The back drop of Bonds first public visit to San Francisco since 2007, sans Federal Building perp walk, was a celebration of past Giants outfielders. In celebration of 50 years by the Bay, the team already held similar celebrations for other positional players. Those fetes received nary a mention in the local sporting press.

But this most recent event had beekeepers-worthy buzz about it. And it had nothing to do with the scheduled appearances of long ago G-Men such as Mike Felder, Jimmy Howarth and Gary Thomasson.

Speculation began spreading late last week that Bonds would show up, and that was all the media needed to fuel its Bonds-coverage lust. Media mugs not seen at AT&T Park since Bonds' final home game last Sept. 21 suddenly reappeared, including haircuts from ESPN and the local television outlets.

It quickly became apparent upon arrival at the ballpark that the outfielder be-in would be quite a bit different than the recent pitchers and catchers affair, when reporters were politely asked to vacate the tent where the former players were noshing, after about an hour of availability.

Though there was no official word of Bonds impending presence, it quickly became apparent that he would be in the house when Bonds’ wife was spotted on the premises. But where was Barry? The media assumed their positions at each major entrance way at the Third and King ball yard.

Would he sneak in hidden in a laundry cart, disguise himself as an umpire, maybe parachute in. Nah, at 4:45 Barry drove into the parking lot off King street in a Cadillac SUV.

Immediately he was whisked into the gathering of former fly chasers to enjoy a fine array of mini-hot dogs, shrimp cocktails and baseball shipped hamburgers. It’s anyone’s guess what Bonds may have discussed with the likes of Dave Kingman and Ollie Brown as they queued for canopies.

At 5:30 the on-field ceremony began and alumni were introduced one by one. Kevin Mitchell, Von Joshua, Jackie Brandt, Kevin Bass, Dave Marshall and the rest came strolling from the dugout. Then at about 5:45, the place drew silent and the outfield walls opened to produce Willie Mays and Bonds.

The superstar in suspended animation strode in confidently with hands held high, waving and blowing kisses. The place went absolutely bonkers when public address announcer Renel screamed his name.

Eventually, Bonds winded his way to the microphone. He knew exactly what do to get the fans fired up – rip the visiting Dodgers.

“It feels odd for me to be in uniform, and the Dodgers are … right … there,” Bonds, cocky as ever, intoned, before turning his attention to the Los Angeles manager. “You heard me, (Joe) Torre. I beat you before, and I’ll beat you again. I haven’t retired.”

After that Bonds retreated to the safety of the of the Giants TV booth where he reiterated that he had not retired from the game that has tried its best to retire him.

Then the real fun began.

While Bonds crushed the Giants announcer’s soft lobs out of the park, a battalion of media was camped outside the booth in a cramped corridor waiting to spring.

What they would ask is anyone’s guess. Are you really not retired?

Eventually Bonds strolled from the TV booth with his personal public relations staff in tow - why he needs PR people if he never talks is anyone's guess – and strode swiftly past the media.

In a comical scene that resembled those “can you hear me now?” cell phone commercials, the throng of press frantically stumbled over each other trying to trace Barry’s steps. Furry microphone covers extended on poles banging off low door jams and pens busily scribbling the slugger’s only words: “Hi, guys” as he walked to a waiting elevator.

It happened so quickly, no one even managed to fire off a question.

Then it was off to a sit-down with soon to be retiring Giant COO Peter Magowan for a couple of innings next to the dugout. And if it seemed odd for Barry to be sitting so close to the action without a chance to hit, how do you think Magowan must have felt.

Here he’s got the big lug planted idly next to him, while the club is shelling out zillions to Barry Zito to throw a version of batting practice to opposing hitters most every fifth game.

At the start of the fifth inning, Bonds had seen enough of the 2008 Giants and walked back up the stairs to the standing ovation and high fives. Bonds was once again basking in the glory of the only audience that loves him and he was milking it every last second. .

Then it was back to the waiting mob of media and an idling golf cart. With a wave he jumped in and was whisked down the hall way and out to his personal vehicle.

As the frowning mob slowing turned to head back to their laptops and camera set-ups, one veteran baseball scribe could be heard muttering “Well, he just managed to humiliate us all over again.”
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