Words of Fury, With Mad Adam

Your honor, Mad Adam does not rest his case. Resting is not in his vocabulary. But he is finished.

Big Heads and Small Balls

Remember when Barry Bonds was a big deal?  The public hung on his every swing as he muscled his way past Babe Ruth and ultimately Hank Aaron.  I remember being in beautiful Dodger Stadium in July of 2007 watching the Dodgers duel with the Giants, and there were so many flash bulbs going off when Bonds was at bat that I was blinded from drinking in the visual treats of Chavez Ravine. ESPN’s reporters seemed to be contractually obligated to never be more than a Louisville Slugger away from big bad Barry.

Now?  Well, Barry seems like a bad nightmare.  He has been black-balled by MLB ownership, banished to the annals of history even when everyone knows he had a least a couple more years of DH duty in him.  No one talks about him.  When he shows up to Giants game as a spectator, he is treated like an honored guest.  An honored guest that let out a big fart at dinner, but no one wants to point out his flatulent faux pas, so they just ignore him and talk to their other tablemates instead.

As a result of sporting America’s collective decision to turn a blind eye to Barry Bonds, most people are missing out some of the funniest courtroom drama since Kato Kaelin took the stand at OJ’s trial.  In case you missed it, Bonds long delayed federal trial for lying to a grand jury began this week in a United States District Court in San Francisco.  The crowds in the wooden pews in the courtroom have apparently been sparse.  Long and tedious direct and cross-examinations about the minutiae of the chemical make-up of anabolic steroids will have that effect.

But, for those who have suffered through the boring stuff, the rest of the testimony has been riveting.  You want violence?  How about Bonds’ mistress Kim Bell’s accusation that Bonds repeatedly threatened her, telling her, among other things, that he would cut off her head and throw it in a ditch, cut out the boob job implants he bought her and that he would burn down the house he bought her.  Anger management problems…check.

You want intrigue?  There has been testimony from former Giants head trainer Stan Conte that Bonds did not trust Giant personnel in the locker room and sought to have many of them fired.  Paranoia…. check.

You want back acne?  This trial has it.

You want shrunken balls?  Oh yeah, Kim Bell says Bonds has those.

You want big heads?  Read about the testimony from Bonds’ trial that his melon size (and shoe size) increased exponentially in the span of just a few years.

Have you always wondered the difference between “girlfriend cities” and “wife cities?”  The lid has been blown off that secret.  Don’t expect any thank you cards from your former teammates on that one Barry.

You want questions about what is happening in the bedroom?  Plenty of questions have been raised about what Greg Anderson, Bonds’ personal trainer, and Bonds were doing in a whole series of bedrooms with syringes and black bags.

Do you like scathing cross-examination?  You know, vitriolic questioning that ends with responses like, “YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!!!”  Well, Bonds’ lead defense attorney Allen Ruby has not been verbally sparring with Colonel Nathan Jessup, but he is making mincemeat pies out of the credibility of the Government’s key witnesses.

You want alleged blackmail of Tom Cruise, Playboy pictures, back-stabbing, broken childhood friendships, drugs, infidelity, syringes, Giambi brothers, witnesses in jail, secret recordings and an inside look at how MLB owners looked the other way while testosterone infused druggies took a gigantic shit on the cherished record books of America’s former pastime?

Check, check, check, check….wash, rinse and repeat.  It’s all here.  If only we still cared.

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