The Blog

If you could ignore that it’s tainted, and swallow Barry Bonds’ straight-faced denial that it’s tainted, the new all-time home-run brought us some great theater, at least. Bonds was fortunate enough to surpass Henry Aaron at home in San Francisco, where he is beloved. There was no doubt about the shot, to nearly dead-center field, which afforded him the chance to stand exultant at home plate, with his arms overhead, like a bronze statue of an athlete at the height of his glory.

The steroid issues and related legal issues that have plagued Bonds–he might soon be indicted for perjury–cloud the record, of course, but in a twisted way the controversy has amped up the entertainment value of the moment.  Every talking head on sports radio and TV has feasted on the unanswerable questions that now haunt baseball–among them, where would Bonds be now if he had never used performance-enhancing drugs? (The trajectory of his career up to the end of the 1990s would have suggested an impressive total, but far short of where he is now.) Another interesting question:  Where would Aaron or, for that matter, Babe Ruth have finished if they had enjoyed the advantages of modern biochemistry?

Now that the home-run chase is over, perhaps the most interesting pursuit in sports is now Tiger Woods’ slow but seemingly inexorable push to tie Jack Nicklaus’ record of 18 major championships.  The good news (and I’m assuming, since there’s no reason to think otherwise, that Tiger is not a steroid cheat) is that Mr. Woods is a total class act.  He is one of the few superstars–Wayne Gretzky was another–who keeps alive the genteel values of grace and sportsmanship that most of us admire.  I’m less pleased that Tiger does not seem to have a worthy rival.  For a time, it looked like Phil Mickelson–who’s also a classy and likeable guy–was going to step up and challenge Tiger’s dominance in a way that would have been thrilling for golf fans. Unfortunately, after his collapse on the 72nd hole of the U.S. Open in 2006, when he fired a double-bogey to throw away a tournament he had all but won, Mickelson has gone AWOL.  He’s vanished beneath the waves like so many of Tiger’s would-be challengers before him.  Too bad.  Let’s hope he can get his act together, but so far it isn’t happening.

One of the week’s most compelling sports stories–lost in the hoopla over Bonds–is the resurrection of former major league pitcher Rick Ankiel of the St. Louis Cardinals.  This is one of those real feel-good stories where you really have to applaud a guy.

Ankiel, you might remember, was a strapping, 20-year-old pitching prodigy when struck out 194 batters in 175 innings for the Cardinals in 2000, his rookie season. The left-hander won 11 games that year and started the Cards’ post-season opener against the Atlanta Braves–an experience that became a nightmare. He threw five wild pitches in one inning, nine in just four innings in the playoffs, and developed such a mental block or mechanical problems, or both, that he never recovered. He couldn’t find home plate with a search light, and his once-promising career was last seen spiraling down the toilet bowl.

Now, Ankiel is back–as an outfielder.  After slugging 32 home runs for Memphis at the Triple-A level, Ankiel was called up to the majors this week and hit a three-run homer Thursday in a win over the San Diego Padres.  It was a testament to one athlete’s determination and tenacity that he was willing and able to reinvent himself and work and work until he made it back to the majors.  It’s hard to top that sort of triumphant story.

Incidentally, the Ankiel story strikes a particular chord with me, because it answers one of the biggest criticisms of my novel, “Screwball.”  Some readers, obviously failing to see the parallels between pitcher Ron Kane and erstwhile Red Sox pitcher Babe Ruth, thought it was completely implausible that Kane both pitched and played the outfield.  The lambasting I’ve taken has left a series of frankfurter-like grilling scars across my torso.  Guys like Ruth and Ankiel make the point very convincingly that a few superior athletes have the abilities to do both.