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Who wants to hear more about Barry Bonds? "Who doesn't?" you say. And you're right -- no one can get enough of the lovable, straight-shooting superstar. In fact, call me crazy, but I think he'd be a great subject for a reality TV show. (But, hey -- that's my idea. If any network out there wants to do it, you've got to run it by me first.)
Anyway, I was interested to read last week that Bonds' lawyers requested that a judge seize all of the profits from a new book alleging their client used steroids. Not because the charges in the book are wrong, however -- because his attorneys say the information in the book was based on illegally obtained grand jury transcripts. This is the same line of reasoning that says it's OK to yell at your wife for not knocking first when she walks in on you having sex with another woman. And I agree. It's rude not to knock, no matter what the circumstances.
I was surprised Bonds' legal team didn't sue for libel, though. I bought "Game of Shadows" last Thursday when it came out and noticed several parts that I doubt are factual:
Page 24: "Teammates immediately began seeing changes in Bonds' body, most notably his head. In the ninth inning of a mid-April game against Los Angeles in 1999, Dodgers first baseman Eric Karros ripped a line drive down the first base line for what appeared to be a game-winning hit. But in the blink of an eye, the ball veered some 100 yards to left field and into the waiting glove of Bonds, sucked in by the intense gravitational pull of his enormous head. Game over. Giants win."
Page 39: "Whispers grew louder and louder that something suspicious was going on inside the rundown strip mall that housed BALCO's headquarters. And the company softball team only made the rumors grow, as Victor Conte and Greg Anderson drew attention by repeatedly hitting 600-foot home runs as BALCO won five straight titles in the San Francisco Scientists Softball League."
Page 68: "The 2003 BALCO holiday party was quite a scene. All of the top names were there: Bonds, Jason Giambi, Bill Romanowski, Marion Jones. But Conte had a big surprise in store. He gathered everyone around, thanked them for coming, and then introduced the newest BALCO client … Santa Claus himself. Out walked Claus. But this wasn't the Jolly Old Elf generations have come to know and love over hundreds of years. Far from it. Claus was unrecognizable to most everyone in attendance. Gone was his well-known belly. In its place was a flat, ripped stomach. His white beard was shaved off all but for a dyed-black goatee modeled after the one sported by his trainer, Greg Anderson. His red and white-trimmed hat looked a few sizes too small and was perched awkwardly atop his head. His arms bulged like they were stuffed with sacks of toys. Santa's elves were there, too, toting around miniature notebooks which they used to keep track of their boss's dosage schedule. Mrs. Claus was not in attendance, however. She had been replaced by a rather unintelligent woman named Candy who had worked for a time in Reno as a stripper. Worst of all, Santa no longer used his trademark line: "Ho, ho, ho." Now he seemed more partial to: "What? Did I [bleeping] stutter?" Even hard-core BALCO devotees like Bonds were saddened by the scene, but Claus was part of the company's stable of clients for the same reason Bonds was -- he was looking for an edge to extend his career."
Page 94: "Bonds called his girlfriend and left a message on her answering machine: 'Hey, it's me, Barry. I was just calling to see if you have ever heard of two investigative reporters named Lance Williams and Mark Fainaru-Wada. I think they are just absolutely compelling writers. Probably the best writers ever. In fact, even if they wrote a book about me someday that put me in a very negative light, I'd probably buy it because of how great they are. I mean it. They're awesome. I'd gladly plunk down 26 bucks to read something written by them. Wouldn't even think twice about it.'"
See what I mean? I'm not even a third of the way through the book and already I've found four things that are pretty unbelievable to me, even if there supposedly is grand jury testimony that backs all of it up. And that last one not only seems fabricated, but incredibly self-serving by the book's authors. So listen up, Barry: You've got to sue for libel because there's no way you can lose. Either that, or destroy all those who have spoken ill of you in a steroids-induced rage.
Headlines …
Tony Skinn, George Mason punch UConn's title hopes in the crotch
Rudy Gay's draft stock rising with every mediocre game he plays
Adam Morrison finally cries himself to sleep
LSU's "Big Baby" Davis walking in Shaquille O'Neal's shoes to the campus dining hall
Men's tournament falling well short of matching the excitement of Candace Parker "dunking"
Terrell Owens demands Cowboys renegotiate his contract
Three Things I Thought I Thought While Rolling Around Sobbing in My Living Room …
1. I bet Jim Calhoun was pretty happy that UConn lost yesterday to George Mason. The upset gave him the chance to rip into his team in the postgame locker room for losing to a No. 11 seed with a trip to the Final Four on the line. That's the type of stuff Calhoun seems to enjoy most about coaching -- yelling, whining and being, in general, 100 percent unlikable. Winning and having fun? Not so much. But even if UConn had gone on to win the national championship this year, I'm sure Calhoun would have managed to ruin it for them somehow. By, say, ripping into his team for not cutting down the nets properly, or telling them his 2004 title-winning team executed better. Or both, probably.
2. If you think the girl shrieking in the crowd during the UCLA-Gonzaga game was annoying to you, just think how loud it was to Jordan Farmar's ears. I'm surprised the dude didn't go deaf.
3. I love all the bad blood that has developed between the Seahawks and the Vikings over restricted free agents Steve Hutchinson and Nate Burleson. First the Vikings signed away Hutchinson, one of the top offensive linemen in football, to a huge seven-year, $49 million deal that was virtually impossible for the Seahawks to match due to several so-called "poison pill" elements in the contract. Then Seattle fired right back at the Vikings by offering Burleson, one of the top wide receivers in, uh … the state of Minnesota (if we're being generous), an identical seven-year, $49 million offer sheet with "poison pill" provisions of its own, basically saying to the Vikings organization: "Ah yeah, Vikings! We just totally overpaid one of your mediocre players. Whatcha gonna do now, huh? Whatcha gonna do? You never would have paid him that much, so who's the stupid one now, huh? Who's the stupid one now? (Oh, right. Still us.)"
DJ Gallo is a regular contributor to ESPN The Magazine, as well as the founder and sole writer of the award-winning sports satire site SportsPickle.com. He also contributes headlines to "The Onion."
