Some thoughts on 756

Before the game began, I had a feeling that this was going to be the night Barry broke the record. It wasn't so much a premonition as it was simple observation: Bonds was locked in at the plate in a way that reminded me of late 2001. Whether that has to do with how his legs feel, the quality of his vision, or just a new form of HGH, he was absolutely crushing the ball. Giants fans can recognize those stretches where, if Bonds isn't walked every at-bat, home runs are simply inevitable.



In his first at-bat, Bonds doubled with a scathing line drive to right. You could almost hear the second baseman wetting his pants as the ball went past him. In the third, he hit another line drive to center for a single. Then, the moment happened.

I hear that television didn't do the event justice at all, in terms of the sound and duration of the ovation. Bonds crushed one to right center, as fans with dollar signs in their eyes scrambled for the ball. Adding to the general chaos of the event, the ball bounced like a home run ball rarely does, going thirty feet toward right into a mob.

When I watched the initial celebration, I didn't think about the all-time record as much as I thought about how much I enjoyed Barry's fifteen years with the Giants. The ball was crushed to center, just like it was when Bonds hit a walkoff home run against Atlanta while his father was dying of cancer. The high first base camera got a great shot of the ball in flight, but the high first base camera angle only existed because of Barry. There was never a Will Clark ball-in-flight tracking shot.

As the celebration continues, I sent out a text message: "just a triple away from the cycle". Two minutes later, Duane Kuiper makes the same observation. My father and I like to yell, "Psychic announcer" when that happens, because we are dorks. I am happy for Bonds, but mostly, I am relieved that Willie Mays is not going to make a speech. Barry Bonds does make a speech, making a strong bid for his place in the pantheon of least intimidating, geekiest superstar athlete voices, alongside Mike Tyson, Tiger Woods, and Will Clark.

There is a typical AT&T Park crowd tonight. In the crowd shots accompanying Ray Durham's at-bat, roughly 85% of the crowd is talking on a cell phone. The ceremony lasted ten minutes, which feels shorter than the delay when Bonds hit #71 in 2001, in a game with a playoff berth at stake. The Nationals are the perfect opponent for a game like this, because all of their games are essentially meaningless. They should be grateful that the home run gives meaning to the careers of Mike Bacsik, Nook Logan, and Jesse Flores.

After the inning, Bonds trots out to left field for what might be the loudest walk-to-left-field ovation I've ever heard. In what may be a symbolic passing of the torch to one of the Giants' great hopes, Jonathan Sanchez technically replaces Bonds. Barry's exit, halfway through a close game, also symbolizes the entire season, where winning came secondary to Barry's pursuit of the record.

It's Italian Night at AT&T Park, making this evening doubly thrilling for outfield stands correspondent F.P. Santangelo. Mama mia, that's-a spicy meatball Barry hit! F.P. says that tonight was the coolest moment of his career in baseball. I think, "Really?" and then I remember F.P. spent the majority of his career in Montreal, where the most memorable events of the years usually involved elderly fans sneaking in a martini kit disguised as a set of binoculars, and poutine-eating contests. Really, F.P. is saying, "Tonight was cooler than that time Shawn Boskie got drunk and passed out in the bullpen, and Youppi pretended to dry-hump him."





Meanwhile, The Dugout once again kills it with their take on the home run, even if they hate Barry.