Just a simple flick of the wrist says it all.
If you watched the 2007 All Star Game closely, you may have seen Mr. Mays open the game by tossing balls into the stands. Riding high on the back of a convertible, “Say Hey” took great pleasure in pitching a couple of boxes of balls to adoring fans. If you watched even more closely, you may have noticed why Mr. Mays has more class in his little wrist than Barry does in his whole body.
Mr. Mays turned to pick the next ball from the box and noticed a police officer on the in-field. Mr. Mays, never one to hesitate, simply, automatically, respectfully, instinctively knew that the greatest moment in that officer’s child’s life would be to have a ball touch by giants. Real giants, not name-only giants like Bonds. Mr. Mays, in that one moment encapsulated 9/11 and the entire American psyche.
Mays threw the ball to the in-field not the stands. Never have I been more proud to be an American. Flags can’t fly high enough. Anthems can’ blare loud enough. My chest swelled and I stood up and yelled, “YES!”
Take that you steroid-injecting, money-grubbing, rule-breaking, robot-brace-wearing, disgrace to America and her past-time Barry “lame ass” Bonds. No record book you ever get in will don my bookshelf. No bar fight I ever lose will convince me that you hold any record.
Mr. Mays’ plight, struggle and accomplishments will forever over-shadow anything Barry “the lame-ass-tail-coater” Bonds can do.
Tell me how you feel about it. I don’t think I was too clear on how I feel about the whole situation.