Like Father, Like Son for Troubled Bonds : Pirates: Barry, a 30-50 man, doesn’t think Bobby, a five-time 30-30 man, got credit he deserved.

His eyes smoldering with resentment, the sinews in his neck stretched taught, Barry Bonds sat in front of his locker Saturday glaring straight ahead.

Most of the Pittsburgh Pirate left fielder’s teammates already had left for the day, but he cursed that not all of the reporters had done the same.

He is 26, an age where most players still relish the opportunity for attention, striving to become a celebrity. But this is Barry Lamar Bonds. This is a man whose college coach, Jim Brock of Arizona State, called him, “rude, inconsiderate and self-centered.”

His strained relationship with reporters is such that in a year when he should be a shoo-in for the National League’s most valuable player award, Bonds openly wonders if it will cost him such a glorious honor.

“I know what I’m perceived as being and that’s why I think I won’t be voted the MVP,” Bonds said. “If the writers don’t like you, they’re not going to vote you. That’ll be their punishment, their payback.

“They’ll give it to Bobby (teammate Bobby Bonilla), or someone who gets along with everybody.”

Bonds is an angry man. He’s angry at reporters for bothering him. He’s angry at the Pirates for taking him to arbitration a year ago, and beating him. But most of all, he’s angry at history.

What he’s doing, some say, is fighting the battles that his father endured. Bobby Bonds, remember, was going to be the next Willie Mays. He was supposed to hit more home runs, steal more bases, and win more championships.

Bonds wound up being a three-time All-Star, but he played for seven teams. He was a 30-30 man five times, hitting 30 homers and stealing 30 bases in a season, a feat only twice achieved by Mays. But Mays hit 40 or more home runs six times; Bonds never hit more than 39. Mays finished with 660 homers; Bonds had 328. Mays is in the Hall of Fame; Bonds is not.

Perhaps this is why Bobby Bonds feels justified in saying: “I know exactly what my son’s going through, because I went through the same damn thing myself.

“They said I was supposed to be the next Willie Mays. When they told me that, it was an honor. You’re talking about a guy who I considered the greatest player to ever wear shoes.

“I probably had more success than anyone they ever put that label on. You show me another guy who’s going to do 30-30 five times. I know I sure haven’t met him yet.

“But all the writers kept talking about was potential. You haven’t reached your potential, they say. Well, unless you win a Pulitzer Prize, you’re not living up to your potential either, are you?

“Now, I see it again. I tell you what you’re doing, you’re destroying a young ballplayer. You don’t realize what you’re doing, but you’re putting him in a position to fail. He did 30-30 once, and they’ll expect him to do it again next year. And the year after that.

“And when he doesn’t, he’ll be called a failure.”

“Tell me how fair that is.”

It indeed was a season produced by Barry Bonds considered among the all-around finest in the game. He batted .301. He hit 33 homers. He drove in 114 runs. And he stole 52 bases.

No one had ever batted .300, with 30 homers, 100 RBIs and 50 stolen bases in the same season.

And yet, instead of savoring his accomplishments, Barry Bonds said: “I already know what’s going to happen next year. Everyone’s going to ask, ‘Is he going to do what his father did? Can he be a part of history?’ That’s bull, man, and I don’t want to be a part of it.”

Instead of competing against his father’s accomplishments, Barry Bonds yearns for the baseball world to atone for what he believes is an injustice toward him.

“You hear all this talk about Ken Griffey Jr. and his father, and the Ripkens,” Barry Bonds said, “but they haven’t done anything compared to us. It’s crazy, it’s almost like my father is finally getting recognition now because of my accomplishments, and that hurts me.

“My dad is regarded as one of the greatest players in the game. He should be in the Hall of Fame. What Ken Griffey’s done, what Cal Ripken’s done, that’s nothing. We’re in the history books, man, for the first father-son to crack 30-30.

“That’s why I don’t even want to be a part of this. I don’t want to interviewed. I don’t want to be on TV. I just want to be left alone.

“They never did my dad right, they never gave him the respect he deserves.

“Why should I believe things will be any different with me?”

Notes

Pirate Manager Jim Leyland, sitting alone in his office for several minutes after the workout, confessed that he was quite despondent, trying to battle his emotions. “I’m trying not to let it show, but this day is hard for me,” he said. “You see, this is the one-year anniversary of the day our (stillborn) baby died, and it’s a tough memory. My wife’s at a wedding today, so hopefully, that’ll cheer her up. But when I think of that, and the fact that my father died last year, too, everything just kind of hits you at once. I don’t want to talk about it, because the memory is tough enough.”

Just how loose was the Reds’ workout Saturday? Reliever Norm Charlton’s Labrador retrieved baseballs during the 90-minute workout. “We’ve been this way all year,” he said. “Why should we change now?” . . . The Pirates, sharing the field at Three Rivers Stadium with the Steelers, were equally as relaxed during their hour-long workout, with Barry Bonds even seen throwing passes with a few players. “The Steelers were great,” Leyland said. “This is a long way from ‘86, when people could care less about us. I remember trying to get on golf courses, saying we’d give them an autographed ball. Well, they’d let us on the course, but nobody wanted our autograph.”

Red outfielder Eric Davis will start in center field Monday for the first time since Aug. 24, enabling Manager Lou Piniella to keep Paul O’Neill in the lineup. “With the way he’s swinging (.429, three RBIs),” Piniella said, “we’d be crazy not to have him in there.” . . . Pirate catcher Mike LaValliere, upset with the location of the players wives’ seats in Cincinnati, chastised Red owner Marge Schott, saying: “She’s is the cheapest person I’ve ever met in the game of baseball. We had our wives here, and we had to use binoculars to see them in their seats, and they had to do the same to see the game.”