The Gifts of and from Barry Bonds

Later today, I’ll head to the house that Barry Bonds built. You read that right. Oracle Park—formerly Pacific Bell Park, SBC Park, and AT&T Park—would not have risen from the shores of China Basin in San Francisco’s SoMa district without the home run king. While many played a role in bringing this gem of a ballpark to life, failing to recognize #25 as the central figure is shortsighted. Furthermore, Bonds does not become the home run king without his father, Bobby and his Godfather, Willie Mays. Both men were outstanding players who shaped Barry in a different way. And the interview of Barry Bonds by KNBR's Murph and Marcus on the one-year anniversary of the Say Hey Kid's passing offers wonderful insight into their influence, impact and Sports and Spirituality.

To know Barry Bonds, follow Barry Bonds and listen to Bonds on Bonds is an exercise in question and conflict, grace and discord. I love him and I don't know what to do with him. I recently got into a heated argument with a friend who wanted to know if I think Bonds will be in the MLB Hall of Fame. His inquiry is one many people ask. It was however, the spirit behind the question that made me uncomfortable and defensive. Barry's my guy and yet, he's not. What to do?

I believe it’s an act of generosity to see someone at their best. At the same time, it’s foolish to ignore a person’s wisdom or fail to learn from their greatness. But it’s equally unwise to dismiss the past, excuse bad behavior, or overlook selfish choices and ulterior motives. The truth is, I don’t know Barry Bonds personally—he’s not a colleague or a friend. He’s a public figure, a fourteen time All-Star, seven time MVP and, as noted here, someone who helped make something very special in San Francisco possible. Somehow, I’m able to hold all of that—his brilliance, his flaws, and his impact—at once.

When Barry signed with the San Francisco Giants in 1993, he intended to wear #24, the number he wore for most of his time with the Pittsburgh Pirates, and the number worn by his Godfather, Willie Mays. 

Mays actually gave his blessing for Bonds to wear #24. However, there was a public outcry and media commotion surrounding the idea of unretiring what has long been associated with the Say Hey Kid. 

Ultimately, Bonds decided to wear number 25 in honor of his father, Bobby Bonds, who also wore number 25 during his time with the Giants. Bobby Bonds was a teammate of Mays and also served as a mentor to Barry. 

No doubt Willie gave Barry much more than literally the number off of his back. As noted in the interview, he gave Barry both permission and encouragement to surpass his record of 600 home runs. He gave him the support and love that at times was elusive from his own father, Bobby. 

To wrap up the interview Brian Murphy said "one year ago we lost Willie, right away—what is your favorite favorite story, memory, instant anecdote. What do you think about?

"My Godfather. That's it" said Bonds.

Murphy responded, "watching the game?"

"No."

"Hanging out on the back porch?"

"No, said Bonds. I have one thing of Willie's, and it's a picture of him and me. But the greatest gift that I ever got from my Godfather is him saying "I will be your Godfather. There's no greater gift I could ever have."

I heard these words and paused. I can't believe it took watching an interview of Barry Bonds for me to realize the importance of my own Godmother and my own role as one. What were all Godparents and Godchildren to understand, appreciate and hold this simple truth? Might we live that role differently? Would be appreciate our Godparents more? 

Part of why baseball fans love the game is that it moves at a pace different than other sports. There is action and inaction in baseball. Its cadence allows for us to stand up and cheer, sit down and look around. We have space to think and ponder, recall and reminisce. Today I will take the words, the lesson and insights from Bonds with the me to the yard—grateful that he is a key reason I can sit in View Reserved, Row 16, Seat 5.

photo credits
Bond and Bonds
Laughing with Willie

Life in Five Senses: Two Stories of Voice Recognition

Have you ever voice recognized someone? Bring this question to your Thanksgiving table (or next social gathering). I wonder what people will say.

After voice recognizing 5 SF Giants, I got them to sign my Spanish workbook

When I speak of voice recognizing a person, I am not alluding to anything technical or as formal as its definition: "a deep learning technique used to identify, distinguish, and authenticate a particular person’s voice. It evaluates an individual’s unique voice biometrics, including frequency and flow of pitch, and natural accent. Although the terms “voice recognition” and “speech recognition” are often used interchangeably, they are distinct: Speech recognition recognizes spoken words; voice recognition identifies the speaker (arm.com). No. Voicing recognizing a person means that you recognize a person, unassisted, by the sound of their voice. 

I would argue everyone has done this—whether or not we are aware of it. For example, ladies: How many times have you been in a large dressing room and heard someone yell out "Mom?!" How is it that the right woman always responds? Voice recognition.

