The ancient writers - the ones who majored in mythology, dabbled in tragedy, wore tunics and tried to steer clear of hemlock - would have loved Barry Bonds.
Larger than life, with an ego to match. Incredibly gifted. Incredibly vain. Capable of greatness. Cursed by his own ambition.
And, like all the best protagonists, presented with the kind of choice that sits at the heart of age-old drama - settle for being human, or look for a shortcut to play with the gods?
With the Greeks, it was always about making a choice.
It was that way with Bonds, too.
Think Icarus, flying too close to the sun on his wings of wax.
Think Bonds at his apex today, nowhere to go but crashing back to earth.
Bonds added another chapter to his drama Tuesday night when he sent his 756th career home run into the record books. For the first time since April 8, 1974, there's a name other than Henry Aaron atop the all-time home run list.
... and of course, Daedalus must have given Icarus some performance enhancing substance ...