See No Barry, Hear No Barry, Speak No Barry

Now this just warms my cockles. (And to paraphrase Jim Bouton, I like having my cockles warmed.) From today’s Bergen Record:

Fans turn blind eye to Barry Bonds

Opposing players rarely find a warm reception once they arrive in New York. Wednesday will be even more daunting for Barry Bonds.

Driven by the goal of keeping steroids and illegal drugs out of baseball, volunteers of will be at Shea Stadium ready to hand out the “Bondsfold,” a blindfold that fans can wear when Bonds steps up to the plate to demonstrate their desire for authentic records and an even playing field.

Awwww, isn’t that cute. But let’s get real here, Barry boycotters. You bought a ticket. You bought food and drink. You sat in the seats. Do you really believe none of that money, not a dime, is going to anyone not named Barry Bonds who is similarly juiced? That no current Mets, for example, could possibly be on anything stronger than NoDoz?

Yeah, Bonds is a ginormous target because of that artificially enlarged head full of hot air volumnious enough to carry Jules Verne and 12 of his closest buddies anywhere on earth they want to go. But the only reason we know any more about the state of his body chemistry than we do about anyone else’s in MLB is because of leaked grand jury testimony. He’s just the tip of the iceberg. He just happens to be a particularly nasty tip, is all.

Boo him if you are the booing type, I haven’t a problem with that as long as no objects are thrown. Opposing players who are surly, obnoxious and more talented than they have any right to be are why our creator gave us pursable lips. Heck, wear the Bondsfold if you really want to.

But please don’t kid yourself about why you’re doing it. You’re doing it because you want the home run champ to be an Officially Good Guy, someone who is grateful and humble and makes noises like he considers himself specially blessed to have attained such an exalted state, rather than someone who saw what he wanted and decided he was going to get it for himself at all costs. I can’t say I blame you for that; you want to feel like your money is going to someone who is all about love, not someone who is trying to shove his considerable gifts up the world’s small intestine in a fit of pique because he never felt respected enough (or that his father was respected enough, either).

But if this is All About the Roids for you, please understand that there are players you love, players you respect, players you would never suspect or want to believe for a moment could possibly be dirty, whose identities will shock you as they are revealed in the months and years to come. Try, just try, turning a blind eye to that when it all hits the fan(s).

And be sure to wear your Motafold when Guillermo Mota rejoins the Mets tonight after his 50-game suspension.

Test Your Metsochism IQ!

Crank Yankers


In Met-Hatin’ Wally’s World, Championships Are Won by the Other Guys in May

San Francisco and Memories of Kariann the Cookie Lady, Part 2

San Francisco and Memories of Kariann the Cookie Lady, Part 1

Inquiring Minds Don’t Want to Know: Or, Let’s Not Talk About Steroids and Then Lie Like Hell About It

The Temple of Zoom

Boo You