Ruth, then Aaron — now the ego
The man you love to loathe nears baseball's pinnacle. Just don't ask for an autograph.
By John M. Glionna, Times Staff Writer
April 6, 2007


It's gone



alone again, naturally


SAN FRANCISCO — Who knows which fan will catch the historic blast that crowns Barry Bonds as baseball's all-time home run king.

But the teenager who caught the one tying Babe Ruth's 714 had this to say: He hates Bonds.

Just 21 swats shy of besting the record 755 home runs set by Hank Aaron a generation ago, the Giants slugger has emerged not as a role model but as the most divisive figure in all of professional sports.

Bonds — and many of his fans here — couldn't care less.

Even as his surly behavior and su ions of illegal steroid use overshadow his achievements, he maintains his petulant swagger on and off the field — grandstanding home runs, barking at reporters and snarling at requests for his autograph.

Many baseball fans have responded with the raspberry. On the road, Bonds is booed lustily by crowds who hurl insults and detritus onto the field. "Steroids!" they chant. "Cheater!"

In Giants-loathing cities like Los Angeles, he's often jeered not just each time he takes the plate but long before — through pregame practice throws, team introductions and on-deck warmups.

In San Francisco, which plays host to the Dodgers for a three-game series beginning today, the son of longtime favorite Bobby Bonds and the godson of Willie Mays has remained baseball royalty.

Loyalists handle the moody slugger with kid gloves, choosing to ignore his character flaws as long as he sends baseballs splashing into McCovey Cove.

"I'm here to watch Barry play ball," said Tony Chaney, 27, who attended Giants opening day this week in a team jersey bearing Bonds' name and No. 25. "I go see Tom Cruise movies, too, and that guy's the original prima donna. I couldn't care less."

But the adulation is waning. When Bonds was announced Tuesday, heckling could plainly be heard. During a preseason game last week, Giants fan Javier Meneses yelled "Where's the juice?" using a slang word for steroids.

Meneses was against the team's decision this spring to give the 42-year-old Bonds a one-year, $15.8-million contract so he could break Aaron's record as a Giant. He said he has grown tired of the selfish antics of a player who openly berates teammates and scorns team photos and fan appreciation gatherings.

Bonds' sour at ude, he says, has taken the joy out of the home run race. "It's not just the drugs," he said. "It's about being a jerk."

Some defend Bonds as a complex, misunderstood athlete whose misfortune is playing in an era in which fans expect to see their stars up close and personal.

"Ty Cobb was a jerk and Joe DiMaggio wasn't exactly a nice guy, either," said Harry Edwards, a UC Berkeley sociologist. "The Hall of Fame is riddled with people with major character flaws never subjected to the scrutiny that Barry Bond suffers."

Others tolerate his tantrums as a devil's bargain: Wow me on the field, they say. Whatever you do after that is your business.

"The guy's a complete idiot," said Giants fan John Merizom. "But I'm not here to judge his morality or personality. I pay my money to see Bonds perform between the lines."

Bonds saves his worst contempt for the media. Attempts to interview him for this story were unsuccessful. In 2001, when a reporter asked about his home run total after he declared the matter closed, Bonds snapped: "Did you go to deaf school?"

Ardent fans don't fare much better. At Giants spring training in Arizona last month, Ed Aceves pleaded with Bonds for an autograph for his children, explaining that he had failed to score the keepsake in four years of trying.

"If you're going to scream at me," Bond's smirked, "I want you to keep your streak active."

"I wasn't screaming," Aceves, 35, a Phoenix telemarketer, said later. "I was just asking. I love the guy's talent, I just hate the whole ego thing."

In a 1993 interview with Sports Illustrated, Bonds said he was mystified by fan demands. "Why can't people just enjoy the show?" he asked. "But in baseball, you get to see us, touch us, trade our cards, buy and sell jerseys. To me, that dilutes the excitement."

He blasted autograph seekers: "When I go to a movie, after the final credits roll, I get up and leave. It's the end! But I'm supposed to stand out there for three hours and then sign autographs? If fans pay $10 to see Batman, they don't expect to get Jack Nicholson's autograph."

Some baseball insiders get similar abuse. Pete Diana, a former Pittsburgh Pirates team photographer, still reels from a major league Bonds snub.

