Saturday, August 04, 2007

For it's one, two, three strikes, you're out

Interesting commentary on Barry Bonds:
Embarrassment? To the last-place Giants? Well, you could say that Bonds is about three years late to that realization, but that would be mean. And that's not what Bonds is speaking to, of course.

He's angry and embarrassed because he has quickly and perhaps not temporarily turned into just another old hitter; Bonds' pride is wounded and he's feeling desperate - who is he if he can't hit anymore?

Just another bitter old guy who can't hit anything above 90 mph and should probably retire if this slump extends another 20 or 30 at-bats, though he won't want to and I'm sure the Giants won't make him.

I'm guessing we'll soon be hearing about his sore knees; I'm expecting a trip to the disabled list very soon, since dissipating legends usually need excuses and side trips through purgatory before they admit defeat.

But this isn't really about sore knees, sore feelings or splattered laundry. This is about Bonds staring into the void, absolutely getting decimated by good pitchers and unable to square up even Brett Tomko's flattest deliveries.

The obsession to prove something, even if it means the ruin of one's career. Who does that remind you of?
On Iraq, George Bush is trapped in his own private Guantanamo, a detainee of his personal and uncontrollable obsession about this war, no matter what the truth, no matter what the cost, no matter what the consequences.

At every single step of the way towards this catastrophe, the Senate Republicans marched in lockstep, at first blinded by their power in controlling the Senate, and then blinded by their fear of standing up to the man most of them know is deadly wrong, about this deadly war.

On Iraq, George Bush’s vision is that America should be held hostage to whatever darkness governs his spirit on this war that should never have been fought.

A stretch? Nah, I don't think so. Both are so focused on something to the detriment of everything else in their lives.

Only no one dies because of home runs.

And just as there are the 28%ers who will worship at the altar of GWBush beyond all reason, there are those who think Bonds' steroid and ego-driven quest for the home run title is admirable. I think it's sad. When he's a crippled old man, sitting in a lonely room with his trophies, perhaps then he can contemplate what being a real sports hero might have been like.

Someone like Hank Aaron.

And for GWBush, as he contemplates what might have been . . . who am I kidding? He is and will always be delusional. Screw him.

(The only Mike Shelton/OC Register image I will ever agree with)