Moment Has All the Thrills, Lacks the Chills

The ending was the journey. The moment was the man.

Barry Bonds hit his 71st homer Friday with the passion of a welder and the magic of a shrug.

There were fireworks, family hugs, a five-minute standing ovation.

Some of which Bonds missed because he was in the dugout on a cell phone.

Talking to his father, Bobby.

Who missed his son’s defining evening to host a golf tournament.

Be still, my goose bumps..

There was a fist pointed to the sky, a child thrust in the air, video images of Babe Ruth looming above it all.

Yet there were no chills.

Where were the chills?

When Mark McGwire broke Roger Maris’ 37-year-old home run record in 1998, ordinary people wept. And I was not alone.

When Bonds broke McGwire’s record in the first inning Friday against the Dodgers’ Chan Ho Park at Pacific Bell Park, ordinary people wondered, what was stuff jiggling beneath his lower lip?

It was sunflower seeds, which he casually chewed as he casually rounded the bases amid 41,730 fans desperately trying to inflate the feeling.

The record does mean something, of course. It is the most glamorous record in all of sports. It is about the power of Ruth, the will of Roger Maris, the strength of Mark McGwire.

But the record is also just three years old.

And you know what they say about three year olds.

In the end, Barry Bonds’ home-run spectacular was appropriately seen but not heard.

When McGwire hit his record 62nd homer, members of the Chicago Cubs congratulated him as he rounded the bases.

On Friday, the Dodgers didn’t go anywhere near.

When McGwire broke the record, the game halted for more than 10 minutes not because of any planned ceremony, but because the emotion overwhelmed the moment.

He had just surpassed the unreachable. He was surrounded with dignity and majesty as he climbed, unplanned, into the stands to hug the family of the forgotten Roger Maris.

When Bonds broke the record, the game stopped only for a few minutes, and just long enough for Bonds to run behind home plate and hug his family.

He couldn’t hug McGwire’s family, because, well, McGwire was in St. Louis, striking out against the Houston Astros at about the same time.

He couldn’t hug baseball Commissioner Bud Selig because, like Bonds’ father, Selig was otherwise disposed, hanging out in San Diego to bid goodbye to Tony Gwynn.

That’s what happens with a record so young. It carries no link to the past. It has little connection to anything but itself.

Sort of like that sign adjacent to the wall over which Bonds’ 442-foot drive sailed.

It advertised webvan.com, a company which will now be forever be remembered through endless video replays of the home run.

It is also a company that has gone bankrupt.

None of this has been helped by Bonds’ personality, at best distant, at worst churlish.

While McGwire wasn’t much more embraceable before his record season, he learned to become engaging and understanding. His mood also lightening when the delightful Sammy Sosa joined his chase.

This time, Bonds had no sidekick, no funny foil, no help. He had to endure the last several months being, well, Barry Bonds.

His statements were often short, his mood even shorter. Then, because the Giants were in a championship race, opponents wouldn’t pitch to him, which increasingly turned what should be a dance into a grind.

Before Friday’s game, he was in what some call his “Bad Barry” state.

He was asked about what it would be like to have a championship ring, something which he has discussed often in recent days.

“I’ll let you know after it happens,” he said tersely.

Then he was asked about when he would revel in his personal achievements.

“When I’m retired and none of you guys can ever see me again,” he said.

Years from now, perhaps, time will supply the emotion.

Years from now, maybe, folks will speak dramatically about how the Dodgers helped set up the homer by scoring five runs in the first inning.

That meant they would certainly pitch to Bonds in the bottom of the first because, after all, he couldn’t hit a five-run homer.

Maybe people will remember how Chan Ho Park was as noble in allowing the home run as he has been in many of his strikeouts.

When the first inning began, Park summoned the trainer to the mound to examine what appeared to be a foot injury suffered when he rounded first base in the top of the first inning.

Many thought Park, fearful of being caught in history’s underbelly, would leave the game before Bonds came to the plate as the third batter that inning.

But he did not. He stayed and fought. He threw Bonds a low breaking ball, then challenged him low again.

It was close enough for Bonds to connect as he has amazingly connected all summer on virtually every pitch in the strike zone.

Bonds may finish with perhaps the great slugging season ever. His power is historic. His timing is unreal.

He even had the dramatic sense to hit his 72nd homer in the third inning against Park.

There were bobbing signs that read, “Barry, thanks for making us smile again.”

There were hoarse chants of, “Bar-ry, Bar-ry, Bar-ry.”

There were flash bulbs and flapping flags and fans who came early and wouldn’t leave.

If only there were goose bumps.

On a night swaying with the breeze of history and filled with a postseason chill, you missed the goose bumps.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com