Nothing Dampens Scorn for Bonds

Security guards asked him to empty his pockets.

Juan Avalos didn’t think it was a big deal.

He was a true Dodger fan walking into the left-field pavilion for Barry Bonds’ season debut at Dodger Stadium, what did they expect him to be carrying?

He shrugged and pulled it out.

A giant syringe.

Security guards immediately grabbed it.

Avalos, stunned, shouted, “But I’m a ... diabetic!”

It didn’t work. But on a Friday night when Dodger fans were loaded for Barry, the guards couldn’t confiscate everything.

Into the pavilion that houses Bonds’ nationally No. 1-ranked jeering section, folks carried backpacks full of anger, armloads of bravado, and jackets stuffed with street justice.

“We’ve driven four hours to boo a cheater,” said Avalos, from Porterville. “And that’s what we will do.”

Rain delayed the start of the game for one hour and 57 minutes.

The emotion, however, began right on time.

“Bar-ry (bleeps), Bar-ry (bleeps),” fans in the left-field pavilion chanted.

This, underneath the bleachers, in front of the concession stands, with Bonds sitting about half a mile away in the visitors’ clubhouse.

“Bar-ry, Bar-ry” fans sang.

This, while facing a tarp-covered field, in the pouring rain, with Bonds huddled out of sight.

Even before the steroid allegations and baseball probes and grand jury investigations into perjury possibilities, Dodger fans have disliked Barry Bonds.

For years, Bonds has cited Dodger Stadium as his most unfriendly confines.

“It’s about the Dodgers and Giants,” said Mike Kirschbaum, who brought 11 friends to boo. “Before all this, we couldn’t stand Bonds just because he was a Giant.”

But now, throw in the fact that he really is a giant, and that there are mounds of evidence that this physical condition was obtained through criminal means, and, well, Kirschbaum’s crew came up with a new jeer.

“War-ning track po-wer ... war-ning track po-wer.”

And, smuggled in a pair of pants, Adrian Gonzalez and Hector Gamez unfurled a new poster.

“Got Juice?” it read.

And, even on a chilly night, Joey Nevarez wore a T-shirt that he has been saving for a year, a black-and-orange shirt with “Balco” replacing the Giant logo above the number 25.

And on the back, of course, a giant asterisk.

“You want to know my new chant?” Nevarez said. “Bear-roids, Bear-roids.”

Even as the rain fell, and the night crept, and the chances of Bonds actually testing his creaky body in this weather decreased, it was enough to make a Giant fan cringe.

“I’ve been to stadiums all over the country, and this is the only place where I’m actually worried about getting out of here,” said Kevin Cruz, a San Francisco businessman standing below the singing bleachers.

How did we know he was a Giant fan?

We didn’t. Nobody did. That’s the point.

“I will not wear my Giants stuff here,” he said, zipping his nondescript blue jacket tightly at his neck. “The last time I did that, people kept throwing stuff at me.”

Shortly after 9 p.m. Friday, there were two ways fans knew that the game was finally going to start.

First, there was the announcement.

Then, there was that song.

“Bar-ry (bleeps), Bar-ry (bleeps),” they chanted, until he finally emerged from the dugout to a stadium full of boos.

By the time he jogged -- he doesn’t really run anymore -- into left field at the bottom of the first inning, the soggy pavilion fans were waiting.

The several extra policeman standing along the railing did not deter them.

The rain that began again, they didn’t seem to feel a drop.

“Just Say No! Just Say No!”

“Ster-oids, Ster-oids.”

“What’s the matter with Barry? ... He’s a bum!”

Fans there spent virtually the entire half-inning ignoring the action and screaming and pointing at the hulking figure below them.

And Bonds, well, he just turned and stared back.

This is perhaps the most compelling part of this most combustible relationship.

Bonds actually seems to enjoy it.

“He’s an amazing guy,” said his manager, Felipe Alou. “I have long been a man of great patience, but I would never go through that. You have to be an amazing man to take that ... and still show up and play.”

Some would argue that Bonds really hasn’t shown up and played this season, with only three hits in 16 at-bats before Friday, only one for extra bases, with no home runs and only one RBI.

Then MLB.com reported Friday that, in addition to his bad knee, Bonds is now suffering from bone chips in his left elbow.

And then in his first two at-bats Friday, he poked lazy flies into left field gloves.

Who would have thought that, at any point in any season ever, Cincinnati pitcher Bronson Arroyo would have two more homers than Barry Bonds?

Actually, the bleacher lawyers and street judges of the left-field pavilion have thought it, and dreamed it, and on Friday showed up to preach it.

By 10:30 p.m., the crowd had dissipated, but the boos had not, yet another reminder of the certified chill that awaits the alleged cheat in his longest, hottest of summers.

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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.