If I’ve learned anything about Barry Bonds over the course of his career, and especially in recent years, is that you can never fully give up on him.
Bonds, perhaps the more polarizing figure in sports in recent years, seems to thrive in conflict, turning boos into awe when sending a pitch into orbit.
When Bonds does hit 756, he will put the proverbial cherry on top of his already stellar Hall of Fame resume. But we’ve already known that he’s been headed to Cooperstown since the turn of the century.
Before Balco and before the leaked Grand Jury testimony, Bonds was a three-time MVP and a seven-time All-Star who blasted 40 home runs in three separate seasons. Yet, when Bonds does finally make history, history itself may not look so kindly upon him.
If the book were to be closed on Bonds today, it would say on one hand that Bonds was the most feared hitter in the early 2000s, and arguably one of the greatest players of all time. But in that same book, Bonds would be labeled as a player who thought cheating was OK, so long as he got away with it, and that his prickly demeanor toward both media and fans was acceptable, so long as he continued to crank out the home runs.
Bonds has maintained the facade that he doesn’t care that the book may label him a cold-hearted cheater.