Kuzul

Dear Barry,

I can now say it with a clear conscience: you’re a BUM, Mr. Bonds. I know, I know, you’ll probably tell me that there’s been no conviction yet and that the perjury/obstruction charges you now face are STILL bogus; after all, you’re Barry Lamar Bonds—home run king, big-shot.

You surmised that constant denial would make the steroid allegations go away; after all, the feds had never played “hardball” with a sports figure as big as you. I hate to break the news to you, Barry: facing a federal indictment is just a tad tougher than facing those big league pitchers whose ERAs you helped to inflate.

You took for granted that the American public’s thirst for heroes would simply allow you to cheat your way to legendary status, and you’d walk away unscathed. Well, you DID become a “legend,” Barry—I’ll give you that. But as the feds now tighten their grip, was it really worth it?

C’mon, Barry, were we NOT supposed to notice? Physically, your head AND body ballooned like current gas prices once the new millennium arrived. Your surliness multiplied, too, once people began to notice your physical appearance change from a lean, talented outfielder to a blown-up, chemically-changed freak.

Did you think that we’d ALL chalk that up to good nourishment, flaxseed oil, and working out just a “little” more than usual? Geez, Barry, you insulted SO many of us with your assumptions, the main one being that you mistakenly grouped tons of us outsiders with your clueless, inner-circle of supporters in terms of intelligence.

And were we NOT supposed to notice when your home run totals rose significantly after 2000—and simply chalk that up to an unknown phenomenon that renders better eyesight and reflexes after the age of 35? Shame on you, Barry.

Here’s what puzzles me, Barry: you were ALREADY well on your way to Cooperstown and immortality during the 90s—hitting tons of homers, driving in 100 runs every year and collecting Gold Gloves as if they were $100 Picasso masterpieces.

Why, Barry,WHY? WHY did you feel the need to go the illegal route and try to increase numbers that were ALREADY staggering? Tell me, Barry, was it the money? Did you think that you WOULDN’T become a rich man if you continued to play by the rules? Oh, now I think I know the real deal. I guess you wanted to be FILTHY rich and feed an ego that was bigger than San Francisco Bay.

And it surely seems that you were willing to do it at ANY cost, Barry—even so far as to have possibly used trenbolone, a steroid used to improve the muscle quality of cattle. I dunno, Barry, maybe when you brought your selfish, drug-induced freak show to cities throughout the league, fans should have yelled “MOOOO” instead of “BOOOO.”

You should have NEVER let it come to this, Barry; a few of us already KNEW there was a steroid problem in baseball even before the late Ken Caminiti was ridiculed as being “delusional” after bringing attention to it in that famed SI article. You could have come clean AWHILE ago and gone down in history as a player who bravely tried to clean up the sport.

Sure, the union would have hated you, Barry, but the American public would have embraced you. Remember one thing, Barry: Americans are a very forgiving bunch, but you surely went past the line when you insulted us along the way.

Shame on you, “Bar-roid” (thanks Steve Somers) for letting your former personal trainer, Greg Anderson, rot in the “big house” for more than a year while you bathed in accolades, kept the “denial machine” rolling, and partied it up along the lines of a fellow athlete-turned-criminal named Simpson.

I can only guess that your conscience exited your body at some point due to the influx of some strong, nasty substances, ones a bit stronger than just the “cream” and the “clear.”

Finally, you’re a BUM, Barry, for having sent the following message to youngsters throughout the land: It’s O.K. to compromise your body and break the rules because ‘roids rule; ‘roids will make you famous, rich, and help you do the extraordinary.

Therein lies your biggest crime, Mr. Bonds, the naive kids and fellow pro players out there who’ve followed suit simply “because Barry did it.” Speaking of kids, what about your OWN children, Barry? Will they be proud that their Dad made a mockery of the American pastime—that he cheated for some sick, egotistical reason that may someday bring THEM negative attention?

Barry, did it ever occur to you that your kids might need a terrific role model as THEY continue to mature, and NOT a Dad who soon may be playing left field for the prison team at Terminal Island? Tell me, Barry, seriously, will you someday tell your own kids that it’s O.K. to cheat, do drugs, and break the law? Please say no.

Don’t worry—you won’t do 30 years, Barry; we all must remember that you have no prior convictions. But your ego got in the way—and you’ll soon pay. You’re no home run king, “Bar-roid”, just the “Sultan of SQUAT” in my book.

Shame on you for tainting the game that I once LOVED (past tense). Perhaps the prison warden will have a sense of humor and put an asterisk on the back of your prison garb while you show your muscles off in front of adoring convicts. Just remember, Barry: it DIDN’T have to be this way. Shame on you.

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