Actually I realize I have no influence over anything. I just take a common sense approach that the dude was juiced. I'm just glad most people agree with me and the guy's legacy is tarnished.
Actually I realize I have no influence over anything. I just take a common sense approach that the dude was juiced. I'm just glad most people agree with me and the guy's legacy is tarnished.
This is the time. The real Reds organization is back.
But see, you apparently have no problem with Ty Cobb's records and Ty Cobb's enshrinement in the Hall of Fame, even though there's more evidence that Cobb bet on baseball than there is that Bonds juiced up. And it's simple why you don't have a problem with, primarily because I'm guessing this is the first time you've ever heard about it. There's nothing wrong with that, in fact, 99 percent of baseball fans don't know about it. In 80 years, baseball fans' stance on Bonds and steroids will likely be similar to fans' stance today on Cobb betting on a game: they won't know and/or won't care.Originally Posted by Cedric
If Ty Cobb was thrown out of baseball soon after he bet on the game, then Pete Rose doesn't break the hits record in 1985. He doesn't even break the hits record as a Cincinnati Red. Instead, he breaks Hank Aaron's hits record in 1982 as a member of the Philadelphia Phillies (in reality, Rose didn't even break the record on the night people believe he broke it in Sept. 1985, but instead broke it three days earlier in Wrigley Field).
Barry Larkin - HOF, 2012
Put an end to the Lost Decade.
This column does a pretty solid job at summing up my viewpoint on the whole situation ...
My Big Fat Steroids Column
by John Brattain
February 11, 2005
First came BALCO, soon Jose Canseco’s book, now Jason Giambi met with the New York media ...
Right now the good folks in the media are simultaneously gnashing their teeth while licking their chops like sharks in a feeding frenzy inside a pool full of spasmodic hemophiliacs who neglect to clip their finger and toenails. Since hanging by the neck, drawing and quartering, and beheading is considered bad form in our enlightened age--ah if public flogging were still de rigeur that would take care of it--the intrepid knights of keyboard are making sure that the filthy blaggards that have permanently besmirched the national pastime are properly pilloried in the press (whew) detracting from the saintly aura given the game by such deacons of decorum as Ty Cobb, Hal Chase and Cap Anson. [editor‘s head explodes]
Don’t let the filthy bastards into the Hall-of-Fame, kick them out of the game, erase their names from the birth registry, round ’em all up, put ’em on the space shuttle and launch them into the sun where they’ll never be given the opportunity to sully the lily white plaques of Gaylord Perry, Don Sutton, and Lefty Gomez who’d never stoop to bending the rules to gain a competitive advantage.
Oh why, oh why did Jason put that syringe into his keister? Why did Barry rub that “flaxseed oil” on his knee? Couldn’t they have done something less destructive like betting on their own team or following the example of Swede Risberg and Chick Gandil who found a tamer way of displaying the seamier side of their personalities?
Burn ‘em all at the stake and let the ghost of Judge Landis sort them out.
Or, just for laughs we could get a little perspective on this mess.
To begin with, I think steroids in baseball is bad form. I’d be thrilled if the only things ballplayers used to enhance their performance was Wheaties--with a generous helping of wholesome white milk in a bowl--and spinach (separately of course you bloody literalists). What’s done is done and instead of going off half cocked (see the preceding part of this column) let’s go to wider angle lenses to look at the problem.
To begin with: none of the Black Sox are in the Hall-of-Fame and rightly so (although I‘d be easily persuaded to change my mind about Buck Weaver). However the Black Sox scandal didn’t happen in a vacuum. The question isn’t why Joe Jackson is not in the Hall-of-Fame but why is Charles Comiskey in? He knew about the fix going in, he did his part to try and cover it up, and his pecuniary practices towards his players sowed the seeds of the scandal in the first place.
