It Wasn't Supposed to Happen This Way.

This just feels... wrong. 756, if it happened at all, wasn't supposed to go down like this. It was the most glorious record in sports. One that could never be broken. It was the record, the one every kid, myself included, dreamed of breaking. It was untouchable. Or so we thought.

When I was younger, having seen video of Aaron hitting 715, I always thought that if someone managed to hit 756, it would be a truly momentous occasion. He would forever go down in history as a legend, and I would never forget where I was if and when the record was actually broken.

Well, for the most part, that's actually true. 50 years from now I'm sure I'll remember sitting at work at 11:45pm, in an empty restaurant save for the young couple at the bar, watching Bonds' at bat live on ESPN. It seemed normal enough, but then that picturesque left-handed swing connected and his arms went up. He knew. We all knew. The inevitable had occurred. 756. As a hurricane of money-grubbing jerks (the guy who ended up with the ball was wearing a Mets jersey!) converged on the ball in the left field stands, Bonds rounded the bases and the celebration began. His legend was cemented into baseball lore, for better or for worse.

And how did I, a lifelong baseball fan, feel about all of it? Disturbingly indifferent. If you had told me as a little kid that I wouldn't giving half of a flying fuck about the record being broken, I wouldn't have believed you. I mean, he's the new Home Run King! 756! That's more than anyone, EVER. And yet, I don't care.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't hate Barry Bonds. I think he had hall of fame talent before he ever juiced up and I don't hold using steroids against him any more than I hold it against every other player of his generation. And, while I do believe he has knowingly used and abused performance enhancing drugs, he still hasn't tested positive. And even if he did indeed use 'roids, he was still better than every other player of his era.

No, it isn't his fault that tonight was depressing. As they say in the glamorous world of hip-hop, Barry was just "gettin' his" all these years. Can't blame him for wanting to stay one step ahead of the competition. After all, you know the saying: "Don't hate the player, hate the spineless douchebag commissioner who let baseball become so thoroughly corrupted." At least I think that's it. Sounds about right, anyway.