I first met Barry in 1996, when Giants magazine asked me to
write a feature story on him. I thought this assignment to be quite an honor
until I realized that I was given the assignment because I was apparently the
only writer that Barry wasn’t already mad at. In other words, I was “fresh
meat”, I was told. For two straight days, I went to Candlestick Park to stake
out Barry for an interview. Both days, he blew me off. With my deadline looming
and my patience wearing thin, on the third day, I went to the clubhouse and sat
on a chair in front of his locker, waiting for him to return from batting
practice. When he returned, I said, “Okay, now?” and did not move until he
complied. He grinned, and said, “I guess so!”
Since that day, his attitude toward me swung from aloof and
dismissive to charming and warm. I quickly learned that if you asked him about
baseball, you’d get either no answer, or some vague cliché. But if you talked
about kids or family, he would light up, flash that winning smile and talk to
you at length.
When I was pregnant with my son, Alex, he was the only
player who noticed and asked me how I was feeling. After Alex was born, he
often asked about him, and then shared stories about his own kids. On a couple
of occasions, I brought Alex to the ballpark and when Barry saw him, he scooped
him up in his arms and talked to him. Several
years later, he started asking me if I planned to have more children (I found
this to be a personal question, but was amused that Barry Bonds was asking me
such a question!), and tried to convince me that I should have more than one.
Imagine that, family planning advice from Barry Bonds! He obviously adored his
children and often spoke highly of them.
So, when the whole steroid scandal broke, I was
disappointed, but not surprised. I somewhat suspected it way before it all came
out, around 2001 or 2002, when he showed up to Spring Training noticeably
bigger (his head looked huge!). It is a shame that all of his baseball
greatness will be forever tainted by the scandal. A couple of years ago, I
visited the Baseball Hall of Fame and saw his record-setting 756th home run ball with an asterisk
permanently etched into. But even worse, were the comments I heard from other
visitors about what a cheater he was. I was saddened by the commentary.
Fast forward to today. Today was my last day at Spring
Training camp and I had seen Barry in passing, but did not get a chance to talk
to him. I was about to leave the clubhouse thinking that I had missed my
opportunity when I headed up the stairs and saw Barry sitting on them talking
casually to another reporter. I joined the conversation. He seemed relaxed,
healthy and happy. He looked to be in great shape and it was nice to see him
back in a Giants uniform. He said he enjoyed his week with the team, but did
admit that it was tiring work.
I had heard that he had taken up biking and I asked him
about that. He said that he loves to ride and has ridden up Mt. Diablo. He said
he’s ridden with Levi Leipheimer, but gets dropped by the pro cyclist. I
reassured him that MOST people would get dropped by Levi Leipheimer! He said
that he likes swimming, but not in the ocean. He said that he did a “mock” sprint
triathlon in Hawaii that his friend set up for him. We talked about triathlons
and he seemed impressed that I had done the Escape from Alcatraz Triathlon and some Half
Ironman Tris. I told him that he should try one. He said that he can’t run very
well anymore. After more than two decades of baseball, his body broke down. His
knees and back hurt. “You just don’t realize until the end of your career how
much you sacrificed your body,” he said.
His kids are all grown now, and he’s moved back to San
Francisco from Los Angeles. He's looking for a house to buy in the City. “San Francisco’s home,” he said.
Welcome home, Barry!
