He's Great. Why Does He Have to Be Good?

He's just another guy at home plate." that's what Anaheim Angels pitcher Francisco Rodriguez was saying about the San Francisco Giants' superman left fielder, Barry Bonds, before the start of the California World Series. Yeah, and Einstein was pretty good with numbers too.

Rodriguez, 20, now known as K-Rod by virtue of his strikeout prowess, has reason to feel confident. He has all of about a month of big-league experience, but it has been a sensational month for him--and a sensational year for his team. The Angels finished two games from last in their division a year ago, and despite winning this year's American League wild-card spot, they figured to go quietly against the mighty Yankees. Instead, the Halos trounced New York and then the Minnesota Twins, turning Disneyland into the second most popular attraction in Orange County, behind Edison International Field.

While young Rodriguez was getting his baseball education in the minor leagues, Bonds was teaching a graduate course in power offense. Baseball's stat packers have called his 2001 season one of the best ever. At 37, Bonds hit 73 home runs, breaking Mark McGwire's record. Not only did Bonds hit more dingers, he needed 33 fewer at bats to do it. And he walked 177 times, breaking Babe Ruth's record for perambulation.

This year the lefty Bonds didn't go deep as often--"only" 46 times--but he topped the majors in hitting, at .370, and his on-base percentage of .582 broke the league record set by Ted Williams in 1941. Bonds walked 198 times, breaking his own mark from the year before. He sees a good pitch about as often as he sees his dentist, which makes his performance even more remarkable. He's a great fielder too, with eight Gold Gloves to go along with a record four (and soon to be five) Most Valuable Player awards. By some measures, Bonds has surpassed his godfather, Willie Mays, and ranks as the second best player ever, behind Ruth.

And in that pairing lies a point. Ruth, the Sultan of Swat, owned baseball's record books and mythology for 50 years after his career ended. The legend was of a hardscrabble son of a saloonkeeper with a big heart who loved kids and was worshipped by his fans. Ruth was all of that, but he also set prodigious marks in beer guzzling and womanizing.

Bonds, on the other hand, suffers the rap as the dark star of baseball's universe, a sullen, selfish man unloved by his teammates. Unlike Ruth, he has no adoring press and has never tried to craft a nice-guy public persona the way media masters like Michael Jordan have done. Bonds' dyspeptic relationship with reporters--he doesn't trust them, fancy that--has sent them digging for dirt.

Certainly the wary, introverted Bonds hasn't helped himself. He refuses to worship in the cathedral where baseball tries to place itself and instead continually refers to the sport as a business. And Bonds is all business. He keeps himself in superb shape and is fanatical about a healthy diet. Most players fade in their mid-30s; he has got better.