Our readers come to us because we're the blogosphere's leading purveyors of poorly reasoned, off-the-cuff reactions to the issues of the day. Wait, I'm confusing us with Sean Hannity. Nevermind. No, you come to us for futile venting about Major League Baseball, and in appreciation of your loyalty, I'm happy to oblige.
Most of the free world has by now seen footage of Barry Bonds' narcissistic whining in the wake of his recent knee surgery. Real-live journalists have responded, roundly criticizing Bonds for any number of sins, real or perceived. And don't get me wrong, most of them are real from where I sit. Nobody, though, has latched on to the thing that bothered me most about the whole shameful circus.
Bonds' self-pity reached epic heights as he tilted against the assembled windmills, crying, "You did it. You finally brought me down." I will grant that the media has not been Barry's friend over his career. (Forget for a moment that most of that reaction stems from the overwhelming evidence that he is a colossal, unmitigated prick.) But - and please correct me if I'm mistaken here - Barry's recent presser focused on his knee injury. Unless the media actually caused such injury, we can add "What is moron?" to the Jeopardy category, "Words that describe Barry Bonds."
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