He’s Guilty of Lacking His Game

Barry Bonds has not been indicted?

Says who?

Sure, a grand jury clocked out Thursday without finding enough evidence to formally accuse the San Francisco Giant Neck of using steroids or committing perjury.

And, certainly, the U.S. Attorney’s office saying that it will “continue to seek the truthful testimony” means that it still can’t prove the truth.

But Barry Bonds not indicted?

It’s already happened.

He may have thus far escaped the feds, but, in this prison that has become his longest summer, he can’t escape himself.

Barry Bonds has been indicted on one count of muscle meltdown.

Have you seen him lately? Next week he turns 42, but he looks like he’s 62, hobbling like Fred Sanford, stumbling like Fred Flintstone.

We’ve seen it happen in seemingly every player who has been accused of using steroids, this eventual capsizing of muscles too big for the joints, the snapped knees, the shredded elbows. Usually the player disappears for long stretches and returns with a new neck size and batting stance, but Bonds is too old to make the adjustment.

By insisting on playing until he can outshine the very human Hank Aaron, this aging cartoon character constantly reminds us why he never will.

Barry Bonds has been indicted on one count of irrelevance.

He may not have been able to win affection, but he could always win a game, that was his power, that was his draw.

Until this season, when Bonds has become little more than Pedro Feliz with a scowl.

With a home run Thursday, Bonds has offered the Giants and their fans 14 homers, 44 runs batted in, and no compelling reason to watch him. His season diluted with injuries, he didn’t lead his team in any major category, and was struggling in his favorite ones.

Intentional walks? Two years ago, he was being walked intentionally once every five plate appearances. This year, it’s once every nine appearances.

Sorry pal, but if you’re not crying on your TV show, you just don’t scare people anymore.

Home runs per at-bat? Before this season, he hit a homer every 12.9 at-bats. That ratio has risen to one every 14.7 at-bats. And when he hits them, they don’t mean as much.

Seven of his homers have come with the bases empty. The Giants are just 6-8 in games in which he homers.

With the deterioration of his game has come the dilution of his name, this symbol of power being supplanted by a newer, fresher one, the evidence heard in kids shouting at their big-swinging teammates.

“Who do you think you are, Albert Pujols?”

Barry Bonds has been indicted on one count of enmity.

For the longest time, at the end of the day, no matter how much they claimed to hate Bonds, fans everywhere would eventually cheer his homers and quietly root for his record.

That day is done.

In a season in which he passed Babe Ruth on the all-time homer list, Bonds was ninth in the All-Star balloting.

He has more career homers than the top three finishers combined. He has more career homers than Ken Griffey Jr., but less than half as many votes.

(Watching Griffey’s maturation and class, now that’s how you grow old in this game).

You would think officials would have at least invited Bonds to Pittsburgh for what could have been a final All-Star appearance, sort of like the invitation once given to Cal Ripken Jr. and Tony Gwynn, but how could they?

You would have thought that advertisers would cling to a man chasing sports’ most popular record, but why would they?

The country’s most well-known sports star couldn’t even sell himself on the country’s biggest sports cable network.

“Bonds on Bonds,” a reality show, was scheduled for 10 hours of programming but canceled after 5 1/2 because of a lack of viewers who gave a darn.

This, even though it was being produced by Mike Tollin, a renowned sports movie guru who kept one infamously sleazy sports agent alive for seven seasons.

Yeah, Bonds is even less admired than Arliss.

“This season has been the crowning jewel in Barry’s consistent effort to make himself unmarketable,” said Paul Swangard, managing director of the Warsaw Sports Marketing Center at University of Oregon. “He has created a brand that is a case study for missed opportunity.”

While everyone was talking about subpoenas, Swangard said Bonds’ fate is more like a sponge.

“Your brand is a sponge, and Bonds’ sponge is so oversaturated with negative perception right now, it’s useless,” he said.

Barry Bonds has been indicted on one count of overstaying his welcome.

His personal trainer has spent time in jail protecting him.

His distracted team has spent time near the bottom of the division while covering for him.

Hank Aaron has disappeared to avoid him.

Players have embarrassed themselves defending him.

Yet he has watched it all with a consistently nasty shrug, hanging on in a futile attempt to catch Aaron, 33 homers short and probably two more years to get there, biology and physics making this a longshot.

This, then, is the biggest indictment of all, Bonds refusing to leave a game that has long since left him.

He may have thus far avoided prosecution, but his legacy stands convicted.

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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.