Even Jesus was in on voice recognition. In the parable about The Good Shepherd, John 10 1-4, He teaches

“Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever does not enter a sheepfold through the gate but climbs over elsewhere is a thief and a robber. 2 But whoever enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens it for him, and the sheep hear his voice, as he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out."

Indeed, Christ knew the power and import of a person's voice.

Many people admit that they don't like the sound of their voice as recorded on a phone, voicemail.  Still, everyone has their own, unique voice. Even identical twins—siblings who share the same DNA have a voice of their own. No two are the same. And, I find them fascinating. Some are deep—a baritone. Others are scratchy and shrill. Vocal fry is not becoming while folks with with good intonation sound positive, confident and pleasant.

A colleague in the Religious Studies department said, "I've always wondered What if I didn't like the sound of Jesus' voice"?' I responded by suggesting that Jesus' voice was probably neutral. 

To me, the majority of people don't have a remarkable voice; they are voice neutral. My guess is that there is a bell shaped curve when it comes to voices. Some have annoying voices: too high, too shrill, too fry and the others have great voices: resonant, distinct and attractive. Thoughts? 

Still, we know people by their voices. Obviously we know famous people by their appearance and activities, but from time to time we know a few of them by their voice, too. To voice recognize a person suggests an added level of familiarity. It means that you have heard them speak—and you may or may not know what they look like. However, the sound of their voice enables you to put two and two together.

I have but two good stories that involve voice recognition and listening to one of my favorite podcasts: Happier reminded me of the concept and my own experiences with it.

The Brett Butler Show
I was a die-hard fan of the 1989 Giants. I went to 20 games at Candlestick Park with my brother. If I didn't watch the games, I listened to them on KNBR 680 AM. The postgame show was hosted by the orange and black's centerfielder, Brett Butler. He was an excellent announcer and a great lead-off hitter.

I had a summer job at the Concord Pavilion as a "runner." In short, I would get whatever the concessions stand needed—more ice, cups, trays, etc. Some of these supplies were in "the cage" which was the backstage area. I didn't think too much about who might be backstage or what they might be doing. I needed to get from point A to point B. However, on this one night—the band Chicago was playing—I heard a voice in the darkness that I had heard many times before. I know this voice! 

I went over to the group of five men and said "Wait...wait....You're Brett Butler." He smiled and said "yes I am." And I said "and you're Terry Kennedy...and Gary Carter." I knew each one of them by name. I told them I was a big fan. I don't remember how I went from that conversation to getting them to sign my Spanish workbook, but I've kept that page all these years.

The voice gives him away
My friend Mike has a penchant for running into famous people. He never overreacts to anyone he sees. He always says "hello" like he is their next of kin.

A couple of years ago, I ran into Mike on Chestnut Street. We started talking and he said "go into that store. Barry Bonds is in there." Bonds played for the Giants from 1993-2007 and has the single season record for the most career home runs. He is arguably one of the best baseball players of all time. 

Always pumped for an athletic star sighting, I walked in and worried that I missed #25. He was no where to be found. I tried to play it cool and browse the shop but I was looking for Bonds. Suddenly, I heard his voice. It's rather high pitched and soft. It's not what you expect when you look at this former professional athlete. I recognized his voice before I saw him in plain sight. It's hard to mistake Bonds with anyone else!

Conclusion
Our voice is just another attribute of our humanity. We can know a person by many things—their hair/hair color, their gait, their height, weight and so forth. It's possible to recognize another person in so many ways, including their voice. It's life in five senses, why limit ourselves to thinking of people any differently?!

An audio version of this post is not available.

Photo Credits
Brett Butler
Good Shepherd
Barry

A Sports & Spirituality Story about 25: Barry Bonds

"Let me tell you a story about 25." —Danny Glover

Though sixteen other men have worn the jersey number 25, the last one to dawn it in for the San Francisco Giants is none other than the Home Run King, Barry Bonds. 25 now hangs with nine other numbers on the Giants own Hall of Fame. The team's CEO Larry Baer, noted that 30,176 men have worn MLB uniforms. Baer continued, “Only 199, less than six-tenths of one percent, have been so extraordinary, so etched into the story of a franchise, that it would be impossible to imagine their number ever gracing another man’s back. And that’s what we have here with Barry Bonds.” Such distinction merits a story.

Thus, on Saturday, August 11, 2018, in what was a beautiful evening in the City by the Bay, some the games' all-time greats and Giants' All-Stars were on deck to share their own story about 25. I don't doubt that every fan in the house could do the same. And, I wonder in the future when a child asks their mom or dad, aunt or uncle about 25, what story will be told? Here's the story I'd like to tell about 25—Sports and Spirituality style.

