The night before, I watched Barry's first AB (fouling out to Zimmerman, who ran after it like it was Game 7) and recorded the rest. Missed nothing. I switched over for Barry's first AB tonight. A single in the right-side gap. Missed his double. Checked the game one more time as I was heading to bed, and there he was on deck.
Right then, I wished I had one of the girls up to watch with me. I'd be a redneck dad pulling my 5-year-old out of bed near midnight, but, there she was coughing in the dining room. I called her, she sat on my lap, and we watched Barry take the count to 3-2. She was cheering. I was cheering. And he smacked that ball five rows into the RF bleachers.
She oohed and ahhed at the fireworks. I pointed out his wife and she wanted to know Barry's daughters' names. I told her Willie Mays might've been the best there ever was, and there he is. Hank Aaron showed up on the big screen – he used to have the record, but now Barry does.
Where does Barry live, she asked – in the ballpark? Not after this year, I said. Barry said thank you to everyone, the Nationals, his family and his daddy. I was glad Mean Bud wasn't there, looking like he just shit in his own cornflakes. I was glad Barry acted like a gracious baseball hero.
Is he a jerk? Yes he is. Is he a doper? Blame Bud Selig for not proving it. Tonight, Barry Bonds hit a solo home run on a full count to break a 4-4 tie. Tonight, he was a reason to celebrate baseball, and I got to share it with my baby. Thanks, Barry.
Two, three count with nobody on
He hit a high fly into the stand
Rounding third he was headed for home
It was a brown skinned handsome man
That won the game; it was a brown eyed handsome man.
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