Please allow a Baseball Historian to express a sentiment that I feel at the bottom of my soul. My name is Brendan Sansivero and I am a Sophomore Political Science major and the last time I wrote a column was for my high school newspaper about the trials of Maurice Clarett and his rise from a Youngstown, Ohio ghetto to a potential NFL draft picka and the unfair treatment he received as an “unreliable” young man who had spent his youth surrounded by violence and now had a chance to realize the American Dream. I make mention of this because it is only on very special occassions that I feel the need to express my opinion in print about the sports world. Today, I was prompted by the grotesque behavior of Barry Bonds Jr. in his first media address since his preferably secret grand jury testimony was revealed this summer. I am the one you will find around campus wearing a Roberto Clemente jersey and a 1939 Brooklyn Dodgers hat. I believe Sandy Koufax is the greatest left handed pitcher ever to live and I still get chills up my spine thinking that the greatest shortstop to ever life, Honus Wagner, fielded grounders in the first World Series at the spot where I attend my 10:15am class. I not only believe, I KNOW that the greatest moment in American sports was the day Jackie Robinson stepped on the field for the Brooklyn Dodgers at second base. As such, I feel especially obligated to comment on the recent major league baseball developments involving the “s” word. To open, let me say that Barry Bonds is by far and away the greatest baseball player any of us has seen in our lifetime, save for some professors alive during the the Willie Mays period in San Fran/NYG. As Barry asserts, steroids do not improve one’s ability to hit a biting curveball or focus on a fastball and to make solid contact with the pitch. Unfortunately, Barry is closing on the most hallowed of records ever to exist. The Home Run record in America’s pasttime, baseball. Barry is about to pass Babe Ruth on the all time home run list for 2nd place, a record not to be taken lightly at all, as I need to present no context for Ruth, a man who is a household name even though he died before the proliferation of color photography. Barry Bonds appeared on my television today under the cloud of likely having admitted to using illegal steroids, although unknowingly (please). I do not wish to argue Bonds innocence or guilt or to dispute whether or not his records shall be legitmate, I simply wish to provide some context in American culture for the events that are about to occur in the next few months. Like it or not, baseball is America’s sport. There is a magical feeling about a father playing catch in the backyard in the summer with his son that is irreplaceable, no matter what steroids or football have to say about it. The context is therefore established that baseball stars are held to a higher level than others, whether they like it or not. Cal Ripken was my childhood hero; a man who never took a day off no matter how badly his body hurt and always gave his all as much as he wanted to call in sick. He was a true role model for a generation in the same way as Pete Rose and Shoeless Joe Jackson were the antithesis of the role model for their generations. As Bonds prepares to enter the Hall of Fame as either the number 1 or 2 home run hitter of all time, we must step back and reflect upon his place in American Culture. Until this year, I was in Bonds corner in a big way, as I chose to believe in his greatness as an all-around player who was about to pass a white man as the greatest left handed hitter of all time. Until I opened my eyes to the fact that Bonds is now twice the size of the player I saw on the Pittsburgh Pirates in my youth who surprisngly had the same name. Barry Bonds was always a great hitter, but with his probable abuse of steroids, all those doubles have turned into home runs and now Bonds threatens records set by men who didn’t cheat and who were role models for generations of Americans, including the generation that won World War II. I continued to back Bonds until today when, addressing the media, Bonds told the members of the press to clean out the skeletons in their closets until they attack his; an admission of guilt no matter how you choose to look at it. I would not be so upset except for the cultural context of Bonds accomplishments. In a country that worships baseball heroes, what message does it sent to the youth that the man about to acheive immortality threatened his own life by cheating? In my lifetime, I learned a valuable lesson by watching Cal Ripken acheive immortality through grit and determination. The message that Bonds delivered that disturbed me the most, however, was the message that he was subject to such scrutiny because he was a black man about to pass Ruth, a white man, in the record books. As a person who wheres a 1970’s Atlanta Braves cap to recognize the acheivement of Henry Aaron when he broke the original home run record of Babe Ruth and received a standing ovation as a black man in the Deep South, I was extremely offended by this statement. The most important thing that baseball gives us is a cultural context. Jackie Robinson’s appearance and magnificient performance in MLB signified the absolute destruction of deeply held racist sentiments in America. Cal Ripken’s consecutive games streak blatantly showed American the value of hard work and perserverance. Lou Gherig’s famous speech in Yankee Stadium the day he retired allowed us to recognize the blessings we experience in our everyday lives. Roberto Clemente’s death in a plane crash as he was on humanitarian mission to deliver supplies to his native Puerto Rico showed us the insignificance of a game and the significance of living to improve the lives of our fellow human beings. Baseball is more than a game. It is a reflection of our culture and our culture reflects it. No, Barry, the scrutiny of your record does not have anything to do with you, your skin color, or the tabloid media of our contemporary society. It has everything to do with the way that you have let down our society in ways that disgrace the mystique given to our pastime by honest men like Lou Gherig, Roberto Clemente, and Ted Williams.

BRENDAN SANSIVERO