Bottom line, the problems that caused the Black Sox scandal were institutional in nature: low wages relative to their contributions (read: money), owners who looked the other way as players gambled and covered it up when it surfaced, and various lowlifes being given easy access to players right within the stadiums.
It’s a little hypocritical to demand the players be banned for life while the people who created the environment are given a free pass.
What factors have led to the current mess? Money, lack of drug testing/monitoring, lack of penalties when players were caught with drugs, an overprotective union, owners looking the other way when beefed up sluggers were bringing fans to the park.
One executive that I feel should be in the Hall-of-Fame is Marvin Miller, yet it was Miller who recently said: “I disapprove of all kinds of testing unless there is probable cause to believe that the person being tested has done something wrong.”
“If you tell me it will help the performance of a football linebacker — maybe. If you tell me it would help a professional wrestler — maybe. If you tell me it would help a beer hall bouncer — maybe. If you tell me it will help someone become governor of California— maybe, but hitting major league pitching more often and farther? You’ve got to have more evidence than I’ve seen.”
Marvin Miller has always been staunchly anti-drug testing and vigorously defended players found guilty of drug violations….did this stance contribute to the problem? Only recently has Don Fehr--at the urging of his constituents--agreed to a stiffer drug policy….guilty or innocent? Bud Selig loves money regardless of how it reaches the game of baseball, so despite public proclamations about steroids, did nothing for years. Fans packed the ballpark, networks paid billions, advertisers did likewise (remember “chicks dig the longball” ads?) to be associated with baseball and the owners threw this largesse at players who were at the pinnacle of their profession regardless of how they reached the summit. We’re guilty too. Did you spend a nickel on baseball when you first suspected players were juicing?
Bottom line, if we want to start throwing around scarlet letters, we’d better reserve one for ourselves. If we wish to get rid of everyone who contributed to the drug problem we may as well deep six everyone associated with the sport since the 1960's (if not earlier).
We live in a consumer culture where we judge each other by the amount of jack in our pockets/wallets/bank accounts. We set the standard of what's considered important. I think it was Will Rogers who said: “The dollar will never fall as low as people will stoop to acquire it.” People peddle in kiddie porn for money, creeps hang around our schoolyards trying to sell our kids drugs for money, people will sue at the drop of a hat for money, people will fill your e-mail and phone lines with fraudulent business schemes for money, people will scoop children off the streets and force them into prostitution for money, people will lie, cheat, screw family members over, look forward to when mom and dad kick the bucket so we can get our inheritance, betray, defraud, misrepresent for money. What about us law abiding folks? Ever enter the lottery? How about sports betting? Poker? Vegas? Be less than forthcoming on our income tax returns? Why did we do this? Now we’re acting all surprised an indignant because some ballplayer puts something in his body for money?
Did we cheer every blasted home run? Did we go to the park early to watch Mark McGwire take batting practice? Home run Derby is a popular part of the All-Star Game--how did that happen? The fans enjoyed it and folks were willing to pay money to make it happen. Did we celebrate when a prominent slugger was signed by our team as a free agent? Up to the last collective bargaining agreement there was no drug testing, there was no penalty for using performance-enhancing substances, and teams were handing out nine-figure contracts.
What would you do?
Now be honest.
Have you ever dreamed of playing in the big leagues?
Have you ever dreamed of being rich?
How far would you be willing to go to achieve this--especially were it a distinct possibility?
Now be honest and bear in mind what certain parents will do to their children to increase the possibility of their kids becoming a pro athlete.
I’m not condoning what certain players have done, I’m trying to understand why they did so. I know it’s a touchy subject, especially in view of Barry Bonds’ assault on Hank Aaron’s record but even that is a waste of emotional capital.
Who would you say the greatest pitcher of all time was?
What if I said “Ed Walsh”? After all, Walsh had a career ERA of 1.82 (1st all time), he threw a 20th century record 464 innings in 1908 and won 40 games that year and even posted six saves in 17 relief appearances.
Pretty amazing eh? Best career ERA ever.
