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Original Issue

Remembering Bobby Bonds 1946-2003 He was a player so hounded by expectations that his achievements were never fully appreciated

For all his considerable accomplishments in baseball--332 home
runs, 461 stolen bases, five seasons with 30 or more of
both--Bobby Bonds remains curiously underappreciated. His
reputation was, in the final analysis, a casualty of the unfairly
high expectations he shouldered and of the inevitable comparisons
he suffered playing alongside a more famous teammate. Blessed
with extraordinary speed and power, Bonds was trumpeted as "the
new Willie Mays" when he joined the San Francisco Giants as a
rookie outfielder in the late 1960s, even though the old Willie
Mays was still very much a presence playing alongside him in the
Giants' outfield.

In a 1970 game at Candlestick Park against the Cincinnati Reds,
there was a play that seems, in retrospect, symbolic of Bonds's
often frustrating career. With Mays playing center and Bonds in
right, the Reds' Bobby Tolan hit a long drive to right center
that Bonds and Mays chased, neither calling off the other because
neither appeared to have much chance of reaching the ball before
it sailed over Candlestick's wire fence. Both leaped high,
colliding in midair, but it was Mays who came down with the ball
in his glove despite having been knocked unconscious by the
collision. Mays later rated that catch as superior to the fabled
over-the-shoulder grab he made to rob Vic Wertz in the 1954 World
Series. Bonds, unashamedly, was the supporting act.

For much of his 14-year career, Bonds was oppressively accused of
failing to live up to his apparently vast "potential," a word he
grew to despise. Ever the practical man, he accepted the
criticism, arguing that Mays excepted, few players ever did
achieve the potential assigned to them by overzealous reporters.
He dismissed comparisons with Mays as absurd. "A guy like that
you can't follow," he would say. He had fun with the very notion
of a "new" or the "next" Mays, describing himself as the first of
that hapless breed. In fact, he and Mays became fast friends,
Bonds crediting the older man with motivating him as a player.

Mays became the godfather of Bonds's son Barry, a boy who was
romping in the Giants' clubhouse when he was four years old,
playing catch with his father. It is perhaps a final irony that
Barry Bonds should exceed the expectations once heaped on his
father and be destined to surpass his godfather's home run
feats--and that Bobby should be known in his final years as
"Barry's dad."

The father became the clubhouse visitor, presiding, as he once
did as the Giants' batting coach, over his son's amazing
achievements. And it has been in the last few months that Bobby
is finally gaining acclaim long overdue. Stricken with lung
cancer nearly a year ago, he had heroically endured heart and
brain surgeries and debilitating chemotherapy, often returning to
Pac Bell Park for the last looks at the inheritor of his skills.
Barry himself has frequently called attention to his father's
courage. And as the son continues to topple records, researchers
have discovered that the old man was himself a superior player
and that his reputation as an underachiever was unfair.

Bobby saw Barry play for the last time on Aug. 20, at Pac Bell.
He died three days later at 57, years shy, tragically, of his
potential for a long life.

B/W PHOTO: SHEEDY & LONG HIS OWN MAN Bobby Bonds (in the late 1960s) was able to see thefolly of trying to be "the next Willie Mays."

B/W PHOTO: AP (INSET) [See caption above]

COLOR PHOTO: BEN MARGOT/AP BONDING With two walkoff homers against the Braves, Barry (right)honored Bobby, whose legacy he has fulfilled.

COLOR PHOTO: FRED KAPLAN (LEFT) [See caption above]