Safe Haven

I watched the Giants-Nationals baseball game last night. I told myself that when Barry Bonds hit home run 756, I'd not react or give it one ounce of credence. He more than likely cheated to get here. And he's by all accounts--let's be kind here--not a lovable figure. Perhaps it's the media's taint. But even before the steroids allegations, I never liked him. I loved when a fly ball hit him on the head in St. Louis, bounding over the wall for a home run. I liked watching him fail. Yet here I was, glued to my TV. Bonds came up, for the third time, with my heart racing. Is this it? Rookie pitcher. Check. Fastball clocking in at 86. Check. Home crowd. Check. Barry was ahead in the count 3-1 when I thought the perfect pitch came. High, out over the plate, with not much on it, I thought. But he missed it. And the next pitch was a curveball or a changeup possibly, because it came in 75 MPH right over the middle of the plate. Initially, it looked like it dropped (suggesting...