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A Baseball Tragedy
(from the Editorial pages of The New York Times)
Published: March 9, 2006
Any major league baseball career is a race for immortality, one that most players lose. The goal is to accumulate championships and Hall of Fame statistics before being forced off the field by injuries and age. It means having the right combination of talent, luck and perseverance, something that is easily said and hardly ever done.
The tragedy of Barry Bonds is that he was set to win this race well before he became a freakishly powerful home-run hitter and the object of fear and loathing and rampant accusations of steroid abuse. He was blessed with outstanding talent — you can't put steroids in your eyes, his defenders would say — and even though he is a sullen, sour presence off the field, he has always been a joy to watch at the plate.
But a new book, excerpted this week in Sports Illustrated, seems likely to shred whatever is left of Bonds's reputation. "Game of Shadows: Barry Bonds, Balco and the Steroids Scandal That Rocked Professional Sports," by Mark Fainaru-Wada and Lance Williams, uses hundreds of pages of documents, grand jury testimony and interviews to present a compelling case that Bonds, driven by jealousy and ambition, used a wealth of forbidden chemicals to make a monster of himself.
Bonds has denied knowingly using steroids, an assertion cast in doubt long ago by his well-documented physical transformation from whippet to mastiff. The charges in this new book have added to those doubts, and made likely the bizarre prospect that if he keeps playing and eventually matches or passes the home-run totals of Babe Ruth or Hank Aaron, his titanic accomplishment will be booed.
Bonds's disgrace was the second blow to baseball this week, the first being the death of Kirby Puckett, the beloved Minnesota Twin. Like Bonds, he had a compelling life in baseball — after an impoverished childhood on the South Side of Chicago, he was drafted by the Twins in 1982, led them to World Series championships in 1987 and 1991, and then was forced to retire after the 1995 season when glaucoma left him suddenly blind in one eye. Puckett was as flawed and troubled as anybody: his life after baseball was scarred by accusations of infidelity, domestic abuse and assault, and followed by years of overeating, inattention to his health and, finally, a massive stroke.
But Puckett, a short, tubby player who seemed to overcome his physical limitations through a sheer love of baseball, displayed a loyalty to his team and fans that won him the affection of the entire state of Minnesota. His thrilling performances in the playoffs and World Series, his pretty good statistics, and his standout reputation were enough to get him into the Hall of Fame on his first try. When he got there, he gave an acceptance speech brimming with humility and grace.
Kirby Puckett made it to Cooperstown the old-fashioned way, apparently without chemical help, and there he will stay, without asterisks or boos.
(from the Editorial pages of The New York Times)
Published: March 9, 2006
Any major league baseball career is a race for immortality, one that most players lose. The goal is to accumulate championships and Hall of Fame statistics before being forced off the field by injuries and age. It means having the right combination of talent, luck and perseverance, something that is easily said and hardly ever done.
The tragedy of Barry Bonds is that he was set to win this race well before he became a freakishly powerful home-run hitter and the object of fear and loathing and rampant accusations of steroid abuse. He was blessed with outstanding talent — you can't put steroids in your eyes, his defenders would say — and even though he is a sullen, sour presence off the field, he has always been a joy to watch at the plate.
But a new book, excerpted this week in Sports Illustrated, seems likely to shred whatever is left of Bonds's reputation. "Game of Shadows: Barry Bonds, Balco and the Steroids Scandal That Rocked Professional Sports," by Mark Fainaru-Wada and Lance Williams, uses hundreds of pages of documents, grand jury testimony and interviews to present a compelling case that Bonds, driven by jealousy and ambition, used a wealth of forbidden chemicals to make a monster of himself.
Bonds has denied knowingly using steroids, an assertion cast in doubt long ago by his well-documented physical transformation from whippet to mastiff. The charges in this new book have added to those doubts, and made likely the bizarre prospect that if he keeps playing and eventually matches or passes the home-run totals of Babe Ruth or Hank Aaron, his titanic accomplishment will be booed.
Bonds's disgrace was the second blow to baseball this week, the first being the death of Kirby Puckett, the beloved Minnesota Twin. Like Bonds, he had a compelling life in baseball — after an impoverished childhood on the South Side of Chicago, he was drafted by the Twins in 1982, led them to World Series championships in 1987 and 1991, and then was forced to retire after the 1995 season when glaucoma left him suddenly blind in one eye. Puckett was as flawed and troubled as anybody: his life after baseball was scarred by accusations of infidelity, domestic abuse and assault, and followed by years of overeating, inattention to his health and, finally, a massive stroke.
But Puckett, a short, tubby player who seemed to overcome his physical limitations through a sheer love of baseball, displayed a loyalty to his team and fans that won him the affection of the entire state of Minnesota. His thrilling performances in the playoffs and World Series, his pretty good statistics, and his standout reputation were enough to get him into the Hall of Fame on his first try. When he got there, he gave an acceptance speech brimming with humility and grace.
Kirby Puckett made it to Cooperstown the old-fashioned way, apparently without chemical help, and there he will stay, without asterisks or boos.
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