I'm not sure about this, but I think Barry Bonds might have been taking something.

I know, sounds crazy and all, but you know, that head. It's just so ... so ... what's the word I'm looking for?

Steroid soaked.

That's it!

Of course, until I see him come to the plate with a needle hanging from his butt just above his tin of skoal, I'm gonna give him the benefit of the doubt.

And even then, unless that needle has a big bold label that says: "Warning: STEROIDS! Danger!" I still won't be sold.

Deca-durabolin. What's that? You don't know, and neither do I. Could be the same stuff that they coat corn flakes with to keep them crispy in milk.

And even if some nerd in a white lab coat shows up with two lawyers and an affidavit that states: "Deca-durabolin will help make your neck the size of a musk ox" I'm still gonna be a little skeptical.

Because Bonds still had to hit those pitches 692 feet into the Pacific ocean ... er ... the Bay. And "steroids can't help you hit a curveball."

How do I know that "steroids can't help you hit a curveball?"

Because every Bonds apologist for the last four years has been chanting that phrase as if it had magical powers.

But steroids can help you hit a fastball. Bigger muscles, faster bat speed, greater upper torso strength means ball go berry, berry far. Means opposite field double, now a water logged four-bagger.

Last I checked, they still throw fastballs in the majors.

I don't want to nitpick Barry, though. Because chances are everybody was doing it back then - and by "it" I mean that bad activity that I will also say "you have no proof of" when pressed.

I've also heard that Barry "was a Hall of Famer even before" he allegedly took those things which you have no concrete proof he ever took. That's probably true. But it would be like seeing a rocket exhaust in Richard Petty's car after he had just won a record 29 of 31 races one year in NASCAR.

Racing fans would likely say: "Wow! That doesn't seem possible! Especially since Petty is winning these races by three laps, and there's a funny blue flame coming from behind his car!"

But don't you dare bring all that up, because we all know that Richard Petty was a damn great driver even before his car started breaking the sound barrier at races.

Plus, when you strip all the arguments away, you know that it's just the white media taking pleasure in trying to tear down a proud black man. Sort of like they did to Reggie Jackson, or Tony Gwynn, or Frank Robinson, or Ozzie Smith.

Well, let me amend that. They surely would have tried to tear those men down, except that nobody realized they were black until it was too late. In fact, I recall hearing several writers at Cooperstown one summer say: "Oh crap. Look at that. I don't think Reggie's white. Do you?"

And really, aren't you tired of all this "Barry Bonds took a cow steroid" stuff? I know I am. Yawn. See how tired I am. I might have to take a quick nap while Barry goes up another hat size - which again, you don't have any proof of because he gets his hats made in metric measurements so nothing would translate anyway.

Look, Bud Selig and Don Fehr worked very very hard to stick their heads up their ... um, in the sand... about all of this. They even were willing to get punked in Congress if it meant for sure that we never know any more about all of this - which remember, didn't happen.

You like the home runs. They know that. MLB's market testing and research is top notch. So just sit back and enjoy the home runs, OK? You don't need to know how they make them, or where they come from.

Besides, it's also rude. Barry might well have allowed his testicles to shrivel up inside his body so you could be entertained. Were you willing to do that so we could all watch cool home runs?

I didn't think so.

There, that should put this whole ugly episode to rest. Please ignore the two dozen books that are sure to follow, and various damaging stories to Barry's legacy and the integrity of the game.

Remember: you didn't see anything, and even if you did, you don't know nothing about it.