Some of my fondest memories as a kid were when my father took me to major league baseball games.  Though a family of modest means, I was privileged watch and to develop memories of my early heroes: Stan Musial, Jackie Robinson, Bob Feller, Ted Williams and so many more.

I knew how to compute a batting average and earned run average before I took fourth-grade math.  I loved baseball, its pace, its stats.

Not by accident, my three sons were exposed to baseball at early ages.  Most of us were Atlanta Braves fans (one wayward Dodger supporter).  We shared many memories at the old Fulton County Stadium.  Our earliest hero was Hank Aaron.  We celebrated many of his record-setting home runs, including being there for milestone numbers 400 and 500.

As any baseball fan knows, Aaron went on to break Babe Ruth’s career 714 home runs and ended up with 755.  Hank was always a class act, respecting the traditions of baseball while pursuing its most treasured record.  As he had earlier in his career, he also endured a rekindling of racial prejudice as he neared Ruth’s record.  He will always be our hero.

My sons have continued the love of the game, and I now treasure three grandsons and one granddaughter who are avid fans.  We particularly enjoy it when three generations sip sodas, eat hot dogs and hope for foul balls together.

But, today I am filled with rage at the game I love.  The badly hidden secret of steroid use has finally been documented for several stars.  Any one of them breaking the law is bad enough, but to have surly Barry Bonds finally implicated has special significance.  He is a dozen homers away from breaking Babe Ruth’s record and, at his steroid-supported pace, would probably break Hank Aaron’s record in 2005.

Stop him!  Keep those records safe, not just for Aaron’s and Ruth’s sake, but for the sake of all the generations who love and respect the game.  I don’t think Commissioner Bud Selig has the fortitude to stop the chemical charade, but maybe the players themselves can take control BY LOSING CONTROL.

My solution is to have every pitcher pledge to walk Bonds (oh, an occasional hit by pitch might add some spice) every time he comes to bat.

I think he walked more than half the time he came to the plate in the last few years anyway, so it wouldn’t take much effort for the pitchers not to throw a strike for a season or two.

Sure, this solution would be a farce, but how much of a farce will it be later when asterisks are attached to the “juiced body” era records.

’mon baseball, do it for the kids—of all ages.