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Now it's the New York Mets, and in reality it makes sense that Barry Bonds's return to the game — which appears less far-fetched than, say, four months ago — should come with a big-market team desperate for a postseason boost.
It should not come with the Tampa Bay Rays or any team in a similar situation.
Cliff Floyd has spent only weeks as a member of the Rays, but he wasn't speaking out of turn the other day when he looked around in a clubhouse full of callow teammates and said "they've gotten rid of all the bull."
This is conventional wisdom and reason alone to wonder about what some have perceived as being the strangest story of spring training. The Rays: young, vaguely Expos-ish to those of us who remember them — and to players such as Floyd who were part of the Expos' halcyon development days.
A fun group to watch play with a breathtaking prospect in Evan Longoria. A franchise that is taking deliberate steps in an uncertain political and economic climate toward getting a ballpark built in St. Petersburg, a park that, based on its plans and scenic locale, could be easily among the top six in baseball. The Rays, a team you probably don't want to be playing in 2009, sending out signals they're interested in Bonds after they've dispatched Elijah Dukes and cleaned out assorted other ne'er-do-wells.
Exit b.s. Enter b.s.
The story was at least 80-per-cent spring-training fluff, and more the result of the idle musings of a manager and general manager. No harm done. But Bonds's name will continue to surface until some club signs him.
Pick a club, any club, stick Bonds's name in the fourth or fifth spot in the batting order and sit back and dream. That club, however, must be prepared for two things:
- The distraction presented by having a player tied to a grand jury (Bonds's next court date is scheduled for March 21);
- The knowledge that the federal investigation into baseball steroids problem is now, clearly, far from over.
This is the problem with Bonds or anybody mentioned in the Mitchell report: Nobody knows what else lies ahead.
There is no hiding if you're Bonds — or if you want to employ him. It would take a club with a great deal of veteran moxie and experience dealing with the spotlight to handle the situation, a club that is a little bit cynical, but also one that has been tested and taken the measure of those doing the testing.
But beyond that, it will also take a team unafraid to torch whatever political capital it has with commissioner Bud Selig, who can't blackball a player but can certainly indicate his displeasure.
That's another reason for a club such as the Rays to stay away from Bonds: Selig and his lieutenants are on a bit of a winning streak when it comes to getting ballparks built.
They are sometimes vilified for it by the accidental tourists in the court of public opinion, but the fact is they've pulled the right political levers and thrown their weight around at the right time. That's one reason the Florida Marlins are closer than ever to getting a new ballpark. That's something nobody thought would happen three years ago.
A team like the Mets would be the perfect place for Bonds, and even though their general manager, Omar Minaya, says it's all bunk, nobody should believe his protests.
So, too, would the Chicago White Sox or Chicago Cubs. It may take time, but the allure of Bonds's bat will most likely be too much for some club not to bite.
And who knows? Based on the way Roger Clemens seems to be sinking into legal quicksand, Bonds might be on the verge of at least temporarily losing his position as the best actor in this mess. Wait around long enough to sign Bonds, and you might find yourself with some cover.
