Baseball season is upon us, which means that once again Americans are provided with their favorite pastime: hating Barry Bonds. The Bonds steroids/perjury/socking dingers trial is back up, and much like pitchers in the late 90s, the prosecution has no answer for Barry Bonds. It looks as though Barry is going to get off because of his shrunken testicles (*pause for effect 3...2..1..*), which apparently is the legal equivalent of an intentional walk. Even after retirement, Bonds continues to be a media pariah. Even after he left to game to no fanfare, he is still the target of scorn, ridicule and "BAL-CO" chants. Don't get me wrong, I hate this man more than Jane Fonda and the Jonas Brothers combined, but you have to respect the man's hand-eye coordination and bat speed. The following is an essay I wrote about how the necessary evil that is Barry Bonds has a few positive benefits. I apologize if it reads melodramatic. I wrote it two years ago. I was so much olde
Over-caffeinated and underpaid. Go America. Go Dodgers.