Hosed, No Matter What
Bud Selig couldn't win, but at least he could've looked better.
Allow me to explain.
The inevitable happened Saturday night in San Diego as Barry Bonds hit his 755th career homer, in front of baseball's reigning commissioner and a jammed house in San Diego. I heard it on the radio. Selig witnessed it in person.
No one cares about me, but it seems everyone has a take on the commish.
Some insist he needed to be there, if not to honor Bonds' controversial achievement, then to respect the game by acknowledging the fact that one of its most cherished records was changing hands.
Others say that, by showing up, he's admitting that Bonds mark is legit despite the steroid allegations that dogged him the last five years or so.
All seem to agree he couldn't have looked worse after the ball went over the wall...sitting passively while virtually everyone in the park stood--some to cheer, others to boo. Selig appeared to be catatonic, his jaw occasionally slackened as if caught between a yawn and a stroke. A man sitting in front of him apparently suggested that Selig should at least get out of his chair and rise to his feet, which the commissioner did, only to stand with hands in pockets, avoiding eye contact and talking to no one.
Once Selig agreed to be there, he HAD to have a plan in mind in the event Bonds lived up to his end of the deal. He MUST'VE given some thought to what he would do after the hit. He NO DOUBT knew the camera would come to him as Bonds circled the bases to catch his reaction. Would Selig cheer? Boo? Leave? Start "The Wave"?
Instead, he came a knuckle short of picking his nose.
I respect Selig's loyalty to his friend, Hank Aaron. I admire what he's done for the game. I agree with most of his moves as commissioner. I think he should be there when number 756 clears the wall, too. My only suggestion?
A skybox, with deeply tinted windows.