Seattle is no place for Bonds

Barry Bonds to the Mariners? Bad, bad idea. Let's hope this one doesn't have legs.

Bonds certainly doesn't.

He makes latter-day Edgar Martinez look like Justin Gatlin. Bonds knows only one speed: home-run trot. And that's on his good days.

When his surgically repaired knees are aching, or the bone chips in his elbow are acting up, or his side is sore, or his back is barking, or his protective "girdle" is too tight, Bonds looks 41 going on 83. I could be wrong, but he's only going to get older in the future.

His contract is up after this year, and Giants owner Peter Magowan, always worshipful of Bonds to a sycophantic extreme throughout Bonds' tenure in San Francisco, recently made the startling acknowledgment that he could see Bonds in another uniform next season. Specifically, an American League uniform.

"It might be better for Barry to be a DH than going out there in left field and standing on his feet after he's been standing on his feet on first base," Magowan told Sports Illustrated.

Veteran Giants observers believe the club is greasing the way for Bonds' potential departure. So Bonds and his people (no one has more "people" than Bonds) are playing the free-agent-to-be game, which means batting their eyes at any and all potential suitors — the better to create the desired bidding war.

A few days ago, in Arizona, two Seattle reporters (I comprised half of the duo) queried Bonds about playing for the Mariners next year.

"Could be," he said with a wide smile. "Could be. If they're looking for a DH, could be."

When I jokingly mentioned the inviting porch in right field at Safeco Field, built with Ken Griffey Jr. in mind, he said again, "Could be. It just depends."

I called his agent, Jeff Borris, and asked the same question. "Ask me after the interleague series," he said. "I'll let you know."

Borris said flat-out, "Barry will play next year, and beyond, provided his health stays intact." He predicted that the Giants will "try very hard to sign Barry back, because they want to have him break the [Hank Aaron] record in their uniform. I think they'll make every effort to sign him back."

A baseball argument can be made for Bonds, no question. Declining health and all, he can still turn on a pitch and send it into orbit, as he did Friday off Felix Hernandez. His OPS (on-base plus slugging percentage) after Saturday's game was a formidable .992, which ranked 15th among all major-league players with at least 200 plate appearances.

Bonds' on-base percentage of .478 ranked No. 1, which shows that he still has a discerning eye and the respect of opposing pitchers and managers — even though he needs a Segway to score once he gets to first.

Bonds is also being very amiable these days, and teammates say he's a pleasure to be around.

That's what they have to say, of course. If you want a contrasting picture of what Bonds is like as a teammate and person, read the new book about him.

No, not the much-hyped "Game of Shadows," which convincingly lays out the case for Bonds as a serial user of performance-enhancing drugs.

I'm talking about Jeff Pearlman's superb new biography, "Love Me, Hate Me: Barry Bonds and the Making of an Antihero," which sets out to untangle his complicated personality and explain just what makes him tick. And succeeds.

It is one of the most damning portraits of an athlete I have ever read. This isn't just disgruntled media talking, either. Pearlman interviewed virtually anyone who has ever known Bonds, played with Bonds, or interacted with Bonds — more than 500 interviews, including scores of former teammates and clubhouse workers who paint a picture of a self-centered boor with nonexistent people skills.

He even interviewed Bonds' Cub Scout den mother, Marlene Rossi, who tells Pearlman how she marked down 8-year-old Barry for successful knot-tying even though he couldn't complete the task — one of the first in a long line of enabling incidents throughout a life of privilege.

To be fair, Pearlman also shows examples of Bonds' softer side, occasional acts of kindness and generosity that merely accentuate the petulance and pettiness that prevail throughout much of the book.

Just one of dozens of examples: Pearlman tells of a Rockies clubhouse employee asking Bonds, on behalf of his former Pirates teammate, Brian Fisher, to sign some memorabilia for a fund-raiser for Fisher's son, who had been diagnosed with cystic fibrosis, and would die of the disease the next year.

According to the book, "Bonds scowled. '[Expletive] you, and [expletive] Brian Fisher.' "

The Mariners don't need to take on this $18 million headache. That was Bonds' 2006 salary, and while he will no doubt have to come down, one Bay Area columnist wrote recently, "Bonds doesn't do discounts."

We haven't even gotten into the whole alleged steroids use ("I hate when people say 'alleged.' It's all factual," Pearlman said in a phone interview), which could erupt even further in the coming weeks and months.

An indictment for perjury could be coming based on Bonds' 2003 grand-jury testimony in the BALCO case that he never knowingly took steroids. And many interpret baseball's decision to suspend Arizona's Jason Grimsley 50 games in the absence of a positive drug test as a precedent for a possible Bonds suspension.

One more factor to consider: the building enmity that his continued assault on Aaron is eliciting from the masses who view his homers as illegitimate. The team that signs Bonds expecting a P.R. bump from the quest for 755 could have a rude awakening.

Many, including Pearlman, believe that despite his agent's comments, Bonds will not play next year.

"I may be off on this," Pearlman said, "but it's just a feeling from the people I've talked to, and studying the guy for several years. ... Even Bonds realizes that to pass Aaron is the ultimate baseball sin, and pretty unforgivable.

"He's talking one way, but I don't think he's coming back next year. Or maybe he'll convince himself he's done nothing wrong."

Bonds a Mariner? It's an enticing thought. But a misguided one.

Let him be someone else's problem.

Larry Stone: 206-464-3146 or lstone@seattletimes.com