Barry Bonds spoke. Kind of, sort of. The interview started with him holding a tape recorder, so he could check back and see if the quotes were accurate. Just when I think Bonds couldn’t be any more of a jerk he does something like that.
That’s right. Every writer in the country makes up quotes about him. Hell, he barely talks, so what’s there to make up?
He’s the one accused of being a cheat. No writers that I can see. Oh, those writers of that book? The ones willing to go to jail for what they believed in. Bonds’ trainer does time, but Barry skips.
Bonds shed no new light. Hell, unless it’s a retirement announcement, apology or confession, there’s little he has to say I care about. Little anyway, that I don’t think is either a lie or insincere.