SAN FRANCISCO–On a picturesque Saturday afternoon near the shores of the San Francisco Bay, the Giants unveiled the 49th plaque on the Wall of Fame adorning the front of AT&T Park.
So what.
The Wall of Fame is supposed to offer the organization an opportunity to honor the franchise’s greatest players, and one day, the likes of current Giants including Madison Bumgarner and Buster Posey, who linked together to spearhead three World Series runs, will join a growing list of esteemed honorees.
The requirements for a plaque? Spend nine seasons with the Giants, or play five seasons with the franchise and make at least one All-Star team.
The franchise’s last Wall of Fame ceremony came six years ago, when San Francisco honored Marvin Benard and Jason Schmidt. Riveting stuff? Yeah, right.
Schmidt enjoyed an excellent career with San Francisco, making three All-Star teams and winning the National League ERA crown with a 2.34 mark back in 2003. He carried a pitching staff through a downturn in the mid 2000s, and gave casual fans a reason to follow the team every five days.
Benard, meanwhile, was a career .271 hitter whose inclusion on the wall should tell you all you need to know about whether the Giants are honoring the cream of the crop, or passing out certificates for Major League service time.
But Saturday’s Wall of Fame ceremony had the feel of a black tie affair, and that’s because regardless of what the event stands for, the Giants’ organization and the team’s fans knew the day was about more than just a plaque.
For the first time, the Giants honored Barry Bonds, the greatest home run hitter in the history of baseball and the player who saved baseball in the city by the Bay.
Baseball fans of the last half century know Bonds as the marquee player of a generation, the most remarkable hitter of his time and perhaps the very best player to ever put on a uniform. They also know Bonds as one of the most notorious sports figures in history, a product of the game’s steroid era, and a record-holder whose accomplishments are tainted with asterisks.
And perhaps that’s why the Wall of Fame ceremony felt so different on Saturday.
Were the Giants touching the forbidden fruit by celebrating Bonds’ legacy? Surely, a large percentage of baseball fans, and nearly half of the game’s Hall of Fame voters, don’t believe Bonds deserves to assume what others feel is his rightful place in history. Though Saturday’s ceremony didn’t feature a statue unveiling, a jersey retirement or take place in upstate New York, it was the first indication that one day, those ceremonies might also take place, and Bonds will be forgiven.
By placing Bonds on the Wall of Fame, the Giants publicly called the Home Run King their own, and offered him the first glimpse of what a spot in baseball heaven looks like.
Bonds’ case for more — a jersey retirement, a statue at AT&T Park and a spot in the Hall of Fame — is viewed as a considerable gray area. Yes, Bonds was a seven-time MVP, an eight-time Gold Glove winner, a 12-time Silver Slugger award winner and a 14-time All-Star, and yes, his career is tainted by performance enhancing drugs.
Should baseball honor Bonds because he would have been a great without drugs? Should the Giants celebrate Bonds because hundreds of other players in his generation used the same performance-enhancing methods he did? Or should the game turn its back on a player who felt he needed to pursue alternative means to reach his desired end?
On Saturday, the Giants made their best case to present Bonds in black and white fashion, and what’s most remarkable is that the franchise probably didn’t realize how crystal clear they made his argument.
With former managing partner Peter Magowan and Giants’ president Larry Baer on hand on Saturday, San Francisco broadcasters Duane Kuiper and Mike Krukow began the Wall of Fame ceremony by reminding everyone in attendance of the jaw-dropping achievements Bonds recorded over 15 seasons with the franchise. But when Kruk and Kuip finished their introductions, Magowan and Baer told the tale of how Bonds’ impact on the organization goes far beyond the field.
Prior to the 1993 season, the Giants were likely headed to Tampa Bay, as an ownership group pledged to move the team away from San Francisco. A group led by Magowan stepped in, purchased the team and kept the orange and black in the same city they’ve inhabited since 1958.
But before Magowan and Co. completed their purchase, the ownership group committed to signing Bonds, the best player in the game, to come home and reinvigorate a franchise in desperate need of hope.
“I can never thank Peter (Magowan) and Larry (Baer) and this organization enough for bringing me back home,” Bonds said Saturday. “When I had the opportunity to come home, the Yankees called me up and some other teams called me up and do you want to come play and those were my options at the time. When I got the phone call from Larry and Peter and Harmon (Burns) and the organization said we’d like to sign you back here in San Francisco and we’re going to have your dad be the hitting coach and Dusty “Shake and Bake” (Baker) is going to come back and manage the team, we’re going to bring the whole tradition of this history of San Francisco back, truthfully I didn’t even know what the contract was, I was just like, I’m going home. I just want to go home, this is where I belong. This is my family.”
The rest — as everyone knows — is history. A year after the Giants went 72-90 and nearly ended up on the other side of the country, Bonds’ arrival ushered in a new era in San Francisco and the team won 103 games in his first season with the club.
The interest Bonds generated in the franchise helped the Giants finance AT&T Park, the house that Bonds built, and made baseball in the Bay a can’t miss attraction.
On Saturday, fellow Wall of Fame inductees Rich Aurilia and Kirk Rueter said they hope Bonds’ next ceremony will take place in Cooperstown. Hall of Famer Willie McCovey said Bonds was the greatest hitter he’s ever watched. And then, Bonds’ idol and godfather, Willie Mays, had the last word.
“If you give him love, he’ll give it back to you twice,” Mays said.
The city of San Francisco gave Bonds love, and over a decade and a half, Bonds poured his heart out and gave it back.
If the Giants and the game of baseball do this right, the Wall of Fame is just a start. And Bonds, not surprisingly, already knows that. He knows his circle of baseball life won’t be complete until his No. 25 is retired alongside his godfather Mays’ No. 24.
“I deserve to be with Willie,” Bonds said. “That’s what I’ve worked hard for and I won’t accept anything less.”
Whether Bonds’ brashness rubs you the wrong way, as it did with many teammates during his playing career, shouldn’t matter. Whether his steroid use bothers you, as it does for so many baseball fans, shouldn’t ultimately matter, either.
Because Bonds didn’t just hit 762 home runs. Bonds saved the game of baseball in San Francisco. And for that, the Wall of Fame should be just the start of a richly rewarding step toward the ceremonies that matter most.
There’s 317 elected members of the Baseball Hall of Fame, 11 Giants with retired numbers, and five players whose statues surround AT&T Park. But there’s only one Barry Bonds.
And whether the game of baseball and the San Francisco Giants decide to honor him or not, anyone who watched Bonds play knows — whether they’ll admit it or not — that Bonds belongs with the sport’s very best.