My Fallen Hero

To most people, Barry Bonds is the representation of everything that is wrong with baseball. He is a player that didn't need to cheat, but did. He had the natural ability to challenge some of the greatest records in the history of the sport, but he instead chose to destroy those records with the help of science. At best, he is a jealous liar; at worst, a soulless opportunist. Barry Bonds IS everything that is wrong with the game. The problem is that for me, he is also everything that is right with the game.

I grew up a San Fransisco Giants fan. I was 10 years old when Barry Bonds signed with the team. I vaguely remember bits and pieces of the Battle of the Bay-Earthquake Series in 1989; but for all intents and purposes, the signing of Bonds is my first recollection of being a Giants fan. And it is a good memory. Bonds instantly became my favorite player. I liked Will Clark and Matt Williams and Jeff Kent (kind of), but they were no Barry Bonds. Giants baseball is in his blood. Bonds began a 12 year tear through the National League, including 5 MVP awards and a heartbreaking loss in the 2002 World Series. To a kid, he was larger than life. I didn't care (and was unaware at the time) that he had a volatile relationship with the press. I didn't, and still don't, care what you thought of him. I loved him. He is why I love baseball.

And he is why you hate baseball.

It's a tough thing to reconcile. When everyone turns on your hero, and you completely understand why, it's hard to know how to feel. Now is a good time to point out that I am not a Bonds apologist. He used steroids. He cheated the game. I do think he should be inducted into the Hall of Fame, but I think the other players from that time should too. Baseball had a Steroid Era. There is no point in trying to deny that or forget that it happened. Bonds may have become the face of that era, but he was far from the only culprit.

My freshman year at the University of Iowa began in 2001. That fall, Barry Bonds ended the season with 73 home runs. On the dry erase board that hung on my dorm room door, I wrote BONDS WATCH and every day I would update his home run total. I distinctly remember the excitement of watching him hit 70-73. One day, I would tell my children about this. If I ever have kids I will tell them about Bonds, but the story will be much different now. It will be a cautionary tale of what happens when you find out baseball players are nothing more than human.

People who are older than I find it easy to look at the Steroid Era and judge those involved. They will tell you that these players should never be allowed in the Hall of Fame. They will say that these players stained the game and aren't worthy of our adoration. These people have real heroes like Willie Mays and Hank Aaron and others who were apparently flawless. My generation doesn't have these heroes. We have Mark McGwire and Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds. These were the players we grew up with. These are the players who made us fall in love with baseball, and these are the players labelled as villains. They may be criminals, but they are our criminals. I didn't choose to fall in love with a cheater. I didn't have a choice.

Baseball is a game you fall in love with as a child, then grow to understand as a man. I don't know how to reconcile my childish love for Bonds and my awareness of his faults as a man. I don't love baseball less because of what I know now. Maybe the game I fell in love with wasn't "real" in your terms, but reality is subjective. For me, and those in my generation, it couldn't have been more real.