Bonds promises more bounty

Bonds promises more bounty
Each homer sets new record, no telling which will be last By Barry M. Bloom / MLB.com

SAN FRANCISCO -- With the pursuit of the all-time home run record behind him, and with only a cameo role to play as a pinch-hitter on Thursday, a relaxed and confident Barry Bonds played pitchman and prognosticator.

With his record-setting 756th home run in the books -- and now 757 as well -- Bonds said he has his sights on new goals: 2,000 RBIs, 3,000 hits and 800 home runs.

And he said he'll be littering Major League parks all season with authenticated baseballs.

Bonds told MLB.com, and the Giants confirmed, that Major League Baseball will continue putting marked and authenticated baseballs into play on every pitch tossed to the all-time homer leader. That figures, considering every home run creates a new record and no one knows which one will be the last.

"These fans better understand something. It's the last home run ball that's really going to be worth something," said Bonds. "Baseball is trying to downplay it, but that's why they keep changing the balls every time I come up to hit. Technically, the last one is it -- 756 doesn't exist anymore. That ball's worth what it is. The last home run ball is worth the real money. The people need to keep coming out to see it. Because I swear I'll go run out there and catch it myself."

Matt Murphy, a tourist from Queens, N.Y., came up with the big fly about four rows deep in the bleachers just to the right of center field on Tuesday night when Bonds eclipsed Hank Aaron's record with his 756th homer. An offer for that ball of $500,000 has already been made public. No. 757 on Wednesday night was plucked out of McCovey Cove by a kayaker.

The outpouring of well-wishers from fans has been so overwhelming since Tuesday, Bonds said, that he has set up a hotline for people to leave their good-will messages -- 866-218-4117. Some of them will be available for public consumption on the slugger's web site, barrybonds.com.

Despite constant jeers on the road, fans have filled the stadiums - both at home and nationally - as Bonds chased down Aaron's record. Thursday's game included, the Giants have played in front of 16 consecutive sellouts at AT&T Park dating back to June 30, the day after Bonds hit No. 750 vs. the Diamondbacks, and 30 in a row overall since drawing 30,080 at Cincinnati on July 5.

Beginning with Friday night's opener of a three-game series against the Pirates, the Giants have 25 games remaining on a home slate that ends this season against the Padres on Sept. 26.

For Bonds, that still gives him plenty of time to accumulate the 17 RBIs he needs to become only the third player in the modern era behind Aaron and Babe Ruth to reach the 2,000 plateau in that category. Aaron leads with 2,297 and seems to be out of reach.

"The way I'm hitting now, I'll have no trouble doing that [reaching 2,000] this year," said Bonds, who's batting .316 (6-for-19) this month after a .186 month of July.

Bonds also is 84 hits away from becoming the 28th player to amass 3,000 hits. His godfather, Willie Mays, is 11th with 3,282 hits, which also seems to be a bit of a stretch. But there's nothing more important to Bonds than chasing down Willie's records. Bonds hit his 661st homer to pass Mays into third on the all-time list on April 13, 2004.

"Don't challenge me," said Bonds, noting that there were Mays marks he was still after.

When Bonds was told to consider it a challenge, he said: "I'll take that challenge and I'll blow you away."

Bonds, who already has said multiple times he intends to play next season, should pass the 3,000-hit mark in 2008. But he would probably need to continue on into 2009 if he has any chance of catching Mays in that department. He's only had 186 hits since 2004, including 12 in 14 games at the end of his injury-riddled 2005 season that included three surgeries on his right knee.

"We'll just see about that," Bonds said. "I'll do what I have to do."

Of course, edging closer to the 800-homer mark and creating more distance between Bonds and Alex Rodriguez is the big thing. The Yankees third baseman is expected to be the greatest challenger to Bonds' home run record. A-Rod just turned 32 last month and hit his 500th homer this past Saturday.

Bonds, now 43, has homered three times in his last four starts, a departure from the one-a-week pace he'd been on since opening the season with eight homers in April. Since then, he's hit four homers each in the months of May, June and July, but is off to that blistering start in August.

It's not inconceivable that he could hit 13 more, thus ending the season with 770, placing him well within distance of reaching 800 next season. Bonds' 23 homers this year are already the most for a player turning 43 or older in that particular season. Carlton Fisk, then with the White Sox, held that record when he hit 18 at 43 during the 1991 season. And Bonds' 74 since turning 40 are the most for any player after that age.

Aaron, in comparison, hit only 42 homers after turning 40, 22 of them as a designated hitter for the Brewers in his final two seasons. The Hammer's career petered out at 44. Fisk hit four homers in his final two seasons before retiring at 45.

"I can still hit," Bonds said. "I may not be able to run much anymore, but even then I can still pick my spots. All I want to do is hit more homers than I did last year."

Bonds is only three away from the 26 he hit last year when he played on a right knee recovering from those surgeries and with bone chips in his left elbow. His Major League-leading 115 walks in 100 games are already as many as he had when he played in 130 games all last season.

"Isn't that crazy?" asked Bonds, who is the career leader with 2,541 walks and 679 intentional.