Of course he played in a different era, where the spit ball wasn‘t against the rules. We adjust for that. Even after the spit ball was outlawed some pitchers continued to use it to gain a competitive advantage and some used it to punch their ticket to the Hall-of-Fame. There was a time in the very recent past where performance-enhancing substances weren‘t against the rules, and after they were outlawed some players continued to use them to gain a competitive advantage.
Yes, some sacred records fall but the history doesn’t change. Ed Walsh isn’t the greatest pitcher of all time….he couldn‘t carry Pedro Martinez‘s jock on his best day. Roger Maris wasn’t as great a slugger as Babe Ruth. Barry Bonds isn’t in Ted William’s territory. We make adjustments due to the era: the dead ball/spit ball era, the 20’s and 30’s, WWII, the hitting drought/pitching rich 1963-68, the stolen base-happy 70’s-early 80’s, and the performance-enhancing era we have now (and are hopefully working our way out of). Hank Aaron has Babe Ruth’s record but not his legend. Now Barry Bonds will have Aaron’s record but not his legacy.
Baseball goes through cycles, some through external forces, some from internal pressures. Baseball changes. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. Baseball adjusts and goes on, so should we. Anabolic steroids, HGH, TGH, and other performance-enhancing drugs (amphetamines anyone?) became part of the game because everyone was complicit: from the offices of the commissioner and the MLBPA, through team owners, managers, and players on down to the fans. It was allowed to continue because people like you and I made it profitable for the media, advertisers, and others to associate with the sport. We’ve suspected steroids for years but still came out with our money in hand ready to cheer. We cannot fairly pin all this on players who have used. We made it profitable to do so. Deep Throat said “follow the money”; do that and more often than not, you’ll find the reasons why something happens.
This is no different.
Think about this: We--the fans--always had the power to rid baseball of drugs. If nobody came to the park, if nobody watched the games on TV, if nobody bought any merchandise and souvenirs, and the stated reason is that we objected that the sports was tainted with drugs--how long do you think it would take for everybody involved in baseball to rid the sport of performance-enhancing substances?
Remember, when we point a finger, we’ve got three pointing back at us.
Performance-enhancing substances are now against the rules. Those found guilty beyond a reasonable doubt will be disciplined according to the rules. Those rules came into effect in 2002 and were strengthened in 2004-5. Let’s avoid the urge to engage in our own particular version of vigilante justice and remember not to punish retroactively. For those of you who feel strongly about the “character” and “integrity” issues that go into Hall-of-Fame considerations remember this: the baseline for this standard was set with the very first election where Ty Cobb and Babe Ruth were among the charter members of the institution.
Pitchers and catchers report soon. Let’s get back to the good stuff.
Barry Larkin - HOF, 2012
Put an end to the Lost Decade.
I didn't know about steroids until the past 2-3 years... and I read this board religiously every day.
And if nobody went to the park, no one would attribute it to the fans protesting steroid use. They would attribute it to the unpopularity of baseball in general.
"Enjoy this Reds fans, you are watching a legend grow up before your very eyes" ... DoogMinAmo on Adam Dunn
The amazing thing about Bonds is just how consistent he was in his prime throughout the 90s. He came into his own in 1990 at age 26 with his first +.900 OPS season. For 10 seasons you could set your clock to Barry Bonds’ performance. He never veered much higher or much lower than his average over that stretch. From 1990-1999 his average OBP, SLG, and OPS were .432, .602, and 1.034 respectively. Also over that stretch he had over 6,000 plate appearances. That’s a HUGE sample.
