756

Washington at San Francisco. Nationals 8, Enablers 6.

Deep in the dog days of summer, the great slugger stepped to the plate in his crisp, creamy white home jersey, "GIANTS" emblazoned in old-fashioned block letters across his chest in black and orange. Throughout his career, the slugger had felt the sting of quiet, unspoken racism. He knew the majority of fans would never be comfortable with him holding this most cherished record. But that was OK; he had been an outsider all his life. He didn't live for the public, didn't care if they mistook his reserved manner for aloofness or self-importance. He didn't get along well with many of his teammates, either, but the slugger did his job and they did theirs and if their unconscious racism prevented them from ever really opening to him, that was their problem, not his.

The fans of the slugger's adopted home city supported him here in the famous ballpark. This city on the bay, one of the world's greatest natural ports, its peninsulas grabbing out into the sea to embrace a deep inlet that had awed writers and artists for generations, this international city of cultural diversity and high-tech entrepreneurship had welcomed the slugger and made him feel at home for the first time in his wandering life.

The slugger stood in to bat with 755 home runs already on his lifetime record. He'd hit his 755th just days earlier on a steamy August evening on the road. Tied with Hank Aaron. He thought of Hank, how he'd like to chat with the Hammer once this crazy season was over. But now it was time to bear down. To lock in. To hit 756 and pick up that hammer and start building a new record, somewhere out there in the purple night sky beyond center field where no hitter had ever gone before.

Work the count. Get that pitch to hit. Don't worry about strikes; only the third one counts. Here it comes now. Get that front foot down. Turn on it, turn on it ...

Crack!

The slugger felt it in the bones of his forearm before he heard the clear sound, that echo of a tree's fall, and he knew the ball was gone and wouldn't be coming back. His bat was already out of his hands, and he turned a step and raised his arms in triumph and let himself watch that ball go, that historic punctuation mark, that bridge to the land beyond 755. And then the great slugger, glowing in his creamy white Giants jersey and his black batting helmet with the two letters entwined in orange, began to jog the bases, his heart pounding, the crowd in ecstasy, his teammates pouring onto the field to welcome him home.

But that would come soon enough. For now, for a few steps more, the slugger ran on the field, alone, a solitary figure on a late summer night, the end of his career who knew how many steps behind and catching up, and it was a glorious thing.

For the great Giants slugger, the all-time home-run king, this would be the unforgettable date of his life for all the rest of his days: September 3, 1977.

BallWonk noticed some kind of hullabaloo during the fifth inning of last night's game. Sure, the Giants don't win a lot of ballgames, especially when that Bonds fellow is in the lineup, but that seemed a lot of fuss for a go-ahead run in the fifth inning. It's like every little league coach says: act like winning isn't a big deal, and it won't be. Especially when there's so much more game to be played.

OK, so this particular home run moved Barry Bonds into second place on the all-time home run list, but look at the man. He can barely walk, he hardly even pretends to run the bases anymore, he's like 57 years old, and he still has more than 110 home runs to go to catch the man who passed Hank Aaron in a Giants uniform in that great bay city in 1977. A-Rod might get there. If he stays healthy, Pujols should get there. But Barry Bonds? No way will he pass Sadaharu Oh's career record of 868 home runs.

So can we get back to the field, please? The Nationals have a ballgame to win.

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Speaking of home run kings, check out this compilation of Sadaharu Oh's historic home runs. Look for number 756 starting at the 1:12 mark on the countdown timer. It's followed by numbers 800 and 868.