How I See Barry

Today, the ball that Barry Bonds hit for his record-breaking 756^th career home run becomes a part of the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, N.Y. People have argued about the home runs and the record and the ball. But I’d like to talk about Barry. I’d really like to talk about who Barry was when I was a kid and what he meant to me when I was growing up.

I grew up in central California in the late ‘90s and early 2000s as the San Francisco Giants were at their best, winning division races and pennant chases year after year after year. They had a lot of great players and I knew the names of every one of them. But one guy really made crowds everywhere stand up and scream just by coming to plate or trotting to the field.

Barry Bonds, who played left field for the Giants for as long as I could remember watching baseball, was a baseball god. He was different from the other players because you could almost predict his moments of greatness. The Giants would need that one big hit to surge into the lead and you could count: three...two...one...and Barry would snap his bat around in his trademark tight swing. The next shot on the television would be that long shot of the baseball diamond where you could see the tiny baseball disappear over the right field wall.

That’s who Barry Bonds will always be to me, no matter what any one says about his ball or his record or the man himself. In my mind, in my memory, Barry will forever be the guy you could count on in the clutch. Really, I think that’s the kind of baseball player a guy has to be to be defined as a star.