Only once over that stretch was he more than 10% from those averages, and that was the very next year (1991), when he was below it by 10.6% with an OPS of .924 (his last time below 1.000). If you look at his average OPS from 1992 (his first +1.000 OPS season) through 2000 (the year before he hit 73), he never varied more than 6.7%. That’s a 9 year stretch cover over 5,400 plate appearances. Here’s the numbers:
Then he turns 37 in 2001, and all of a sudden he’s OPS’ing 33% higher than his average OPS over the previous 10 seasons and 6,000 plate appearances? He was 33% higher the next two years, folowed by 21% and 37% higher. This isn’t a situation where a guy took a few years to adjust to major league pitching before he reached his potential. This is a guy who was born to a major league father and played since he was old enough to hold a ball. He played in college, the minors, and then for 12 years and 9,000 CAREER PLATE APPEARANCES!!!!!! I think it was safe to say that by 35 years old and that long in the majors, he was the player he was. Add to that the remarkable lack of variation in his numbers and the picture becomes as clear as a bell. It would be different if he made marginal improvements, but he became an entirely different player and in into a universe never before seen in the game. Below is a graph of his OPS track beginning in 1990.Code:Age OPS Dif 1992 28 1.070 0.6% 1993 29 1.135 6.7% 1994 30 1.073 0.9% 1995 31 1.008 -5.2% 1996 32 1.076 1.1% 1997 33 1.031 -3.1% 1998 34 1.047 -1.6% 1999 35 1.006 -5.4% 2000 36 1.128 6.0% Average 1.064
Let’s be real for minute. How does someone who’s played ball their entire life, including 12 years and 9000 plate appearances in the majors all of a sudden become a completely different player? It’s just not plausible even for an athlete as great as Barry Bonds. Add to that the change in the bone structure of his face, the incredibly sudden and massive change in muscle mass, the grand jury testimony, and the record of the people he was dealing with, and I just don’t see how any reasonable person could conclude it was anything other than steroids.
Now, you can say that you don’t care. That’s fine, I have no problem with that. Some people enjoyed watching it even if it was chemically produced. But just say that. Don’t sit there and try to convince everyone else that there’s a chance it was natural. It’s insulting to be honest with you. Bonds and steroid is every bit as clear as OJ and murder. You can still appreciate it, just don’t kid yourself into believing he was clean.
Last edited by MWM; 01-29-2006 at 09:31 PM.
Grape works as a soda. Sort of as a gum. I wonder why it doesn't work as a pie. Grape pie? There's no grape pie. - Larry David
If it does not fit, you must acquit.
"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
~ Mark Twain
Makes all the routine posts.
MWM, thanks for the detailed numbers I'm just giving numbers that could possibly show details that others may be missing. You can look at them however you wish. If you're insulted by that, my apologies.Originally Posted by MWM
I'm mainly looking for the connection that everything started in 2001 since that's what everybody concentrates on. Everything I've seen suggests that the increase in muscle mass and the increase in HR rate started several years before 2001.
I'm going to use your own chart to add on here ...
The weight figures are from Allen Barra's Brushbacks and Knockdowns. As you can see, the increase in weight and muscle mass started occuring before the 1998 season. The HR rate starts to increase in 1999 when he's up to 210lbs. In 2000, the HR rate remains the same as in 1999 while his weight increases to 220lbs. The only constant here is his BB rate, as it remained steady from 1992 to 2000.Code:Age OPS Dif Weight PA/HR PA/BB 1992 28 1.070 0.6% 18.0 4.8 1993 29 1.135 6.7% 14.7 5.3 1994 30 1.073 0.9% 12.8 6.4 1995 31 1.008 -5.2% 19.2 5.3 1996 32 1.076 1.1% 16.1 4.5 1997 33 1.031 -3.1% 190 17.3 4.8 1998 34 1.047 -1.6% 206 18.8 5.4 1999 35 1.006 -5.4% 210 12.8 5.9 2000 36 1.128 6.0% 220 12.4 5.2 2001 37 1.379 29.6% 228 9.1 3.8 2002 38 1.381 29.8% 228 13.3 3.1 2003 39 1.278 20.1% 228 12.2 3.7 2004 40 1.422 33.6% 228 13.7 2.7
The kicker is that Bonds' peak that everyone refers to took off primarily when his BB rate had a spike. Sure, he had one massive spike in HR rate in 2001, but immediately after in 2002-2004 the HR rate just went back to his 1999-2000 levels. His BB rate got even better. Was he being pitched around more? I don't know, but if he was then his BB rate should have gone up even higher, I think.
