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They probably also know him as a steroid cheat.
For the uneducated, let's start with some back story.
Barry was a good--perhaps great would be a better word--player from 1986 to 1999. Then he suddenly embiggened himself and started thumping the shit out of the ball, hitting 49 homers in 2000 and a record-setting 73 in 2001. That he did it with help from steroids is for most people an obvious conclusion, as players don't suddenly have the best years of their career after playing for 13 years. That's when decline starts, not sudden improvement.
A perplexing question for many is why Barry turned to steroids. He would have been a potential Hall of Fame candidate if he'd retired in 2000 instead of ballooning into a gigantic home run monster. Continuing his career for a few more years with his usual .300ish average, 30 home runs per season, etc. would have made it a lock. So if he's on pace for a Hall of Fame career and has already made enough money to be rich as all hell, why bother with the steroids?
I propose the following "what if" scenario:
What if Barry Bonds is actually a hero who sacrificed his own legacy to put an end to the steroid era?
It's 1999, and Barry has just seen Mark McGwire break the single season home run record. McGwire, Sammy Sosa, Brady freaking Anderson of all people, and countless others are jacking 50, 60, 65 homers per season now like it's nothing. Barry looks at his 13 years of being a consistent hitter with decent power, base-stealing skill, and respectable fielding.
He sees that no one cares. All they care about is home runs.
Now, Barry hits plenty of home runs. As I've mentioned, his 30 or so per year were enough to qualify him before the steroid era as a viable home run threat. But that's not enough. He's one of the best players in the game but he's being ignored in favor of one-trick ponies whose only skill is injecting themselves with Gila monster venom and smashing home runs halfway to Australia.
He sees the way the game is going and realizes that, if unchecked, the game he loves will turn into a crapfest and stay that way forever. Something must be done.
"I'm one of the most skilled hitters there are," he thinks. "Give me some of that muscle juice and I'll not only be a better contact hitter but a better home run hitter than every single player in the game. I'm good enough already that with the proper pharmaceutical assistance, I can fuck up the record books so bad that people will have no choice but to pull the blinders from their eyes that have allowed them to pretend they don't know what's happening to baseball.
"For a while, people will love me. I'll be a hero in my hometown, I'll sign a mega-millions contract, and I'll have my name in all the record books. But it'll come with a cost. In time, I'll be vilified. I'll be hated. My already tense relationship with the press will develop into full-on hatred. Next to my name in those record books will be a big fat asterisk implying that my accomplishments were bogus. My Hall of Fame ticket will be torn up and flushed. The word 'steroids' will be synonymous with my legacy. But by God, it'll be worth it!
"Yes," says Barry. "I will free baseball from the bonds (tee hee) of steroids!"
And oh my, did he.
Barry did just as my hypothetical scenario laid it out and fucked up the record books big time.
Everyone came to their senses, baseball (mostly) cleaned itself up, and once again a "power hitter" is someone who hits 30 homers in a season--probably not 50, not 60, and definitely not 70.
Is this really what happened? Did Barry Bonds turn himself into a cautionary tale simply to save baseball from its steroid problem?
Probably not.
But what if he did?
