In Bed With Barry Bonds

ESPiN opened her eyes, shaking away a night's sleep and rolling over on her pillow. She watched Barry as he continued his slumber, dreams of baseball immortality no doubt dancing through his mind's eye, as usual. And like every other morning, ESPiN began the day by wondering if the pillows had gotten smaller, or if Barry's head had swelled since they first met years ago.

Back then, being with Barry was something to boast about. She used to brag about how he'd see her exclusively. She used to talk about his exploits to all of her girlfriends until they demanded to hear tales of Barry's greatness at every lunch date and morning Starbucks run.

Occasionally — and this was nothing ESPiN was proud of, mind you — she would use Barry's image and his fame for her own profit. This became difficult when she'd turn her ire towards Barry, because Barry has a knack for drawing such emotions from even the most tempered souls. His egomania was infuriating. His disdain for certain social settings insulting. And his particular lack of concern for rules and regulations was disturbing — especially those he felt unfairly inhibited his growth as a professional.

To tell the truth, there weren't a whole hell of a lot of people who liked Barry — yet those same people loved hearing about him, and appreciated the significance of his existence. ESPiN knew that, too. So despite her grumblings and her moralistic stands and her constant bemoaning of his flaws, she was always the first one to remind her friends that Barry was hers and that it made her somewhat more important than if he wasn't.

But this was nothing ESPiN was proud of, mind you.

She rolled on to her back and stared at the ceiling, thinking about the greatest and worst thing that had ever shared her bed.

And she wondered when he'd leave.

***

That Barry Bonds would have a weekly reality TV show on ESPN shouldn't surprise anyone, because he's practically had one for the last several years. "SportsCenter" replays every home run he hits, and every cantankerous press conference he gives. The screaming-head newspaper columnist shows debate what pills he's taking, what drugs he's injecting, and whether he's deserving of the accolades he receives — and that ultimate honor he could earn with roughly 50 more swings of his bat.

Perhaps no other athlete has captured the imagination of sports fans in as many different ways as Bonds. We marvel at his athleticism and disapprove of his artifice. We smile at his accomplishments and scowl at his attitude. We understand his place in the game's history, but don't understand whether he deserves it.

At the same time, no other modern-day athlete has encapsulated the tremendous conflicts in any ESPN interest. He's at once the lead story, the main target, the worshiped hero, the hated villain, and one of the most sure-fire gate attractions in professional sports. There's no way to ignore the fact that Bonds has been very good to ESPN in each of these roles, whether it's as a promotional tent pole for prime-time baseball games or as a talking point on "PTI."

But there are times when these traits intersect in a way that leaves ESPN completely red-faced. Like back in 2001, when Bonds was chasing Mark McGwire's still-fresh single season home run record. The taint of steroid abuse had already begun sweeping over baseball, and the modern home run records had all but been conceded to performance-enhanced players. Bonds pursued the home run record with a fraction of the national interest that was focused on McGwire and Sammy Sosa back in 1998. Perhaps if Barry had cracked 50 homers in any of the 15 years leading up to his record mark of 73, fans wouldn't have been so quick to assume his power was born in a lab.

Yet ESPN covered Bonds's assault on the record with the same attention and overkill as it had the 1998 chase. It broke into coverage on its various networks to show every Bonds at-bat it could. And while the rest of the media questioned the validity of his feats, ESPN championed another cause in its non-stop coverage: the intentional walks teams were giving Bonds, which, of course, were bad for business. Leave that steroid stuff to the conspiracy theorists. Pitchers walking the best slugger in baseball — now that's a story!

Fast forward five years, and ESPN is still in the Barry Bonds Business. This reality show has already managed to infuriate local media in San Francisco, including Bruce Jenkins of the San Francisco Chronicle:

"So the Giants willingly climb in bed with a very sleazy concept, and worst of all, Bonds' teammates will be directly affected. They fully understand that Bonds is the show, and without him, they go nowhere. But if you're wearing the Giants uniform and a Bonds-starved ESPN camera crew is cramping your style in the clubhouse, week after week, while not caring one bit about you or anyone else on the team, it's just a little demeaning. They must find it especially appalling that management doesn't give a damn."

How dire is the emotional situation for the Giants' clubhouse? So dire that a 6-foot-2, 230-pound man, who previously had shown the kind of humility typically associated with Paris Hilton ripping up a parking ticket, became a drag-queen version of Paula Abdul for an "American Idol" spoof at Giants spring training. One of the Giants slipped up in an interview later in the day and said it was good to see that Barry could come down to the other players' level and have some fun.

Someone should probably tell him that Barry was just looking for some footage for the opening credits of his ESPN show.

***

The real jaw-dropping consequence of the reality project is that reporters who want one-on-one interviews with Bonds during the season will have to sign waivers with the show's production company so their interviews can be used on the show. Any reporter who refuses would not have the honor of interviewing Mr. Bonds in a mano-y-mano setting.

So, evidently, along with being in the Business of Barry Bonds, ESPN is now in the business of repressing First Amendment rights.

The network was quick to save face after this news broke. When the AP story ran on ESPN.com, it included this caveat:

"ESPN Original Entertainment, an entity separate from ESPN's news operation, is working with Bonds for a behind-the-scenes look at his quest for baseball's all-time home run record. ESPN said Friday its reporters would not sign the waiver."

Well, of course they wouldn't. Why should any reporter on ESPN think he or she is going to get something more substantial than what the multiple cameras will get from Barry for the reality show? And would it be in ESPN's best interests for Pedro Gomez to break news before it appears on a primetime edition of "American Barry" or whatever it's called?

Perhaps the most pathetic thing about the disclaimer above is the part about ESPN's news operations and ESPN Original Entertainment being separate entities. It's amazing how a network that's redefined corporate synergy can now claim media independence. I'm pretty sure "Season on the Brink" and that Dale Earnhardt movie were mentioned on ESPNews a few times, weren't they?

***

Back in bed, ESPiN tossed and turned, careful not to wake up Barry as he continued his peaceful slumber. Her mind flooded with contradictions, her nerves wracked with guilt. She remembered Vince Doria, a senior vice president and director of news, claiming that he and his organization "want to be thought of, first and foremost, as objective journalists." Then she recalled George Solomon, the man hired to keep those journalists objective, offering this advice: "My suggestion to ESPN would have been what I'd tell NBC News if it wanted to do a reality show with Donald Rumsfeld: 'don't.'"

Her eyes wandered to the alarm clock, which ticked another minute ahead. ESPiN said a silent prayer for it to speed up. "It'll all end one day," she thought. "Either he breaks a damn record or he breaks his damn leg. It'll all end one day, and then I can get on with my life."

She turned back to Barry as he slept. ESPiN knew it would be just a matter of time until the cameramen and the boom ops and the directors crashed into the room for another day chronicling Barry's life. He'll soon leave the bed, leave the house and head to the park. One day, when the final chapter of his story is written, she knew he wouldn't come back.

Well, until he gets his plaque, that is.

ESPiN didn't seem to mind. As long as she had a bed this large, she was confident there'd always be someone new to share it with.

Greg Wyshynski is the Features Editor for SportsFan Magazine in Washington, DC, and the Senior Sports Editor for The Connection Newspapers of Northern Virginia. His book "Glow Pucks and 10-Cent Beer: The 101 Worst Ideas in Sports History" will be published in spring 2006. His columns appear every Saturday on Sports Central. You can e-mail Greg at [email protected].