His weight and muscle mass started increasing in 1997. His HR rate started increasing in 1999. His BB rate remained the same through 2000. His offensive performance doesn't get off the charts until 2001, when his BB rate spikes and his HR rate spikes again. Starting in 2002, his HR rate falls down to his 1999-2000 levels, but his BB rate remains the same as it did in 2001. You and everybody else can take those numbers how you wish, but I just don't see the clear line that everything changed from 2001-2004 when his weight and HR rate increase started well before 2001.
One thing I do know is that in 2004, Bonds saw 2,424 pitches. He swung and missed at only 84 of those pitches. You've gotta admit, that's not bad plate discipline.
Another interesting article ... http://www.usatoday.com/sports/baseball/sbbw5215.htm ... this is from 1997. What's of specific interest is him stating he lowered his body fat from 12 percent to 8 percent during one offseason. I know during his run from 2001-2004 Bonds lowered his body fat even further down to 6 percent.
Bonds on the loose: Slugger gears up for special season
SCOTTSDALE, Ariz. - A fly ball sails to left field and the outfielder makes a glove-hand snatch of the ball, finishing his catch with a long sweep of both arms, like a bird spreading his wings. Later, the player rockets a towering 440-foot home run over the right-field wall, nearly hitting a bus parked outside. He walks seven steps, watching the ball sail into the cloudy Arizona sky, then claps his hands before breaking into a slow home-run trot.
All that, just for a blast against one of his own teammates in an intrasquad game. ''That must have been Barry Bonds,'' says an elderly fan watching the home run. That was Barry Bonds. Part theater, all performance. A player who gives no quarter to any opponent, any teammate . . . or himself. How else can you explain what Bonds did this offseason?
BARRY BONDS CAN BE RUDE and intimidating, or he can flash a million-dollar smile and thoughtfully answer questions in a gentle, soft-spoken manner - if you wait until he's ready. You've got to play by his rules.
''Barry's Barry,'' says San Francisco Giants manager Dusty Baker.
Bonds grew up in major league clubhouses, playing in godfather Willie Mays' locker when he was just 4. Today, Bonds has Mays' cubicle at 3Com Park. ''Barry might make two or three mistakes over the course of the year,'' Mays says one bright day at Scottsdale Stadium before a Cactus League game, ''and that's when I talk to him. Other than that, he knows what he's supposed to do.''
Yet even Mays recognizes that his godson has an attitude. A TV crew asks Mays to intercede for them in getting Bonds to answer questions about a new stadium in San Francisco. "Not Barry - Barry's in his own (bleeping) world,'' Mays says.
Players from Mays' era didn't wear dangling gold earrings, so it's probably hard for the Hall of Famer to relate. Yet, Bonds, to his credit, was in the clubhouse doing a radio interview.
Bonds justifies his arrogance with his numbers. He's only the sixth player in major league history to hit 250 homers and steal 300 bases in his career. And he's only 31. The others were Mays, Bonds' father Bobby, Joe Morgan, Andre Dawson and Vada Pinson.
Heading into this season, Bonds is just eight home runs shy of 300. Perhaps more significantly, he's more physically and mentally sound than in any other year.
In an offseason in which much of the world anointed Seattle's Ken Griffey Jr. as the game's top player, Barry Bonds gathered himself to make this a special season.
He devoted himself to a masochistic offseason workout regimen, increasing his strength and stamina: He doesn't want a late summer slowdown. He's resolved his personal life: A much-publicized divorce is finalized. And he's aware of his image: He doesn't want to spoil any chance he might have of winning a fourth Most Valuable Player award.