In 2002, two Pirates groundskeepers died in a car crash on opening day. Both left their children without health insurance, Diana says.

All season, he asked visiting all-stars such as Sammy Sosa and Randy Johnson to sign mementos for auction to help the families. Everyone agreed — except Bonds, a former Pirate.

Players warned Diana not to approach the peevish Bonds. "But I figured he knew both men when he played here," he said. "But when I asked for his help, he cursed at me. I tell you, that guy's going straight to ."

In his biography "Love Me, Hate Me: Barry Bonds and the Making of an Antihero," author Jeff Pearlman describes how the 12-year-old nephew of Pirates pitcher Danny Darwin once handed Bonds a baseball card to sign. Bonds ripped it in half.

"In the most basic sense, he's not a nice person," Pearlman said of Bonds, who refused to be interviewed for the book. "He can be charming, but it doesn't happen often. He's the most despised athlete in America. In his defense, he's almost socially re ed. He doesn't know how to deal with people on a human level. It's the way he was raised."

Even as a kid growing up in the Bay Area, Bonds was aloof.

"There was always a sense of en lement with Barry," said Neil Hayes, whose 2006 Chicago Sun-Times column describing his time covering Bonds for a Bay Area paper was headlined: "What's he like? You don't want to know." "Nothing better describes him than the magazine headline 'I'm Barry Bonds and You're Not.' He can treat you like dirt but, boy, you still better bow to him."

At Arizona State, Bonds was so disliked that coach Jim Brock let players vote on whether to kick his star athlete off the team. "The verdict was 22 to 2 — only two guys voted to keep him," Pearlman said. For obvious reasons, Bonds stayed on the team.

Bonds' arrival in San Francisco in 1993 sparked a team resurgence after years of failure. Owners later built a new ballpark to capitalize on their superstar. Many locals refer to it as the stadium that Barry built.

"Giants fans hated Barry in Pittsburgh," said Brian Murphy, a local radio sports talk show host. "He came here as the preening egotistical jerk he is now. But suddenly he was playing for the home team."

Bonds soon installed himself in a separate bank of lockers that came to be known as "Barry's Kingdom." It had a private staff of personal trainers, a vibrating leather lounge chair and a 32-inch TV angled so no one else could see it.

"He stiffed the team pictures, didn't stretch with the other players, had his own trainers," said Murphy. "What he was telling everyone on the team was 'You're not as good as me.' "

Still, surgery limited Bonds to just 14 games in 2005. Then came allegations of drug use. A grand jury is probing whether Bonds lied under oath about steroids.

When it was reported months ago that Bonds tested positive for amphetamines last season, he said he got the drugs from a teammate. Fans responded with anger on local radio shows.

Reactions in the ballparks have often been brutal.

Last season in San Diego, a fan threw an enormous plastic syringe at Bonds. In Philadelphia, fans unfurled a huge left field banner that read: "Ruth did it on hot dogs & beer. Aaron did it with class. How did you do it?"

In Phoenix, Mark Greggersen was arrested for throwing a tube of Icy Hot balm near Bonds. The 24-year-old bank worker said it was payback for Bonds refusing him an autograph years ago. He paid a $250 fine — but said it was money well spent.

Tyler Snyder, 19, who caught Bonds' 714th homer, called him arrogant: "Nobody likes him. It's easy to jump on the bandwagon."

When Bonds eclipsed the Babe's record, former baseball Commissioner Fay Vincent was unimpressed, saying "Bonds should be honored very carefully. It should be a one-handed clap…. There is a cloud of su ion over what he has done."

This season, as Bonds closes in on baseball immortality, some San Franciscans claim to see signs of a humbler, sweeter hometown hero. After all, Bonds now has only two lockers, dresses with teammates, shares their personal trainers.

He even attended a recent public outing with the team and will appear on "Larry King Live" next week.

Other fans just want Bonds to be Bonds.

"Everyone loves a freak show and this guy's the biggest three-ring circus in the history of the game," said Damon Bruce, a radio talk show host.

"Right or wrong, I dare you to take your eyes off him. Sports doesn't get any better than Barry Bonds digging in for an at-bat."

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