If you were one of the Americans who tuned into the overnight version of Disneyland Sports to flag down some highlights of Ryan Howard muscling up twice last night vs. the Florida Martians, you were probably bummed (as a lot of us were) that there was wall-to-wall Bonds nonsense on the telly.
We call it "nonsense" because it was nearly THREE WEEKS AGO when Bonds broke Aaron's U.S. record for career homers with Nos. 761 and 762 during that fun-filled, asterisk-ish fiesta at Wrigley.
Hence, last night's hullabaloo in 'Frisco seemed superfluous.
Especially when we don't know the fate of the six coal miners trapped inside the collapsed mine in Utah.
Did those miners pass the time one mile underground by watching Bonds on their cellphones equipped with podcast technology?
America prays that they are alive because we all remember how so many baseball fans were deprived of a "Barry-bration" back in '01 when Atta's crew crashed those jumbo jets into the Twin Towers and the Pentagon.
Luckily, Barry was there for America in its darkest hour ... uniting a nation by using his plutonium-enriched Sam Bat to whack uranium-filled baseballs.
Seventy-three times Bare would CREAM a pitch and watch it CLEAR the fence as he stood at home plate, watched the drive, did a moonwalk, offered a shimmy-shake of the hips or signaled "touchdown!" before taking the slow trot around the bases, the tin of Copenhagen jiggling in his right rear pocket and the mini-crucifix jangling from his left ear lobe.
America was led to believe that Cal saved The MLB in '95 -- and that Big Mac and Sammy re-saved the game in '98 ... but those beliefs are baseless.
Since Barry hit 73, there has been no anti-USA attack on U.S. soil by Atta-like evil-doers.
That's because BareRoid educated us about facing our fears, usually doing so by beginning a sentence with, "Dude ..."
It stands to reason that if anyone can save those trapped coal miners, it's Big Bare.
America will hold its breath -- if not for the coal miners than for Big Bare breaking Sadaharu Oh's world record of 868 homers sometime next week.
He's THAT good.
"Trapped coal miners ... use your flashlights to bang on a pipe and signal to America how geeked you are about Bonds LoveFest '07 ..."
What's truly sad about those miners trapped in a world of darkness and despair is that they must feel like they're a million miles away from an America wherein everybody received their new issue of Sports Illustrated today ... the one with Bare on the cover.
One day after Bonds hits Actual Homer #765, S.I. has a cover shot of Bonds hitting Actual Homer #764.
The safety of those miners depends on rescue workers putting down their new S.I.'s long enough to perform the necessary diggin' n' drillin'.
"Miners down below ... send us a sign if you want America to send down to you today's S.I. with Barry on the cover or if you want fresh drinking water sent down ..."
Anyhow, one thing America is coming to realize is that a special #765 party w/o Rod Beck is a celebration which feels empty. We see that #47 BECK patch on Bonds' shirt sleeve and we're reminded of the reports which surfaced early last week that Shooter had a mighty bad cocaine addiction.
Whispereth The MLB: "Shhhhhhhhhh!"
Speaking of what we're not supposed to talk about, "sure" ... many Americans were dispappointed that Greg Anderson and Kimberly Bell didn't bother showing up for last night's gala.
On the other hand, when we see what a wonderful young man Nikolai (the first guy to greet Bonds at home plate) has become, we're glad that his mother, Sun, was there to raise the boy when Barry and Kimberly were on the road and saving the world from those Atta-like bastards.
Dude, it's about family, dude.
In the end, "yeah" ... there's probably a role as a backup for Barry on America's All-Time All-Stars, but only to offer late-inning ABs in case Teddy Ballgame or the Iron Horse -- two players w/ higher career slugging percentages than Bonds (.634 to .632 to .604) -- get injured or if Rickey's bein' Rickey and has to come out of the game.
The good thing about the non-Gammons regions of America is that most of the non-Gammonsistas are too smart to compare Bonds to Williams, Gehrig or Henderson.
Those players changed games.
Similarly, it's kinda fun to ponder Gehrig playing in the '90s. He'd be dying of arteriolateral sclerosis, but with some num-nums cooked up at Balco, the incontrovertible projections which we have formulated in this paradigm have Gehrig hitting anywhere from 103 to 117 homers per season.
Imagine a Gehrig who WASN'T dying of ALS gettin' some candy from the BALCO candyland.
The math sez: "Anywhere from 132 to 143 homers per."
With time enough to save trapped coal miners on the way home to his beloved Eleanor ...