Sport: Going Long on Bonds

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This time around there won't be any McGwire-family love-ins at home plate. No adorably accented declarations about how wonderful the game has been to him. No Maris family watching, square-jawed and teary-eyed, from their box seats on the brink of inevitability.

San Francisco Giants left fielder Barry Bonds is on pace to bludgeon the home-run record this season, but America should not expect an invitation to hop on his bandwagon. Depending on whom you ask, Bonds is either notoriously arrogant or shy bordering on prickly, and his flaws, of which there are a few, are not the sweet, character-building ones that move Billy Crystal to filmmaking. Make no mistake, though, with 39 dingers at press time--the most in baseball history before the All-Star break--Bonds doesn't just have a chance to break Mark McGwire's 1998 record of 70; he's looking like a lock.

Not that Bonds will say so. In a virtuoso display of athlete-speak, Bonds is doing everything possible to talk down his achievements and keep the media crush at bay. "I'm not even thinking about Mark McGwire," he said before a weekend series against Mac's St. Louis Cardinals. Other variations on the theme include "You can get hit by a truck tomorrow" and "I've had hot streaks before."

True, but not convincing. "He is so locked in right now, he hits almost anything you throw him," says San Diego catcher Ben Davis, witness to Bonds' going deep seven times against the Padres. "If anyone knows how to pitch to him, let me know." Over the course of his 14-year career, according to the Elias Sports Bureau, he has averaged 1 home run per 16 at-bats before the All-Star break and 1 home run per 14.2 at-bats after. So far this season, he has averaged 1 home run per 5.6 at-bats.

Bonds has always had good power numbers, but his emergence, at 36, as the game's premier long-ball hitter is inexplicable. In 2000 the Giants moved into Pac Bell Park, whose cozy right-field dimensions (307 ft. down the foul line) were designed with Bonds' left-handed bat in mind. Still, half of his home runs this year have come on the road. "I think it's harder to hit home runs in Pac Bell than it was in Candlestick," Bonds says of the Giants' old windswept home. "If I get to 50 this year, I'll be happy." Right.

The most important new dimensions appear to belong to Bonds. Early in his career, when he was a stolen-base threat and the only player in history to be named Most Valuable Player three out of four seasons, Bonds was built like a track star. Today he's clearly bigger, listed at a defensive back-ish 230 lbs., but he insists, "I have trained the same way for the last 11 years... You can't really explain it. I come around and touch home plate and I'm in the dugout, and I'm like, 'What the hell did I just do?'"

Despite Bonds' heroics, baseball fans seem a little homered out. Maris held the record for 37 years, and suddenly there's an assault twice in four seasons? Kids think record chasing is routine; older fans wonder about juiced baseballs and lousy pitching.