Well, I wrote it before and I'll write it again—he's the best. Now, he's the King. Barry Bonds is the all-time home run leader in Major League Baseball.

After the post last June, when I discussed the negative attitudes from watchers that Bonds has had to endure (including the commissioner's! ), I got several responses from people who had good insights on the issue. More than anything else, people who didn't want Bonds to take the crown seemed to harbor a dislike for Bonds.

I think I have that one figured out. And it comes from the most genuine source I can cite—my own heart.

I have tickets to tonight's game. The game after the Great Moment . Thirty-three-dollar tickets that are now worth $33. Tickets to a game where I have a chance to catch a ball that will be just a ball. Tickets that I'll share with my kid for his birthday, where we'll have to rely on bonds of family and affection for our memories.

I wanted to be there. I wanted to give my son a moment of history. I wanted to have a memory I could hold when all the rest of life is pedestrian and unremarkable and nothin' ever really goes my way . Barry kinda messed that all up by hitting 756 last night instead. Barry didn't do what I wanted him to do.

So all these people who don't like Barry or don't want him to be home run king for one reason or another are upset because Barry doesn't do what they want him to do—confess, fail, be nice to reporters, do ads for hamburgers, leg out a ground ball to second base, live in Springfield, make $1 million and be happy with it, yuk it up with Terry Bradshaw in a halftime piece.

And mostly, they're mad because he doesn't play in Arlington, New York, Philadelphia, Denver, St. Louis, Toronto, Phoenix ...

And the record-breaker? A 400-foot monster to dead-away center, the deepest point in the ballpark. Oh yeah, one more thing—it was the go-ahead run.