Wonder if that 10th grade history teacher remembers my essay on Pete
Rose. Not to stroke myself, but I totally anticipated the baseball
legend's fall from grace. Back then Rose was the admired “Charlie Hustle”
of the Cincy Reds, and my essay premise was that it wasn’t for
baseball’s peculiar code of ethics, Pete Rose might be a considered a
criminal. A hustle is a hustle, I wrote. (More or less.)

To this
day it’s true. Manny Ramirez is on TV, being called the greatest
right-handed hitter of all time. Good thing dude can hit, because he's
deep down wild child. For the longest time, it wasn't so accepted to
love Manny. Now his hijinks are considered the "Manny being Manny"
thing. He can backhand teammates, answer cell phones during pitching changes, can demand that stoner classics
be blasted from the Fenway Park soundsystem whenhe steps to the plate.
And I’m cool with that. My eldest child has the middle name “Belle”, so you know that that I’m not mad at bad boys in baseball. (Note: The Man Ram is my favorite player, possibly in of sports.)

Which brings us to Barry Bonds. Allegedly hanging around LA in very good shape, the dormant left-handed slugger reminds MLB of too many issues it wants to forget.
Plus, he shat on too many people. So, the consensus among baseball’s
consortium of owners is that there’s no place for him in the game,
despite the fact that the Yankees —
among a handful of contenders — could use a left-handed power hitter.
(The Sporting News 1990s Player of the Decade can’t do the NL thing, as
its lack of designated hitter would put him on the field, and Bonds’
knees won’t allow him to trot well anymore.)

Listen, Barry’s a
stupid, short-sighted twerp, but that doesn’t mean there’s no place for
him in baseball. I feel like Barry’s being punished for cheating better
than a large percentage of players in the majors. But the truth is that
a whole buncha muthafuckas cheated — and do cheat — and Peter MacGowan ain’t volunteering to give back the cheddar the Bonds-driven Giants made. He’s got a phenom to pay for.

Baseball’s funny, in terms of how its villains are defined. No matter middling numbers, a Boston bad guy or a Yankees villain is always within range of becoming an American icon, baseball being largely a regional game projected by Northeast media powers. And things can go either way. Ask Jason Giambi.
But Barry’s prolly not coming back. And I actually wish he was. That
banned fool can still hit. He’d be a tangible boon to the game and a
draw beyond all reason. Baseball, on this most lucrative of occasions, I beseech you.