The whole Barry Bonds thing...

...is really, really, really getting old.

Now the latest revelations have hit bookshelves and journalists are gooing gah gah goo goo over a fresh chance to rip Barry Bonds for destroying the integrity of the game.

Now, let's be honest, these journalists are just human beings with mere mortal powers and abilities that could never compare to anything ever granted to a professional baseball player, and their jealousy is so blatantly apparent it is maddening and sickening.

Not for one single, little, insignificant moment do I believe Barry Bonds was not using steriods of one sort, nor for one single moment do I believe he was doing it unknowingly.

But, for the love of God, where were these journalists years ago during the great home run race of 1998 and Barry's cruise to 70 in 2001? Mark McGuire devoured andro like it was candy and the majority of journalists DIDN'T have a problem with it - and the proof was IN HIS LOCKER. However, now that a surly, unfriendly man with loads of talent has chosen to get even better, the journalists are savaging him without any concrete proof.

I'm not willing to claim it is racism that is motivating these journalists as some are, however - I think the clear motivation is something simpler - ripping Barry Bonds and steroids in general is currently chic and in 1998, reclaiming baseball as America's Pasttime was currently chic. Back then, the steroids didn't matter because they didn't want them to be a stain on the game.

Today, when there is nothing else to talk about, they can't wait for it to stain the game.

Baseball on TV - it's like manna from heaven...

Oh, what a beautiful thing.

Last night I am flipping through the channels and lo and behold, what do I find but on Fox Sports Midwest, the Twins are playing the Red Sox in both squad's first exhibition game.

From Watching Torii Hunter destroy a Jon Papelbon hanging breaking ball to seeing Joe Mauer turn on an inside fastball that would jam most players (true, it was thrown by Rudy Seanez, who I believe turned 40 in 1952) and knock it out of the park, it was like the last days of October all over again and as if baseball didn't take the great four month slumber called the offseason.

Santana looked great, Silva looked great, and Gabe White...well...he is Gabe White. Some things never change.

All in all, bats were swinging, balls were being caught, umps were yelling out strikes and balls, hot dogs were being ingested and all was right with life again.

Oh, what a beautiful thing.