How many times have you seen the clip of Hank Aaron’s 715th home run? 25? 100? 500? I still consider myself a young chap, but having been nursed and nannied by ESPN Classic, I can easily put the figure in triple digits. The images are unforgettable: Al Downing’s doomed leg kick, the First National Bank ad behind the left field wall and Aaron fending off Topher Grace and Ashton Kutcher as he rounds third.
Compare that with how many times you’ve seen the clip of Barry Bonds’ 756th home run. Five? Ten? Zero? For me, the answer is 4. I watched it live in a bar 2 years ago. Then the instant replay. Then eating my Cocoa Puffs the next morning. Then three minutes ago. That’s it.
As someone who spent parts of his Age-10 summer memorizing the list of most prolific home run hitters, I am not only saddened by my own apathy towards the Record but infuriated by Major League Baseball’s directive of indifference. On August 7th, 2007, a confused fan base asked Bud Selig how they should react, and he replied “I’m sorry…I’m afraid…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
And that was the last of it. There were no MLB “Catch the Fever” ads with an elated PacCom3Bell Park. There were no “Just Did It” billboards. Bonds is now the older brother serving a life sentence who our mother (Selig) pretends no longer exists.
Our poor, hallowed record. When I was a boy, there was a triumvirate of sports records that was Wilt/Maris/Aaron. A single-game, a single-season and a career mark that were in a class above the clouds. I guess I learned about Pete Rose’s hits along the way, and my grandfather talked about Jack Nicklaus’ Majors a few times, and hey, didn’t Dan Marino throw for a ton of touchdowns one year? Or was that Joe Montana and passing yards? But the first three were the only ones I can remember that seeped their way into the general public’s consciousness.
Now, two of the three are unmentionable (and I won’t get into the 61, here. Historical enlightenment should only be offered 1 CubeGM post at a time).
I can no longer rattle off that Top 25 list as Natural Light, time, and ten new entrants have rendered the list unrecognizable for me. The only time I think of it is every May when I can’t remember by sister’s birthday and have to check with Ted Williams and Willie McCovey. I’ve become ashamed and, frankly, sick of the silence. Consider this column my campaign to return the significance and glory back to the Home Run King.
I don’t care that Bonds is a villain. Hell, I think it makes it better. I was a wrestling fan for 18 months of my life (wasn’t everyone in 1999?) and the only thing better than cheering for Steve Austin, was cheering against The Rock (you know, when he was the Corporate, not People’s Champion obviously). For the Anti-Barry clique, wouldn’t it be more fun to wildly and publicly cheer a 42 year old Pujols after his 758th, 759th, and good-god-his-old-knees-just-may-hold up-long-enough-to topple-that-thug-Bonds 760th homer rather than simply breathing a relieving sigh? I would much rather see folks go nuts when Braun hits #100 as they recognize he’s climbed the first rung. Even if it’s spiteful, bizarre hatred driving the attention, it would keep the record alive.
That we even have an unspeakable record to speak about is crazy. Bonds has ascended (descended?) to sport’s #1 non-OJ villain with an impressive combination of 20+ years as a surly, arrogant a-hole capped by committing baseball’s ultimate sin. Let’s discuss that first Crime Against Baseball Humanity (CAH for short). I can’t help wonder if Bonds would be so vilified if he were just a jerk and not a cheating jerk. He’s always been hated by the overly-sensitive media, long upset over his undignified and appalling unwillingness to vet his 1-3 with a walk performance at 10:30 on a Tuesday night. But other a-holes have been forgiven, right? It took Jim Rice 20 years, but the morality umps at the Hall finally released him from purgatory (who needs God when you have the BBWAA, eh?) Ty Cobb sliced a fan’s aorta with a cleat once and he was absolved (I’m fuzzy on the details but I know the man’s fedora was bloody). So I have to think Puma or New Era or even Ecko Unlimited would’ve run a ‘Congrats Barry’ commercial.
The lesson for Jason Heyward: practice shortening up with your 2-strike swing, not the Myrtle Beach beat writer. (Full disclosure: I spent 14 minutes deciding between that uber-witty counsel and this one: learn to open up on inside fastballs and with the Carolina League media).
As for Mr. Barry’s other CABH (everyone remembering my acronyms?), enough commentary assailing the media’s and Selig’s arbitrary, hypocritical and unquantifiable steroid laments has been made where I don’t need to here. And this isn’t a case for Barry, just for the Record.
It’s become even weirder now that the Record’s heir is another self-absorbed antagonist with a PED taint as well. Will A-Rod’s march towards 763 be treated like a no-hitter in the 8th?
“…Hampden-Sydney College won the 2018 women’s lacrosse national championship, today. And finally, Alex Rodriguez hit his 762nd home run as the Yankees lose to the Las Vegas Marlins 4 to 3. That’s it from SportsCenter, good night.”
Well, I for, pray against this further deterioration. I want to teach my kids to recite this list before their times tables. They can do thumbs-down for Sosa and thumbs-up for Mays, I don’t care, as long as they offer some respect for it.
I’m not really sure why I’ve held onto the sanctity of this record while outgrowing others. I laugh at the importance of the ‘500 Club’ and would label anyone defending its merit as a Shriner. Its flood of new members and lack of correlation to greatness has left me unimpressed, I guess.
And although similar things can be said for the All-Time Home Run List (entrant flood and suboptimal representation of greatness), I just can’t see myself teaching my kids the Top 10 in career OPS+. Maybe you just never forget a first record.
As for Barry, love him, hate him, but please don’t forget him.