This spring, he acts more weary of the clubhouse buffet platters of cold cuts than routine questions from the media. ''You can't get under my skin no more,'' Bonds says to the small crowd of reporters in the clubhouse. ''My life is a lot different and better now.''
But some things never change, completely. After the intrasquad game in which he homered, a reporter asks if the blast was significant. Bonds responds no, saying the game was for the pitchers. The reporter presses, trying for a better quote. Bonds has nothing more to say. End of story.
After all, this home run doesn't count toward his career stats.
Baker, however, says Bonds is trying to work on his image.
''He's made a conscientious effort - I've seen him signing autographs more this spring,'' Baker says. ''Sometimes Barry is tough to deal with, but most of the times he's a gentleman. He ain't phony or fake about anything.''
Says San Diego's Tony Gwynn: ''I think what happened to Albert Belle last year (surliness probably cost Belle the MVP award) made him realize that sometimes you have to open up and let people get close.
''He fights the media off, and he does it with players in the league, too.''
During last year's All-Star Game in Texas, which was Bonds' fifth such appearance, Gwynn, Ozzie Smith and Bobby Bonilla tried to assure Bonds it was OK to talk to the press, who were more focused on Hideo Nomo than the Giants' outfielder.
''We were telling him, 'Man, you've just got to loosen up, you've got to relax and be yourself. Let them see what you're all about,' '' Gwynn says. ''I said, 'Here's an opportunity for you to let these people get close, but will you do that? No.' And he said, 'You're right - I won't.' I know what's going on up there (in Bonds' head) and I can be a little more sympathetic than most people. I still say he's the best player in our league, without a question.''
BONDS HITS, HE HITS WITH POWER, he drives in runs, he plays a great left field - with the exception of one play last June - and he's a great baserunner. Bonds does all these things well and does them consistently well. He's won three MVPs. He wants a fourth. He's put together three 30-30 seasons. He wants more. Maybe 50-50?
''No, I don't think so,'' Bonds says, smiling at the possibility. ''I'm not that strong.''
Yet his workout regimen, supervised by personal trainer Raymond Farriss, who also trains former NFL running back Roger Craig and all-world wide receiver Jerry Rice, suggests he might be.
In four months, Bonds lowered his body fat to 8% from 12%, and is bench-pressing 315 pounds, up from 230. There were sprints to be run, and run, and run. He looks more muscular, more defined, more powerful. His biceps stretch his jersey's sleeves to the limit.
''I thought I was in great shape the way I worked out before because I was putting up the numbers I did,'' Bonds says in the clubhouse, ''but I was out of shape. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it and I'm happy with the results, but it doesn't guarantee success. I don't care how many weights you lift - you can lift until you're blue in the face - it doesn't guarantee success.
''I don't put a whole lot of emphasis on my training program. I don't say that it's going to win me an MVP.''
What will win it for him? Bonds' numbers are becoming routine for him. He hit .294, with 33 homers, 31 stolen bases and 104 RBI in '95, which would be career years for most players. That was in a shortened 144-game season.
''I'm like Tony Gwynn now,'' Bonds says, laughing again. ''If he hits .340, it's like, 'So? That's Tony.' If Barry Bonds hits 30 home runs and steals 30 bases, it's 'So? That's Barry.' It's harder for people to recognize it now because if somebody has one good year out of his career, it overshadows what I do consistently.
''Don't get me wrong - I'm happy for him. But sometimes you feel like a boxer should be knocked out before he's punched out.''
''The years he didn't win the MVP,'' Gwynn says, ''if I had those years, I'd probably win it. That's the hole you dig for yourself. If you're more consistent than anybody in the National League and you do the same thing for five years, sometime around the third year, there's no glamour to it. He's just doing what he should be doing.