Bonds played in Major League Baseball from 1986 until 2007, coming to San Francisco in 2003 after seven seasons with the Pittsburgh Pirates. His stats are remarkable, downright breath-taking—a word I use intentionally. Take a look

• 7-time MVP
• 14-time All-Star
• 8-time Gold Glove winner
• 14-time Silver Slugger award winner
• 6 Division Titles
• 73 Home Runs: a single-season record.... One that complemented THE record:
• 762 Home Runs
• 35 Splash Hits: an HR that goes outside of Pac Bell/AT&T Park and into San Francisco Bay
• 2558 walks: (perhaps more than once) a pitcher walked Bonds with the bases loaded.

Those numbers tell a significant part of the story about 25, but it didn't end there. Glover framed things perfectly when he stated: "You know what was bigger than the records he shattered? It's the way he stole our breath with every swing." As a baseball fan, I agree. As a sports fan, I concur. And, as a Giants fan, I know. 

What intrigues me most in this story about 25 are those four words: "he stole our breath." Glover invites fans to remember those moments where we stood in utter disbelief. When all we could say was "wow!" if that. To have our breath stolen means that air—a source of life— is taken from us. There is, however, nothing pejorative about his remark. But in my story, I think otherwise.

I listened to the ceremony on KNBR 680 AM radio. It was a treat for me to imagine the events as they unfolded. My mind and heart put color—far beyond orange and black—to the celebration. I thought about AT&T Park in its glory, the left field wall ready for its newest number. I rejoiced when I heard that Giants first baseman Will Clark got a standing ovation. I was thrilled Robb Nen was in the house and not surprised that Jeff Kent wasn't. I found myself car dancing when Bonds walked through the centerfield gates to "The Next Episode." I already knew how dapper 25 would look, how fit he is—a truth confirmed by Giants announcer Jon Miller. I got choked up several times, recalling the memories of so many seasons and the reality that it is because of 25 that we now have a downtown ballpark in SF. They refer to Yankee Stadium as "the House that Ruth built," but Giants fans would be misguided if they didn't recognize our cathedral as "the House that Bonds built". And yet, as I listened to the entire ceremony, I realized that at times, it was hard to breathe...once again, it had been stolen. Part of me was uncomfortable....I found myself waiting for a shoe to drop....wondering if anyone would address the elephant in the stadium. Doubting that was even possible....

Bonds watching "Bonds on Bonds" a reality TV show that lasted 2 months

A day like August 11, 2018—a great day in San Francisco Giants history—is meant to be a day of celebration. Days like this one are not meant to be truth-telling or discerning, and yet because of that, I must admit—it felt inauthentic. And the reason that I editorialize my story in this way extends beyond my belief that Barry Bonds used anabolic steroids. To a certain degree, I fault MLB for not testing for HGH and other PEDs as the game did what it could to recover from the 1994 strike (a shortened season). Like his Godfather, I believe Bonds should be put in the Hall of Fame, with—not an asterik—but the information that Bonds' name appears in the Mitchell Report. We: the fans— those interested in the story— can make our own decisions and judgments. This chapter in 25's career is real, but what—at times was harder for me to hold—is that Bonds was a difficult teammate. Sportsmanship is not a word associated with 25. 

Many fans will offer their own story. The media is relentless and I don't really feel the need to defend them, but the image of his recliner in the designated part of the locker room or his refusal to show up for the team photo, sear my memory. The book "Love Me, Hate Me" might be unfair—it did not include Bonds as one of 500 interviews,—but from them, Sports Illustrated's sportswriter Jeff Pearlman concludes that "his reputation as an insufferable braggart, whose mythical home runs are rivaled only by his legendary ego is deserved." The book's description on Amazon adds, "Bonds inspires a like amount of passion from both sides of the fence. For many, Bonds belongs beside Babe Ruth and Hank Aaron in baseball's holy trinity; for others, he embodies all that is wrong with the modern athlete: aloof; arrogant; alienated." Perhaps Bonds could have addressed that he was, quite often, a difficult teammate. Maybe he regrets some of his choices. He wouldn't be the first or the last. Those at the center of the celebration can be humble in victory. There was space for adoration and atonement, glory and remembering those good times. I just wish he had shared a human bend to it all—flawed, fragile, broken and reborn.

I do love that swing.

The root of the word spirituality is spiritus, Latin for spirit or breath. The etymology of this word has always resonated with me and my understanding of spirituality. The spirit was alive on Saturday, August 11, 2018. At times it was made visible in the hugs, cheers and tears, smiles and the swagger. But it was also taken away as it has before with 25, for better and for worse.

Photo Credits
Bleacher Report: A GREAT summary of the day!
Behind the Scenes with BB