Bonds reaches destination, destiny

Bonds reaches destination, destiny

SAN FRANCISCO -- Barry Bonds shot his arms in the air, cast his eyes on the ground and embarked on a 360-foot tour into Valhalla.

He jogged lightly around the AT&T Park infield, perhaps not even leaving any footprints in the dirt. If you looked real close, real perceptively, you could see two angels levitate him around the diamond -- Bobby Bonds on his left shoulder, Babe Ruth on his right.

Bobby had given him baseball genes and lessons, teaching him to play hard and live in a hard shell.

And The Babe created the legacy which Bonds now inherits, his 756th homer on Tuesday night relieving Hank Aaron of the responsibility he accepted honorably for 33 years and has now relinquished nobly.

Al Downing, you're off the hook. You have been replaced, too, by another left-hander, Mike Bacsik, the newest straight-man for history's loudest punch line.

The moment of triumph, rejoice and relief arrived at 8:51 Post Meridian (PDT), Aug. 7, 2007 Anno Domini.

Bonds lashed out at Bacsik's 3-and-2 fastball and immediately dropped his bat, rocked slightly back on his heels and raised his arms -- while simultaneously 43,154 mimicked the motion all around him.

With the ball streaking toward the seats in dead center -- its arc a rainbow at the end of which Matt Murphy found his pot of gold -- he floated down the first-base line, clapping, as pandemonium that had festered for weeks erupted.

By the time he turned third, the dugout had emptied of Giants, and the box seats had emptied of his loved ones -- wife Liz, daughters Aisha and Shikari, his mother, his sister.

The biggest Giant of them all, Willie Mays, was at the head of the reception. The Say Hey Kid gave his godson a hug, and a microphone.

Far from the celebratory scrum, in the euphoria's blind spot, Washington Nationals first baseman Dmitri Young waved his teammates off the field, clearing the stage.

Responding to the roars, Bonds bowed deeply toward all parts of the ballpark. Fireworks exploded, "756" banners dropped from the light towers to frame the scoreboard, the soundtrack of conquest shook the house.

And then Hank Aaron's earnest face and smooth voice appeared on the video board, offering an olive branch that slackened everyone's jaw, moistened everyone's eyes.

"I would like to offer my congratulations to Barry Bonds on becoming baseball's career home run leader," began a speech Aaron concluded with, "I move over now and offer my best wishes to Barry and his family on this historical achievement."

Aaron smiled. Bonds raised his helmet toward the big screen, as if Aaron could see him through the pixels.

"That meant absolutely everything to me," Bonds later acknowledged. "It hit me so fast, I didn't know what to think. It was absolutely the best."

There it was. Just as the beauty of the game continues to renew peoples' faith in the purity of baseball, Aaron reaching out to Bonds across the sea of previous acrimony once again renewed faith in the game's ability to heal wounds.

Visibly touched, Bonds quickly recovered to intone into the microphone he held, "I thank all of you -- all the fans of San Francisco. I want to thank my teammates for their support. They've given me all the support in the world and I will never forget it.

"And," he added, quickly, before his voice cracked, "my dad ..."

Bonds pointed to the sky, where his late father arose four years ago. But he couldn't for long: He soon needed his pointer to wipe the tears from his eyes.

Slowly, he receded into the dugout, along the way shaking some hands stretched out from the adjoining boxes. Once inside, he spent a private moment with manager Bruce Bochy -- who wanted to know about his preferred way to make an exit out of this game.

That decision made -- Bonds would depart in the top of the next inning as part of a double-switch, affording fans another opportunity to cheer his slow trot in from left field -- Bonds took some quality time with teammates alternating with congratulations.

Then he plopped on the bench, alone with his thoughts, his glassy eyes reflecting the depth of the emotions he was feeling.

The observance took all of 10 minutes, a blink compared to the lifetime it took to get here. At 9:01, Bacsik was back on the mound, delivering to Bengie Molina. A consistent buzz remained around the park; the audible part of electricity.

The Nationals' comeback victory permitted Bacsik to openly revel in his contribution to history without guilt.

"I'm excited," he said. "I was part of history, and we won the game. I didn't want to give it up. Now there's nothing I can do about it. Me and Al Downing are linked in history.

"I'm proud to have been part of that, and a part of Major League history."

We've all had a part. Fans from the West Coast to the Midwest. Millions have taken the ride, the older ones making daydreaming side trips to the Atlanta of an April evening long ago.

Even reporters had caught themselves taking inventory of their surroundings prior to every pitch to Bonds. They wanted to commit the images to their mental negative -- in case that became the pitch turned around into history. It was reflexive: They wanted to be able to remember everything about the moment; you know, in case the grandkids ever asked.

Are fans standing? What did that one in the right-field corner just shout? Is there still daylight? Or is that the light from the twinkling flashbulbs? Did Bonds just take a deep breath? How deep is the left fielder?

Is the fog-line above or below the palm trees? Did the pitcher flinch on that swing? What is the music rattling the speakers? What is the message on the video board?

And then, there was no more reason to reset mind's camera. All the images stuck.

Bonds reached his destination, and his destiny.