hank Aaron.

Selig, on the other hand (as described by Baseball Prospectus' Joe Sheehan), after Bonds' 755th,

"As the crowd around him cheered, Selig rose slowly from his seat and made a grand show of putting his hands in his pockets, refusing to acknowledge the player, the achievement or even the excitement around him. With that one gesture, Selig made it clear what he is: an old man determined to protect the interests of other old men, even if it means degrading the game of baseball."

Selig has made an art out of bah-humbugging his way through his lengthy "interm" commissionership, largely decrying small market teams' ability to compete as the league (leading to increased revenue sharing, but implanting a feeling of grouchiness in the average fan of Pittsburg, Kansas City, and Minnesota), complaining about watching games in aging stadiums (leading to an explosion of new, taxpayer financed stadiums that do not provide the regional economic boom promised), attempted to contract two franchises (almost forever poisoning the wells of Minneapolis and Montreal as baseball cities) and focusing on players who have "betrayed the national pasttime" through their use of performance enhancing drugs while ignoring his office's decision to turn a blind eye to steroid use and the open, rampant, and possibly ownership-approved use of amphetimines (or greenies) by players. Fearing the outcome of drug testing would reflect poorly on the game, Selig chose not to implement testing policies, nor to address the issue in any way, prior to Jose Canseco's infamous book, Juiced. He fiddled while Rome burned, until the fire that players started could not be put out quickly, quietly, and with minimal damage to the game. And he blames the players, most specifically Barry Bonds for the problem of steroids in the game. For shame. His comment, from Milwaukee, was short. After congratuating Bonds, he reminded everyone that "the issues which have swirled around this record will continue to work themselves toward resolution," implying that the record was dishonestly attained.

It is widely assumed that Bonds cheated to get this record. Indeed, The Common Man thinks that he probably did as well. There is grand jury evidence (illegally leaked) that Bonds took amphetimenes. But there is no evidence, save for circumstantial evidence presented by people with axes to grind and much to gain by a continuing scandal, that Bonds took steroids. So everyone has jumped on the anti-Bonds bandwagon, buying into the media's portrayal of him as a steroid-inflated Hulk, arguing that "everyone knows" he took them. After all, look at who he hung out with! Look at the size of his head! Look, he's gotten bigger as he's gotten older (as though everyone (The Common Man included) hasn't gotten a little thicker as they've gotten older). There's so much smoke there must be fire.

But prior to invading Iraq, everyone in this country (and, indeed, around the globe) just knew that Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction hidden in bunkers around Iraq. Colin Powell went to the U.N. He brought pictures. There was circumstantial and second-hand evidence that Iraq was trying to buy uranium. Hussein was a bad guy who hung out with bad guys. Of course he had WMDs stashed away somewhere. Anyway, the coalition of the willing has had a hard time finding those things that everyone (The Common Man included, even though he didn't like the war from the first shock to the last awe) knew just had to be there.

Fortunately, like Aaron, The Common Man believes that the majority of sports fans (and Americans) have better things to do than to excoriate a man whose greatest known crime is that he's sometimes a jerk to reporters. Hell, Ruth ran around on his wife, screwed anything that moved, was alternately generous and lousy to teammates, and ate himself out of effectiveness. Mantle drank himself to an early grave. So did Jimmie Foxx. Ty Cobb was a rabid dog who hated anything black, Jewish, or, frankly, alive. Steve Garvey has, like, a billion kids with half a billion women. Roger Maris was from North Dakota. Surely, these are worse crimes by far, and this country has fallen all over itself to romanticize those men and their accomplishments. And, true to form, a majority of fans in San Diego that night acquitted themselves well. Again, Joe Sheehan:

They respect Bonds’ talent and accomplishments, while feeling little warmth towards the man. They vote him onto the All-Star team. They acknowledge the questions that surround his involvement with BALCO, the suspicions that he used steroids, while also acknowledging the points in his favor–that he’s never failed a drug test; that the testing program MLB claimed to need so desperately has turned up mostly dry; that the investigation into Bonds’ behavior has dragged on for years with no resolution, taking on a tinge of “witch hunt;” that the book that so famously chronicled his activities was sourced by illegally-obtained testimony and by those with axes to grind; that Bonds’ image has been shaped by the media, and it is impossible to separate this story from that process.

The great middle ground of baseball fans doesn’t hate Barry Bonds. It doesn’t know him, and it hasn’t made up his mind about what he did and did not do. In the absence of that decision, the crowd at Petco Park last night did the right thing: it cheered the accomplishment, while holding back judgment on the man. It was a good moment for the game, and San Diego’s baseball fans can be proud of themselves today."

Would that baseball's commissioner could say the same thing. Screw you, Bud.

As for you, Barry. Congratulations. Enjoy your record until ARod gets around to breaking it in seven years.