The Disgrace that is Barry Bonds

Recent events have necessitated an early return from the summer recess to award another Slap O’ Sense Award.
Today’s honoree is anyone, anywhere at any time who has ever applauded Barry Bonds.
You pinheads.
I love the game. I have always loved the game.
Over the years, I have seen some of the best who have ever played the game. I saw Johnny Bench catch. I saw Ozzie Smith do his back flip at shortstop. I saw Goose Gossage pitch. I saw Dave Winfield back when he was in that butt-ugly uniform the San Diego Padres gave him, #31.
I was sitting in the stands in Dodger Stadium when Reggie Jackson hit two home runs in a World Series game.
I saw the lean years of my San Diego Padres. Actually, most of their years have been lean. But I was there in 1984 when they beat the Chicago Cubs on a Sunday afternoon that sent them to their first World Series ever.
I also saw Pete Rose play. But Pete Rose is not in The Baseball Hall of Fame. He will never be in The Hall. Because Pete Rose broke the rules, his 4,256 hits are worthless.
But who is in The Baseball Hall of Fame? They’re not all angels. They’re flawed. They had their personal issues and demons to battle. But for the most part, they are there because they loved the game. Most of them would have probably played for free.
For example, look at the most recent inductees: Cal Ripkin, Jr. and Tony Gwynn.
Both gentlemen stayed with their original teams for their entire careers. Both men were pillars of their respective communities. There was never the slightest taint to any of their accomplishments. These humble men took the talent the good Lord gave them and then honed their natural abilities until they were razor sharp. And it showed.
I went to college with Tony Gwynn. When he received contract offers from both the NBA Clippers and MLB Padres, we thought he would play basketball. To be honest, he wasn’t all that great a baseball player. Yet.
He chose baseball and then he chose to make himself the best player he could be. He was one of the first players to really use video. He studied his swing and improved it to win eight batting titles. He worked on his fielding, his one weak spot if he had one, and was rewarded with five Golden Gloves. He is Mr. Padre and the people of San Diego are justifiably so proud of him, they could weep as one.
And then there is Barry Bonds.
Yes, he has natural ability. Hand-eye coordination cannot be taught and coming from the baseball family that he did, he knew what was required to play the game.
But he cheats.
I know you can bulk up on your own using weights. I know you can alter your diet to be a more effective athlete. But using drugs, of any kind and in any form, to improve one’s performance is a slap in the face of all who truly love the game.
If you have any doubt whatsoever that Barry Bonds uses steroids, look at a photo of him when he was a rookie with the Pittsburgh Pirates. Look at his head. Notice the size.
The human head does not really change its size too much over a lifetime. Once you are past puberty, you’re not going to change your hat size or get any taller. That is, if you’re human.
If you’re a chemically-enhanced freak, however, those rules no longer apply.
The bulbous pumpkin currently residing on top of Barry Bonds’ shoulders would make Ichabod Crane swoon. It is really all the proof one needs.
I know there are other players who also use steroids, too. They are cheaters, too. They should all be permanently banned from playing and they deserve all of the health consequences that they will suffer because of their substance abuse.
But to have Barry Bonds even mentioned in the same category as a gentleman such as Hank Aaron is just wrong. An asterisk after the number is not enough. The damage that Barry Bonds has done to the wonderful game of baseball should result in his being removed from all of the records and he should be permanently ineligible to enter The Baseball Hall of Fame.
He’s a disgrace.