''It's going to take an ungodly year,'' Gwynn says. ''In Barry Bonds' case, it might take 50-50 for him to be an MVP again. That, and the fact that he could do that and his team would probably have to win, too.''
It would be feasible - maybe - if Bonds didn't draw 100-plus walks, which he has done four of the last five seasons.
''If I ever did try to do that,'' Bonds says of a prospective 50-50, ''I'd hit about .220. You'd have to be willing to give up something for it and I'm not willing to give up anything. I like the 30-30 and hitting .300 and driving in 100 and scoring 100. To me, that's as complete as you can be.''
It puts him in select company. Only 14 players in the majors have reached the 30-30 mark, doing so 24 times. Bonds, who put together such stellar seasons in 1990 and '92 for Pittsburgh, is the first 30-30 player for the Giants since his father Bobby in 1973. The senior Bonds is the only ballplayer ever to have five 30-30 seasons. Imagine if Bonds plays at this pace five more seasons until he's 36; he could have 440 homers and nearly 500 stolen bases. That's more impressive than one 50-50 season.
WHAT MAKES BARRY BONDS so good are his baseball smarts, partly inherited from his dad and partly developed through hard work. ''He sees things quicker than any other player except Hank Aaron,'' Baker says. ''He sees a pitcher flaring his glove on a changeup and he'll come back to the dugout and say, 'Did you see that?' Other guys don't see that until the sixth inning, if they see it at all. And once you can see it, you'll always be able to see it.''
''I just know the game well, I guess,'' Bonds says with genuine modesty. ''I don't try to evaluate every little thing that other people are doing. I just try to keep myself mechanically sound and if they make a mistake and put it within that square, then if I'm mechanically sound, it doesn't really make a difference what they throw.''
Last year, Bonds produced an RBI every 4.9 at-bats, sixth best in the National League. He batted .325 in the clutch. Over the last five seasons, only one player equaled Bonds in hitting in late innings or close games - Seattle's Edgar Martinez. But when you throw in hitting with runners in scoring position during that time, Bonds stands alone and unequaled.
''He's probably more comfortable in those (clutch) situations than he is with nobody on in the first inning,'' says teammate Matt Williams. ''Playing against him and playing with him for the last couple of years, nothing he does surprises me. The more you see, you just accept that he's a special player.''
''I think it's just that I don't like to lose,'' Bonds says. ''I want to be up in that (clutch) situation to have a shot at it, but I don't have dreams about the World Series or having the bases loaded or nothing like that. My dreams are 9-0 and we're winning in the World Series rather than having a situation where there's a noose around my neck. I try to look at things a little easier than stressful.''
He is special.
''It's like in hockey in an overtime game, you anticipate Gretzky will score,'' Baker says. ''In basketball, you know Michael Jordan is going to take the shot. In football, you know Jerry Rice is going to catch the pass. That's the real superstar - when everyone knows he's going to get the ball and he still scores or makes the play.''
And Barry Bonds is a superstar?
''Correct,'' Baker said.
The first player ever to win three MVPs in four seasons, Bonds might be able to fine-tune his physique, but his image is another thing. He's had to take a back seat to Ken Griffey Jr., who is more personable - Junior is certainly more visible in his endorsements. But they play different positions in different leagues and have different styles. Will Griffey ever be the basestealer Bonds is? Bonds might not have Junior's smile, but he has the numbers to back up his boasts and it doesn't matter to him what anyone says.
''I feel the press puts a stamp on certain players and once they stamp you as a 'bad person,' then that's what they feed on and there's nothing you can do about it,'' Bonds says. ''I know in my heart the type of ballplayer I am and the type of person I am.
''Every time they say, 'Well, people say,' everyone knows it's just, 'The press says.' I mean, be honest - they didn't do a survey, they didn't really ask anybody.
''As many people as they say don't like you, I have that many people who do like me, so I don't worry about it.''
It's probably about 50-50.
Barry Larkin - HOF, 2012
Put an end to the Lost Decade.