Paying homage to Bonds, albeit a day late and a dollar short

I love baseball. Always have, always will.

So it was with a heavy heart that I watched Barry Bonds break Hammerin' Hank Aaron's all-time home run record Wednesday night in San Francisco. It wasn't because I view the record as tainted by steroids, as many folks do; far from it. My frustration lied in knowing that this historic sports story would not appear on my sports page the next day.

You see, as the sports editor of the Daily Bee, I was at home watching the historic event unfold on television, almost an hour after having closed my sports page and hit our interim, yet mandatory, 8:15 p.m. deadline.

When I got to work on Thursday, I half expected a few calls or e-mails wondering why the Daily Bee was the only paper in America without a mention of the historic feat. Much to my surprise the voice box was empty, and there was nary a vitriolic message in my e-mail. Nonetheless, I still feel the need to explain why there was nothing on Bonds' achievement in Wednesday's Bee.

*As a side note, I've alerted my publisher and the powers that be in Coeur d'Alene that the deadline has to be back to normal by Aug. 24, when Sandpoint hosts Coeur d'Alene in the 2007 football season opener. I'd hate to have to explain to the Bee readership why Friday night football results won't appear in Saturday's paper. Lets just say I'm keeping my fingers crossed at this point.

No asterisk here (yet)

Back to Bonds. I'm not a player hater, and despite the Balco investigation and steroid talk, I still consider Bonds one of the greatest players of all time. In fact, I'd go so far as to call him the best player of my generation. He was a true five-tool player, blessed with power, speed and a naturally beautiful swing. He may have been the best defensive player ever in terms of turning doubles into singles by swiftly fielding balls hit to the outfield and adroitly firing them into second base.

Arrogant and surly? Indeed. Rude to media and fans alike? Sometimes, hard to deny it. Steroid-fueled? Probably, but so were scores of other players in his era, many more so than Major League Baseball would probably care to admit. In short, I'm not going to single out one player just because he happens to break a couple monumental home run records. I'll let history sort that mess out.

A different kind of cheating

Watching Bonds hold that bulky elbow protector skyward while acknowledging his late father after the monumental 756th homer brought to mind a different kind of cheating; a less insidious form than steroids but a certain breech of old-school baseball ethos nonetheless.

As great a hitter as Bonds is, that hard piece of plastic body armor on his elbow has enabled him to strike fear into opposing pitchers. It provides protection and enables him to basically stand on top of the plate and dare pitchers to throw him a strike, which many opt not to do. With his discerning eye, there is essentially no place to pitch him. He can reach and crush outside fastballs, and pitchers who do venture inside on him often get whiplash watching him turn on and obliterate balls down the right field line. And for a few years, he simply didn't miss a fastball. A pitcher's best hope for an out was that Bonds would scald a ball at a defender.

WWBD — What Would Bob Do?

I also thought of the St. Louis Cardinals' Bob Gibson on Wednesday night, one of the most feared and intimidating pitchers of his generation back in the 1960s. He said recently he began to suspect there were steroids in baseball when small second basemen began hitting opposite field home runs — a much rarer feat back in his day.

Gibson was famous for bringing good old-fashioned high, hard heat when he pitched. He was also known for knocking batters to the dirt with tight chin music when they dared to dig in and crowd the plate while facing him. Many pitchers used to do this, call it an equalizer and one of the many self-policing and unwritten rules that players abide by. Nowadays it will more than likely get them ejected and most certainly gives an edge to hitters where once there was none.

What would Gibson have done if a hitter basically stood on top of the plate with body armor on? My guess is he'd have delivered a 96 mph tutorial between the numbers on the hitter's back, making sure the message was delivered that the inside part of the plate was his, and his only. Alas, it's the 21st century, and old school baseball justice, while still a part of the game, just isn't quite what it used to be.

Eric Plummer is the sports editor of the Daily Bee. For comments, suggestions or story ideas, he can be reached at (208) 263-9534, ext. 226, or via e-mail at "eplummer@cdapress.com."