Someone asked me how my blog and newspaper column came to be titled "Bleachers Brew". It's like this, it's an amalgam of sorts of two things: The bleachers area in the stadium/arena where I used to sit when I would watch baseball, football, and basketball games and Miles Davis' great jazz album Bitches Brew. That's how it got culled together. I originally planned on calling it "The View from the Big Chair" that is a nod to Tears For Fear's second album, Songs from the Big Chair. So there.

Monday, May 29, 2006

Bleachers' Brew #3 * (asterisk)

*
by rick olivares

Dear God,


Hi. It’s me, Barry. Barry Bonds. I’ve been shaken and stirred a lot lately. But I’ve kept the faith, Lord!

I know I haven’t been the most warmest of human beings. Is it my fault that I’m the best player of my generation? Now they want to penalize me coz they say that I willingly and knowingly took steroids? I’m innocent until proven guilty. But you know that, Lord God.

I thought it was a Gatorade-like thing they were pumping into me! I swear – oopss. Sorry for swearin’, Lord God almighty!

Spare me the asterisk next to my home run tally. Please. If Bud Selig places one next to my 714-and-counting, then David Stern should place one next to the Houston Rockets’ NBA titles in ’94 & ’95. God you know that if You didn’t send your avenging angel Michael Jordan out to chase curve balls then the Bulls would have won eight straight. And maybe the Russians should have an asterisk next to their 1972 Olympic Gold Medal. The Godless communists won the game after given three tries – three tries – goddamit! – oopss. Sorry. Forgive me Lord, but it’s hard keeping all these pent up emotions inside of me with all the heckling and all. You hear those Philly fans heckle me, Lord God? And they call their city the City of Brotherly Love?

How about Muhammad Ali? We all know he lost to Ken Norton in their third bout. Look here. I’m an Ali fan, and I know he done a lot for the black man. But Norton smoked his ass in that one. And Budini Brown? He knows the truth!

That’s not baseball? Okay Lord. How about Hank Aaron? He way feasted on expansion pitching that year. Yessirree, Lordy. Uh-uh. No way he faced guys like Curt Schilling, Kerry Wood, Randy Johnson, or Greg Maddux. Facing these cats and the heat they bring night after night --- why you could dislocate a shoulder just flailing at their pitches! And the Babe. God bless him. I know I ripped him in the past, but the man practically wrote the gospel of baseball. I ain’t got nuthin’ but respect for the man. But did he ever have to face the colored man? They cheered Mark McGwire, but maybe he was doped up too. Sammy Sosa? Only You would know how many corked bats he used.

I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be rippin’ nobody. Big Mac and Sammy are my homeboys after all. All this pressure of trying to help my Giants win a World Series title – and of course, since I’m hovering about Hank Aaron’s ‘hood, then I might as well go for the record. I’ll be a good boy, Lord.

Just spare me the asterisk.

Love,

Barry

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