Get this man some Paxil and a bat

Barry Bonds, aka "He Who Could Not Be Bothered", has begun to crack. His last few press conference performances have demonstrated a side not seen before, a bit of vulnerability. Whereas previously he had mostly been "Standoffish, Arrogant Bonds," he has morphed in the last few weeks into "Angry Bonds", "Defiant Bonds", "Candid Bonds" and, most recently, "Dejected Bonds." It's been a startling display of erratic behavior from a man who has always pretty consistently been a one-note asshole.

In a sense, it shouldn't be too surprising. There's little doubt that Bonds has it tougher than any other professional athlete. Granted, most of it is the product of his own creation, but that can't make it any easier to endure on a daily basis. He is vigorously heckled in every major league park, stalked and harrassed by the media, and held up by grandstanding politicians as emblematic of a "crisis" in professional sports (though Big Mac has graciously stepped up to take some of the heat).

He's also praised, or at the very least credited, for having an incomparable ability to tune out all external distractions and turn his complete focus to performing on the field. His numbers amid the steadily-growing furor the last few years have been simply incredible, truly seasons for the ages. He has virtually transcended the sport, becoming a player for whom opposing managers literally change the rules of the game. The relentless torrent of accusations and speculation haven't thrown him off his game a bit, an impressive feat of detachment.

But there's only so much a man can endure, and Barry's comments on Monday painted the picture of a frustrated man needing badly to come out from behind the angry facade and unburden himself, maybe plead for a bit of mercy. He trotted out his son and, somewhat poignantly, discussed the effect the turmoil has had on his family. He talked about his mental exhaustion, how he's "jumped off the bridge." He even suggested, albeit in casual fashion, that he may have to miss the entire season due to his knee injury.

The latter claim set off alarms across the nation, leading the sports media to take Bonds' half-ass exclamation and run it up the proverbial flag pole as if it were a legitimate statement of belief or intent. Suddenly, he's "missing the entire season(!!!)", headed for the glue factory ahead of schedule. Clearly, they opined, the man has been beat down by the attention and abuse; maybe, at age 40, he's had enough?

Still, I don't think it's time to call off the season just yet. Monday was just the latest chapter in the fascinating story of Barry Bonds, a guy who just can't figure out how to coexist with the media that stalks him so persistenly. Possibly the greatest athlete of the past century, Bonds is also supremely ill-equipped to handle the kind of fan attention and media scrutiny his play - and omnipresent, Pigpen-esque cloud of controversy - demand. He's also not a schmoozer and he doesn't care enough about what others think to dance for anyone. In all likelihood, he's just as moody, arrogant and self-righteous as he usually appears, and he doesn't have the energy to try and change anyone's mind. As a result, he's become a flashbulb-popping spectacle to most fans, not a human being.

People simultaneously give Bonds too much and too little credit. Some write him off as an arrogant idiot, but the man has a brain and can occasionally come off as eloquent and insightful, especially when talking about his approach to hitting. If I were a Giants player, I would pull up a stool next to his massive La-Z-Boy and try to soak up whatever knowledge I could. I'd be frequently belittled and there's a good chance he'd try to steal my personal chef, but I guarantee I'd emerge a better hitter.

But at the same time, Barry isn't smart enough to be taken seriously as a spokesman for anything except his own fractured state of mind. He has demonstrated time and again in interviews that his mouth is only periodically connected to his brain. When he gets in front of a camera or microphone, he picks a mood (usually "toxic") and spews a word salad of comments that have no consistency; I've literally heard him blatantly contradict himself in consecutive sentences. In the past few years, we've heard Barry threaten retirement a number of times, blame racism for his persecution over his (admitted) use of steroids, attempt to diminish the gravity of steroid use by comparing it to labor exploitation in Third World countries, and reassure us about the size and functionality of his testicles. Clearly this is not a man who sticks to his PR script when talking to the press.

The defining Barry Bonds quote, one that puts all of his ramblings and diatribes into perspective, was uttered to the NY Post about a year ago: "I don't even believe half the shit I say." And if you've listened to him enough, you know that he doesn't.

No, Barry Bonds will not be retiring. Nor will he be missing the season. In fact, I'll be surprised if he misses more than a couple of weeks. The guy hasn't run at full speed since 1998, so having a slightly gimpy knee isn't going to affect him as much as most players. Bonds, for all his prima donna behavior and occasional bouts of verbal diarrhea, is a fierce competitor who desperately wants to win a World Series. And he, like everyone else in San Francisco, knows that it ain't happening unless he carries the Giants there on his massive shoulders.

So I join the rest of the Giants nation in hoping that Barry shakes his case of the blues sooner than later and starts treating fans and media with the same indifferent distaste he always has. Until I see #25 out there dogging fly balls in left field and crushing fastballs into the Cove, it just won't feel like baseball season.