SI: Bonds used steroids "in virtually every conceivable form" - Page 2

Originally Posted by Matt Goldberg

How much evidence does there have to be that Bonds cheated in order to revoke his records?

Originally Posted by JohnShade

No offense, but Clemens just posted a full season ERA a full run lower than every other pitcher in baseball, and he's like 45. That's not ups and downs, that's suspicious, and Nolan Ryan never did anything like that.

And to the guy saying "times have changed" in reference to the handling of the Black Sox, no they haven't. Pete Rose was fairly recent and proved that times haven't changed in baseball. Whether or not anyone outside it does, baseball considers itself sacred, and takes itself very seriously.

Originally Posted by Giant distraction
Tom Verducci, SI.com

So this is how the great chase of Babe Ruth and Hank Aaron plays out, wholly without grace. An event to be mocked. A celebration of the absurd rather than of sporting achievement. An embarrassment for baseball and a burden for the Giants. Syringes on the field. Double entendres in the stands. Investigators wading into the muck. The class act Vin Scully telling the Los Angeles Times he hopes he's not unlucky enough to have to call home run number 756.

Consider what happened Monday evening in San Diego. In his first game since being catalogued by the book Game of Shadows as a serial steroid user and effectively being placed under investigation by the office of the commissioner, Barry Bonds was Tonya Harding. A punch line. An object of ridicule. His teammate Omar Vizquel said that Bonds was heckled by children, for goodness sake, during batting practice.

"Today it was kind of bad,'' Vizquel said.

Oh, that was just a start. Fans littered the stands with placards that questioned everything about Bonds, from the legitimacy of his records to the size of his head and genitalia. A reporter asked Bonds quite seriously if the syringe thrown near him on the field had a needle. Giants staffers were in full panic mode trying to tamp down the brush fire of questions to players about all things Bonds, and a weariness had already settled over the clubhouse about this elephant in the room that will dominate their season.

"And this is only Day One," one Giant said, shaking his head.

And this was only San Diego, where the sun-dappled folks eating their fish tacos in flip-flops don't know what it's like to work up a really good anger. Holy trenbolone, if San Diego is hostile, what is Los Angeles going to be like? Philadelphia? Chicago? New York? Now that the first draft of the rules of engagement have been written, what happens when the seasoned hecklers get their turn?

Here's just a sampling of San Diego's messages to Bonds: "Barr-Roids," "Bonds 1st in Hall of Shame," "Cheaters Never Prosper,'' "No Confess, No Hall of Fame," "Bonds Greatest Cheater of the Era," "Huge Head, Tiny Bat, Tiny Balls," and, simply yet profoundly, "*''. And that was before someone chucked the large syringe onto the field. Bonds picked it up with his glove. No, he didn't keep it. He flipped it into a camera well near the dugout.

The Giants cannot be a normal baseball team. Bonds, the person and the ongoing news story, is bigger than the team, which you would have understood if you were in the San Francisco clubhouse after the 6-1 Opening Day loss to San Diego. Immediately after the game, as Bonds fetched an ice pack for his right knee, the airspace around his locker was staked out very seriously by a p.r. flak vainly trying to affect a bodyguard's stance, Bonds' personal trainer (non-incarcerated version, who, wink-wink, is employed by the Giants), Bonds' clubhouse lackey, Bonds' personal videographer and about 15 reporters who cared not a whit about what manager Felipe Alou had to say about how the game was lost.

Bonds took some questions, though. With practiced detachment, his answers were devoid of any real thought.

His reaction to being treated so rudely? "I don't have any."

Did he expect more situations in which, as the Padres did, teams pitch to him, even with first base open? "I have no idea."

What about those signs? "I can't read anyway. It doesn't matter."

How did he feel at the plate and in the field? "I felt fine today."

Apparently Bonds prefers to save any meaningful expression for his eponymous ESPN show, an embarrassment for the journalists with any shred of integrity who work at the network. Make no mistake, the show is an attempt by Bonds to spin his notorious reputation while ESPN pays the freight. He is the aggrieved one, he wants you to believe. A nice family guy who flosses his teeth and loves puppies and sunset walks on the beach. ESPN turns over its money and airspace for this. Major League Baseball turns over exclusive access to Bonds' ubiquitous camera crew. The Giants get editorial protection, reviewing how scenes are presented before they are aired.

The real journalists, meanwhile, wear out their welcome by bringing the questions back to the elephant in the room. The hostility at Petco Park -- a backdrop to the chasing of a hallowed record and a steroid probe launched by the commissioner of baseball -- was unavoidable to all except maybe the Giants. San Francisco first baseman Mark Sweeney, an intelligent, agreeable adult, was answering questions about Bonds after the game when the p.r. watchdog decided for Sweeney that Sweeney shouldn't answer any more such questions.

"He's been answering the same questions for six weeks," the p.r. guy said, ignoring the reality that every stop on tour will bring a new subset of questioners. "If anybody has any questions about baseball ...''

A columnist objected to the intrusion, Sweeney being a grown man and all.

"I have to protect him," the p.r. guy said.

Protect him? The first day of the season? A veteran player quite capable of deciding when he wants to speak or not?

The columnist brought the conversation back to Bonds. Sweeney, after an awkward moment of silence, motioned to the p.r. watchdog and said, "Now I have to protect him. I won't answer the question.''

And the interview screeched to a dead stop. Only 161 games to go, guys.

Giants ownership long ago sold itself out to the talents and moods of Bonds, mostly to their profit. The suits bristle at the observation of a wise baseball architect like John Schuerholz of the Braves that Bonds' clubhouse recliner act -- the chair being a symbol of the enabled life -- would never play in the culture of the 14-time division champs. The Giants reason that such an approach would have driven Bonds away, into the arms of another club. Fine. But these are the times, unpleasant as they could be, when the bill becomes due.

Bonds is a daily source of doubt, if even just for his deployment as a sore-kneed outfielder. Alou, for instance, scheduled Bonds to take the second day of the season off. The Giants can tell you exactly how many day-games-after-night-games they play: 42, or a little more than a quarter of their schedule that puts even a healthy Bonds at risk of needing most of those days off.

When Bonds does not start, Alou said he will be used as a pinch hitter only. I asked him why not use Bonds in those games as a strategic weapon, sending him to bat in situations in which a team must pitch to him -- say, bases loaded -- even if it's as early in the game as the fifth inning. My thinking is, if Bonds gets one at-bat, why not use it in a maximum-leverage situation, even if it's in the middle innings? Alou dismissed the idea, indicating he would not remove a starting player so early in a game.

Then again, Alou still bats Bonds fourth, even after watching Marquis Grissom end game after game with Bonds on deck last year, when the manager rightfully has mused each of the past two years about batting Bonds as high as second.

Fact is, San Francisco has a capable if aged lineup and a solid pitching staff, reinforced the past two seasons with young arms on the rise. The Giants are as good as anybody in the NL West, especially when Bonds is in the lineup. But it took only one game to understand that San Francisco faces a unique internal challenge that complicates its pennant run.

The risk is that Bonds' on-again, off-again playing time, the distractions caused by his notoriety and an active investigation into his (and others') possible steroid use adds up to a negative gravitational force that depresses their season. By Day Two, the Giants, from management on down, better understand that the elephant is not going away.