Great Sports Journalism vs. Mediocre, and Why I Really Hate Bonds

For whatever reason, ESPN's "Page 2" has recently made it impossible to view their former columnists' archives. This is a shame, considering that for a time they harbored two truly great journalists: Hunter S. Thompson and David Halberstam. Though Thompson's columns degenerated from "sports writing" to merely detailing the wonderful world of compulsive gambling, his style was familiar, and engaging enough to hold one's interest--even if you didn't really give a damn about what he was ranting (and I am not a fan of gambling or Thompson's second-favorite interest, football).

Halberstam's lucid columns reflect upon a lifetime of experience, without arrogance. He speaks directly to his reader, gets to the crux of his topic without an excess of metaphor or a trace of hyperbole. He respects his readers and the games he writes about--he understands that baseball is greater and more enduring than the players who come and go. This, and not some conservative moralism, is evidently the foundation for his frustration with the decadence and arrogance of the prima donna ballplayer--above all, Barry Bonds. Halberstam holds my highest esteem as a journalist.

In contrast, new-ish Page 2 columnist Chuck Klosterman recently wrote an article called "The Breaking Point" (here), a long-winded, dull, hyperbolic account about the "greater meaning" of Bonds' impact on the game of baseball, American society, and history. (At least Klosterman's Spin magazine column is relegated to a two-page spread--someone at ESPN needs to reign this guy in.)

First of all, this lousy article is filled with exaggeration. Klosterman makes a list of "Five Problems" created by Bonds, beginning with "The end of numbers -- in the only realm where numbers matter," which includes this gem:

"Because steroids make the values of all modern statistics confusing and incomparable, they also diminish the two things baseball had going for it: history and math. Everything that's happened in major league baseball since approximately 1995 is now potentially useless, which ultimately means that everything since '95 is completely useless. And this will continue to have an effect in the future, even if steroids and human growth hormone are completely eliminated from the game."

Okay. The only reason anyone would make such a lofty statement is because steroids affected the grandest, sexiest of all statistics: the Home Run. If steroids affected stolen bases or outfield assists (or even batting averages) the same way they affect home runs, no one would really care that much (not to mention, people seem to be overlooking that steroids inadvertently helped Bonds shatter the bases on balls record--I mean, steroids made him that much better, that much more intimidating, and therefore, he was pitched around a hell of a lot more. A guy who hits 35 homers in a season does not get walked 200 times).

Back to my original point--Klosterman basically states that the last 12 years of statistics have been rendered irrelavent. Oh really? Why then are we letting cheaters from the previous 80 years off the hook? Norm Cash won the 1961 AL batting title with a corked bat. Whitey Ford, notorious for cutting and greasing baseballs, made the Hall of Fame with 236 wins. Red Faber made the Hall with 254 wins throwing a legal spitball--and Gaylord Perry won 314 games and earned a place in the Hall throwing an illegal trademark spitball (but we laugh him off as an eccentric character, and celebrate him). Tim Raines stole 90 bases in 1983 while jacked up on enough coke to make Mo Vaughn fleet of foot.

Anyone who inflates their already gifted talents by cheating sucks. But baseball is greater than they are, and no amount of cheaters will ever render statistics or the sport itself irrelevant--nor will hack sportswriters who overstep their boundaries of expertise.

My second major complaint about Klosterman's article is his second "problem" created by Bonds: "We were all fools and now we have to pretend we weren't":

"[Bonds'] cheating seems stupidly obvious. But nobody seemed to perceive this obviousness until we had no other choice... Because we ignored what now seems obvious about McGwire and dozens of other hitters in the late '90s -- we will have to retrospectively reinvent how those experiences felt. Barry Bonds will force people to change their recent memories so they correspond with a new frame of reference, which is how historical revisionism generally occurs."

Wait--"nobody" perceived this? Klosterman has a way with words--he writes so eloquently, and is ostensibly so intelligent, I almost believed that statement. But the fact of the matter is that only wonderfully naive children, Bud Selig, and complete idiots didn't observe (or didn't want to admit) that Bonds, McGwire, et al were not getting their inhuman muscle mass from Flintstone's vitamins. There are some brilliant sportswriters, and there are awful sportswriters, but the fact of the matter is that too many sportswriters are out solely to create stories that are sensational--they built up McGwire and Bonds and Sosa at the appropriate time, and they tear them down later on at the appropriate time. In between, they fill in the gaps with hum-drum game coverage, 1986 Mets' arrest reports, and speculative tabloid journalism. The writers' pander to the public's increasing demand for shock and sensationalism, and expand the rift between the media and the players, who need no encouragement or further reasons to shun reporters.

Klosterman's column boasts a brief moment of profundity near the end ("[Bonds is] just compiling numbers we don't trust, and they are as colossal as they are meaningless. To care about these home runs is to care about nothing") before spiraling downward to perhaps the most unnerving, out-of-line, and arrogant conclusions I've ever read in a sports article--one that insinuates that Bonds and his steroid/HGH engulfing contemporaries have, perhaps, forever destroyed the very essence of the game. How dramatic.

But I am tired of talking about Klosterman. I would like to return to David Halberstam, and why everyone should read this artice from 2002:

Are You Having Fun Yet, Barry?

It took a little while, but after searching through Google I was able to dig up this no-longer-archived article. Here is an excerpt:

"Here's what [Bob] Gibson would have done the first time Barry Bonds took him deep, and then did his self-adoration look and then his home-run strut. He would have knocked Barry Bonds on his butt the next time up. (And if this had caused a fight, would anyone have run out of the Giants dugout to take up Barry's side? I think not.) The strut would be, in Gibson's book, disrespectful. Gibson is and was a man who cared a great deal about respect. The way Barry Bonds behaves would be more than a misdemeanor to Gibson, but rather a felony for showing the pitcher up. The ensuing knockdown would be done as a favor for the fans, for Gibson's teammates, for Bonds' Giants teammates, and most important of all, for Barry Bonds himself, who surely would be a better person after being singled out for such an honor."

His article holds more weight today than it did in 2002 for two reasons: it reminds us of what truly insightful journalism is, and it reminds us that even without steroids or the myriad of accusations by Mark Fainaru-Wada and Lance Williams, Bonds--"The Great Narcissist"--does not and never did deserve the respect and admiration of the fans.

Though my personal solution to this scar on the face of the game is easier said than done, I offer it to you all--ignore Bonds. Don't cheer him. Don't boo him. (And for god's sake, don't watch his damn reality show.) The records of Aaron and Ruth may fall one notch down in the record books, but this will not convolute the official statistics because it will not diminish anyone else's achievements, nor will it destroy the game or our history. Bonds is one man; there are 899 other active major leaguers who deserve our attention.

Whoops, i meant there are 869 other players who deserve our attention. Fuck the Yankees.