Who Ya Gonna Call?

Barry Bonds has gone into a deep sleep. Tired all the time, and now openly referencing the ghost of Babe Ruth, Bonds can't seem to slug his way out of his impatient perch on 713, writes Jayson Stark { ESPN }.

I think maybe he should just quit now. Take his acne covered back and his dilapidated scrotum and his humiliated family and go buy an island somewhere far, far away. He can get some goofball inventor to build a designer melon stand so he can sit comfortably on the beach and finally rest that big fat steroid-injected head of his -- take some of the weight off of his shoulders -- and quietly contemplate how he ruined the sanctity of baseball until it’s his turn to take a few cuts in the ol’ batter’s box in the sky. What do you guys think?

P.S. Obviously I’m not a fan of Bonds or cheaters breaking hallowed records -- be it of the baseball or vinyl variety.