Bonds Dared Gov't to Indict Him

Nov. 15, 2007 — -- Barry Bonds has played his last game, worn his last major league uniform, defied the truth for the last time. His baseball career came to a wrenching, unfulfilled, but fitting end the exact moment he was indicted on charges of perjury and obstruction of justice Thursday afternoon.

This is more damaging than an asterisk. This is potential jail time. This is substantial fines. This becomes Bonds' true legacy.

The government says Bonds lied during his federal grand jury testimony four years ago. Those alleged (and I use the word only to be polite) lies impeded the federal investigation. What, Bonds thought the feds would just forget about the laughable flaxseed oil defense?

An attorney with a long history of dealing with the feds once told me that you never, ever lie to their investigators or to their grand juries. If you do -- and they figure it out -- the feds will be as unrelenting as Bonds was in his chase of Henry Aaron's all-time home run record.

It's safe to say that the government wouldn't have waited this long to indict Bonds unless it was certain it had enough for a conviction or a plea bargain. That doesn't guarantee the feds will get either one, but generally speaking, you don't go after the game's home run leader and his considerable legal team without a certain degree of confidence.

"You don't get in trouble unless you do something wrong," said Kevin Ryan, the former lead prosecutor for the BALCO case. "There was an opportunity for him to help the investigation, but he chose a path that led him to this point.

"I'm not surprised by this indictment."

What a dismal day for baseball and for anyone who paid good money to watch Bonds hit who knows how many home runs with the benefit of performance-enhancing drugs in his body. The shame of it all is that his natural talent would have been enough. But according to the indictment, Bonds couldn't resist what the syringes -- or "the clear" or "the cream" -- could provide.

Of course, I think Bonds cheated. I've thought it ever since I read and re-read the damning book, "Game of Shadows." I've thought it ever since I saw Bonds become a human Transformer, his body going from 180 pounds or so as a college player, to 185 or so pounds as a Pittsburgh Pirate, to 240 … 250 pounds as a San Francisco Giant (the perfect nickname for his bizarre physique). I've thought it ever since Bonds' personal trainer, Greg Anderson, took a vow of silence, no matter how long he had to stay in prison.