Wow, a super-powers drug you can just rub into your skin? You’d think it’d be something you have to freebase!
–Phillip J. Fry
As Barry Bonds continues his march (read: agonizing crawl) towards the hallowed number of 755, I know I’m in the minority when I say that I can’t wait for Bonds to knock one out of the park. I should clarify: I’m not a fan, sympathizer, or illegitimate offspring of Barry Bonds. I despise the man. I think he’s an abrasive douchebag with a colossal cranium and inversely proportionate cajones. Unfortunately, I’m not naive enough to spend my time wishing and hoping that cheating jerk-offs won’t break records. Shit happens. Cheaters prosper. We move on.
Having accepted this inevitability, I just want this pursuit to be over with… I’d like to tear that god-forsaken homerun band-aid off as soon as humanly possible. Problem is, until that moment comes, the circus surrounding the record becomes increasingly more unbearable. Will Selig follow Bonds from city to city? Will Hank Aaron be present? What the balls do I care?! Unless there’s breaking news about Aaron challenging Bonds to roshambo for the title of “Homerun King,” I’m really not interested in the circumstances surrounding the record being set. You know, minus that whole steroids dealie. That still seems somewhat important. In any case, if I have to watch one more Sportscenter featuring analysts go ‘round and ‘round in another game of “Will He – Won’t He?”, I may be forced to Eternal Sunshine my memory of the words “Barry” and “Bonds,” my love of Barry White and US Treasury Bonds be damned.
Anyway, there does seem to be one potential silver lining to Bonds’ soon-breaking of the record: if and when another player challenges his mark, we’ll all be thrilled to the point liquid explosion. It would be glorious, regardless of who breaks his record… even if they happen to prefer muscular, she-man types. That is, it will be glorious until the next generation of steroid rumors emerge. I guess silver lining is probably a stretch… more than anything, we’ll probably start pining for days when players used performance enhancers instead of being evil genetically engineered supermutant half-giant half-ogre abominations of modern science. So we have that to look forward to.
But I digress. I’ll just let Jimmy Valmer conclude my ramblings: