Maury
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BARRY BONDS Dilemma |
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Travers' new book finally
explains the phenomenon
By MAURY ALLEN
of TheColumnists.com
The summer of ’61 remains the most thrilling baseball
experience of all time in my book. All of my books.
That was the year Roger Maris and Mickey Mantle chased the Babe,
the year Ford Frick was striving to save Babe Ruth’s 1927
home run record, the year a home run chase energized the game
and angered the fans at the same time.
Mantle had become a folk hero by then and Maris naturally became
the villain. That’s just the way it works. It also happened
because Mantle had been a Yankee 10 years by then and Maris had
invaded his turf with a 1960 MVP season.
The season caught fire early in June, exploded in July and August
as both sluggers battled the Babe and each other and reached
that breathless crescendo in the final days of September as Mantle
pulled out of the race with an injury and Maris roared home with
home runs 60 for the tie and 61 for the new mark.
Commissioner Frick had ruled that no home run record mattered
if it didn’t happen within 154 games, the same schedule
Ruth faced in 1927. Frick was stupid about that but Maris drove
onward to his glory in the last day of the 162 game season.
Maris was demeaned by the print press of the time, including
this writer, as much for his sour personna as for his not being
Mantle. Time cured my negative attitudes and I now respect the
memory of Maris and his accomplishments as much as any event
in the game’s glorious history.
I’m going through the same trauma more than 40 years later
with Barry Bonds.
After Mark McGwire paved the way with the 70 homers, Bonds established
a new standard with 73 last year. He also forced many observers
to recognize him as the game’s greatest player. Ever. Numero
uno. Best of the best. Just look at the numbers.
In an intriguing new book by author Steven Travers entitled “Barry
Bonds: Baseball’s Superman” (Sports Publishing, Inc.),
the Bonds tale is spelled out in the most thorough, interesting,
revealing, concise manner ever reached.
Bonds has been around the big league baseball scene since 1986.
Most veteran sportswriters knew him long before that as the son
of the superstar Bobby Bonds. When Bobby Bonds played for the
Yankees, Barry was often the kid manager Billy Martin would chase
off the field before drills.
Travers has examined this incredible background as the son of
a star, the Godson of the legendary Willie Mays, the cousin of
Reggie Jackson, the pal of every exalted player over the last
two decades.
Bonds has a .292 lifetime average and 567 homers going into this
year. He also had a .196 post-season mark with one homer. So
many observers concentrated on that in evaluating his game standing.
Bonds had always been difficult
for sportswriters to deal with because he could be mean, curt,
short tempered, sarcastic and withdrawn. Nobody has funny Barry
Bonds anecdotes to tell.
Should any of this factor in when he is being written about?
Of course, not. Does it factor in? Certainly. Even we sportswriters
are real humans and subject to the sweetness of life. Flattery
and familiarity with an athlete will get them anywhere.
There was always a confrontational wall around Bonds. He was
secretive and suspicious. There was a small sense of racism around
him as if no white sportswriter could ever explore him objectively.
Racism, that old American albatross, happens to work both ways.
Travers deserves much credit for exploring all of the Bonds past
in an objective light. He has seen the complete man, warts and
all, and concludes that his playing skills have been undiminished
by a surly sense and a joyless attack on the game.
Joe DiMaggio had a joyless sense about him as a player and icon
and few ever pointed that out to fans.
Travers describes how difficult it had to be as the son of a
star, especially in the same profession with such expectations.
No one ever saw Jackie Robinson, Jr. Roy Campanella, Jr. or Joe
DiMaggio Jr. in a big league uniform. When Pete Rose, Jr. showed
up for his cup of coffee it was an embarrassment.
Bonds survived all of that background and achieved his position
as the game’s best player off the game’s biggest season
in 2001.
He also did it after the trauma of 9/11. It is why his deeds
on the field last year seem slightly hazy. The real world events
took much of the sting out of 73 home runs and an immortal season.
Bonds is only 37 years old and has at least five more years with
the San Francisco Giants. It is a good bet that he may yet hit
more than 73 homers in one season and even hit more than 755
home runs. Henry Aaron is watching.
Somehow, Travers got Bonds to cooperate with this work and it
reads fairly, honestly and dramatically. I wish every ball player
I ever interviewed greeted me with a smile. Can’t happen.
Remember this. Not every grocery clerk or bank teller greets
us with a smile, either.
© 2002 by Maury Allen. The Maury Allen caricature is ©2001
by Jim Hummel.
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