The good folks over at Deadspin used to have an update I quite enjoyed, entitled "Why Your Home Town Columnist Sucks." It was
reliably hilarious reading.
Now, considering I live in the Chicago area, this gives me a pretty good daily dosage of tools to choose from for a nomination. Jay Mariotti is probably the most obvious and popular choice, albeit the safest—Deadspin has already called him on instances of
hypocrisy and just
plain stupidity before.
Still, at least he
got it right today. And there's even more aggravating reading to be found here in Illinois when, say, certified douchebag
Mike Inrem or token-female-opinion
Carol Slezak take their turn at the keyboard.
But today I really cast my final vote, because nobody in Chicago—and perhaps all of the nation—is as inexcusably piss-poor at column-writing than Mike Downey. Most of the time, he's trying to be funny and fails miserably at that. To make matters worse, Downey is actually most hilarious when he's trying hardest to be serious.
Well,
until today of course:
"Let us this day, to be fair in the truest sense of the word, now sing the praises of Barry Lamar Bonds, a great, great, great baseball player."
You got that? Three consecutive uses of the word "great." I'm sure he was up all night wrestling with different adjectives before just opting to overuse the simplest one. Following paragraphs:
"This is a man who has walloped more home runs than any who ever hit a ball, more than Hank or Babe or Willie or Mickey or any other colossus who came along."
What a scoop. Very insightful. Thank you. Go on:
"He is also a man who put a glove on his hand and took a position on the field, unlike some we could name."
"Unlike some we could name"? I get the cheap, pathetic swipe he's taking at Hank and others, but because Downey lacks the balls to actually say whom he's referring to, it gets even worse:
"He did not become a designated hitter or demand a trade to the American League, as did other one-dimensional "players" who were too infirm or inept to do anything but hit.
"He is a man who has done much, much more than mash home runs."
And Mike's right here, of course. Barry has done "much, much" (God, I hope this guy isn't paid by the word ...) more than just "mash" dingers: He's also the primary figure in one of the darkest areas of baseball history—an era that essentially stripped the record Bonds broke last night of any meaning or significance whatsoever.
But just to entertain Mr. Downey's logic, let me recall my three biggest memories of Barry slapping that glove on:
—As a left-fielder for the Pittsburgh Pirates in Game 7 of the 1992 NLCS, Bonds is unable to throw out that fleet-footed speedster, Sid Bream, as the Braves' first baseman slides safely into home and sends the Braves to the World Series. Bonds' Pirates are sent home for the third straight year.
—Up three games to two in the 2002 World Series and up 5-4 in Game 6, Garrett Anderson's blooper to left field causes Bonds to fall on his ass before he struggles to pick the ball up, allowing Chone Figgins and Anderson to take second and third with no outs when the runners would have been at first and second.
—The next batter in that game Troy Glaus, who lines a double into left field, over the flailing mitt of one Barry Lamar Bonds. The Angels go on to win the game and eventually the World Series.
Now maybe those last two examples are just me being a fond sentimentalist about
the Rally Monkey. Tell me, Mike, what has Barry done beyond those homers?:
"Among other deeds, Bonds has drawn more than 2,530 walks, a preposterous sum, hundreds more than any man in history, partly because of an eagle-like batting eye, partly because he imbues pitchers with fear."
... and partly because the man wears a suit of fucking armor every time he bats while covering three-quarters of the plate. Oh, and the steroids thing. That too. Anyway, go on:
"The man has stolen more than 500 bases, most of them quite a while ago, back when he had the swiftness of his father, Bobby, and his godfather, Willie Mays. He has legged out 77 triples and nearly 600 doubles."
OK, so Downey knows how to look up stats. Great. But hey, what about ...:
"Steroids didn't have a great deal to do with that."
Well all right! It only took seven prior paragraphs of blathering, but maybe we're getting somewhere with this ... right?:
"The man possesses a batting stroke that in sweetness is right up there with the swings of the immortals. He chokes up on a bat like a Ty Cobb or a Nellie Fox, yet somehow he connects with the brute strength of a Harmon Killebrew or a Jimmie Foxx.
