A Clear Case of Abuse of Power

Here it begins, on a sleepy field under a cool spring sun, this march toward the most glamorous record in sports.

A litter-strewn, bloody-toed march.

“This is not going to go the way I’d like for it to go,” said Peter Magowan, San Francisco Giants’ owner. “And it makes me sad.”

Here it begins, in gleaming batting cages and along powdery base lines, the final lap in the chasing of two of baseball’s most beloved heroes.

By a guy who has made himself despised.

“You create your own reputation in this game,” said the Giants’ J.T. Snow, shaking his head. “This one may be too far gone.”

Welcome to Barry Bonds spring quake, the beginning of the final months of the most difficult athletic feat of his career, pursuing Babe and Hank while running from BALCO.

Bonds arrived at the Giants’ camp this week 11 homers shy of Ruth, 52 homers shy of Aaron, and three bricks shy of a load.

In his first news conference Tuesday, he called steroid stories “reruns” and, when asked if using steroids was cheating, said, “I don’t know.”

He said he was being unfairly scrutinized because “I’m black,” and called reporters “liars.”

As beginnings of marches go, it was the equivalent of a drum major impaling himself on his baton.

“I think he did not choose his words carefully,” Magowan said Saturday morning. “I think he could have made it much less confrontational.”

But that’s not Bonds, whose true power this season apparently will be shown not in hitting home runs, but in holding those home runs hostage, and that’s too bad.

Unlike Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa, he doesn’t seem willing to share them.

Unlike Hank Aaron, he doesn’t seem eager to dignify them.

Unlike the Barry Bonds of the 2001 homer chase, he doesn’t even seem able to humanize them.

There are many ways to break a big baseball record. Cal Ripken Jr. did it with a hug. Barry Bonds is going to do it with a stiff arm.

Baseball will be knocked flat. It will be a long summer. I can hardly wait.

“I thought Barry’s image was headed in the right direction in 2001,” said Magowan, referring to the year Bonds broke McGwire’s single-season record with 73 homers. “You saw his daughter on his lap, you saw his smile, you saw his charm.”

And then?

“And then steroids talk changed everything,” said Magowan.

Indeed, the suspicions have changed the public’s view of everything from Bonds’ neck to his bat to even his charmed season. In turn, Bonds has further retreated behind a wall of glares and sarcasm and, on Tuesday, just plain weirdness.

“Ask the average fan who holds the single-season home run record, and I bet they still tell you it’s Mark McGwire,” said Snow. “He just has a better reputation.”

McGwire, of course, has only been fingered by Jose Canseco, while Bonds has had to face a federal grand jury, his leaked testimony revealing that he used two substances he said he did not believe were steroids. (Prosecutors believe they were performance-enhancing drugs known as “the cream” and “the clear.”)

Now everyone wants him to come clean and publicly confess, which is silly, because it will never happen.

There is no way he will ever admit that he knew the substances were steroids, even if he did, because he would be opening himself to perjury accusations.

There is no way he can ever apologize, as Jason Giambi did, because, well, see previous sentence.

Bonds can’t say anything directly about the allegations. But would it hurt him to talk about the drugs? Would it kill him to say that steroids can kill you?

Instead, on Tuesday, he shifted the focus, saying, “I mean, we’ve got alcohol that’s the No. 1 killer in America and we legalize that to buy in the store.... You’ve got tobacco, No. 2, 3 killer in America, we legalize that.”

Every time Bonds had a chance to lift the chase even one toe out of the muck, he passed on the pitch.

When asked about Babe Ruth, he said Ruth had it easier because he was white.

“Babe Ruth ain’t black.... I’m black.... Blacks, we go through a little more,” Bonds said.

To which Magowan responded, “That’s just not a good excuse anymore.”

When asked about the effect of the steroid scandal on baseball, Bonds compared it to a sitcom.

“This is old stuff,” Bonds said. “I mean, it’s like watching Sanford and Son.”

To which Magowan sighed, “I’d really like this season to be a celebration of a grand event, but I just don’t know.”

When a writer attempted to quote from an official Giant release detailing the situation of his repaired knee, Bonds demanded to know his sources and called him a liar.

“It’s tough, because the writers just don’t like him,” said Magowan.

Neither do many fans, increasing numbers of them ignoring the home runs and focusing on performance enhancers, leading even the Giants’ owner to ponder the idea that someone could hit a record-breaking 756th homer and actually be booed.

“If he breaks the record on the road, there will be lots of people standing,” said Magowan. “But there will be lots of people booing, too.”

And how sad is that?

The biggest loser in all this is not Barry Bonds, but baseball, which his attitude taints far worse than any alleged steroid.

McGwire went into the stands to celebrate his 62nd home run, remember? Bonds can’t go anywhere near the stands when he breaks a record, lest he get his pocket picked.

Aaron was accompanied on the basepaths by two joyful fans during his 715th homer trot, remember? No fans today would consider Bonds worth that risk.

It would be nice if Aaron could be around if, or when, Bonds breaks his record. But he’s already said he’s not showing up.

“I’m not going to allow you guys to ruin my joy,” Bonds told reporters earlier this week.

No need, Barry. You’re taking care of that all by yourself.

Early Saturday afternoon, I approached Bonds, and he smiled, and we spoke.

It was the usual roller-coaster Bonds interview. Kindness, then sarcasm, then friendliness, then fire.

We joked about his gray hair.

“I was gray when I was a teenager,” he said. “Why do you think I shave my head?”

But then when I asked whether this All-Star-laden Giant lineup might be the best he’s ever opened a season with, he scowled.

“How should I know? I haven’t played with them yet,” he said.

We joked about how Bonds, who has one of the best eyes in baseball history, was required this day to take the team eye exam.

“Yeah, I’ve got to take one, and my eyes are getting worse every year,” he said. “That’s a problem with getting old.”

But then when I mentioned he probably developed his penchant for wearing long, baggy baseball pants from George Hendrick, he scowled again.

“I’m surprised you knew that,” he said. “Just because you guys are around a long time doesn’t mean you know anything.”

We separated with a stiff, eyes-looking-elsewhere handshake, and I wanted to wish Barry Bonds luck. But, 52 homers from what could be the strangest, saddest day in its history, baseball needs it more.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.