"The man once hit at a .370 clip over an entire season, more than 400 at-bats worth. It is the kind of average you came to expect only from a Rod Carew or a Tony Gwynn, but when the masses speak of Barry Bonds, they seem unable to speak of anything except home runs.
"The man's numbers would be higher into the stratosphere if only more pitchers were not too chicken-hearted to pitch a hittable ball to him. Bonds has been walked intentionally more than 675 times, as proof positive as anything that the bat of this giant from San Francisco has been seen as the most lethal weapon in the game."
... or maybe we're just going to keep kissing ass to reach that word count. It gets worse:
"The man's stats expanded with the bulk of his flesh, true, yet it was not as if Bonds came into baseball with twigs for arms and Pee-wee Herman's abs. In his very first season, 1986, as a newcomer who appeared in fewer than 120 of Pittsburgh's games, he launched 16 balls out of the park."
Even NASA couldn't determine the relevance of this point. But go on:
"The man is no all-or-nothing free swinger. He does not lunge at every offering on the fringe of his ZIP code. He will not be known forever as a whiff king, or are his detractors unaware that active players such as Jim Thome, Craig Biggio, Carlos Delgado and Jim Edmonds each have struck out more times than Bonds has?
"The man has made his history while being heckled and hooted on the job. In all but one of baseball's parks, he has gone about his business while being pelted with personal abuse. Roger Maris' follicles fell out in clumps, which could explain why Bonds elects to shave his head."
I think he shaves his head just to look more like the penis he is, but hey, that's me. Anyway, go on:
"The man stands a chance to close out his career with more than 3,000 hits, provided that his general health holds up, that his status with the commissioner's office remains unchanged and that a team, whether it be the Giants or some other, is willing to invite Bonds to return to duty for one more tour."
Or provided he doesn't get indicted for perjury, but, again, hey, go on:
"The man is a 14-time All-Star, a seven-time National League MVP and an eight-time Gold Glove winner in the field. Whichever asterisks need be placed behind his numbers and name, this is a highly decorated athlete who many a time has been granted the considerable respect of both the public and his peers.
"The man is not revered or idolized but, in the spirit of honesty, he probably has been no more arrogant than Ruth and Cobb were, no more standoffish than Ted Williams and Joe DiMaggio were, no more unpopular than Aaron or Maris were to many thousands because they had dared to endanger the Babe's hallowed records."
"In the spirit of honesty"? Is this man for real?:
"When he endeavored to make Hammerin' Hank's career homer record his own, Bonds did not get to have the Mighty Casey will of the multitudes on his side.
"He did not enjoy the back-patting that Pete Rose did while in pursuit of Cobb's hit count or that Cal Ripken Jr. received while putting a permanent dent in Lou Gehrig's ironman mark."
I suppose it's probably because those last two players Downey mentioned were white—or at least a similar use of the race card has been Barry's excuse for why we didn't join in for any "back-patting" others received. Any final thoughts, Mike?:
"But when this man swung and stung one Tuesday night that cleared the center-field fence at AT & T on a fat and juicy 3-2 pitch served up to him by Mike Bacsik, he became, indisputably, the mightiest swatter of home runs of anyone who made it to America's major leagues.
"For this, while we may not rejoice on his behalf, he is deserving of at least a helping of praise, an acknowledgment that whatever else he has been or is proven to be, Barry Bonds is a unique figure of baseball, quite literally one of a kind."
Well, I'm actually going to have to agree with Mr. Downey on that final point; Bonds is "literally one of a kind"—and I hope and pray Barry's the last of his kind as well.
Better yet, I hope Downey can be the last of his ilk too. I refer to all the steroid apologists who see last night as being nothing all that detrimental to sports because they lack the spine necessary to call the man out for the fraud he is. It's a sad day for anybody who truly cares about the game of baseball, but it's just another blissfully ignorant Wednesday for morons like Mike Downey. If he's feeling lonely or misunderstood, I'm sure he can always find good company over with
similar turds at ESPN. After all, even Mariotti has a job there.
The good folks over at Deadspin used to have an update I quite enjoyed, entitled "Why Your Home Town Columnist Sucks." It was reliably hilarious reading.
