Bonds did not hit 30 homers until 1990, when he won the first of seven National League MVP awards. He did not hit 40 until 1993, and he did not pass Canseco on the all-time home run list until 1996, a decade into their careers. He did not start using steroids for two more years, according to "Game of Shadows."
In 2001, as Bonds shattered the single-season record by hitting 73 home runs, Canseco played his final game, for the Chicago White Sox, his sixth team in six seasons.
Canseco said he was subsequently "blackballed from Major League Baseball," a charge denied by Selig and by Dennis Gilbert, Canseco's former agent.
Gilbert had joined the front office of the White Sox by the time Canseco got there. When the Sox did not bring back Canseco in 2002, Gilbert said, he recommended him to other clubs. None gave him a major league job, and Canseco gave up after 18 games in triple A.
Canseco hit 462 home runs. Bonds is at 713, and counting. The record is 755, by Hank Aaron. Canseco says he is rooting for Bonds to break the record, sympathetic to the scrutiny and suspicion that shadow him.
"It's part of being the best player in the game," Canseco said. "It's part of approaching records. It's not going to be all flowers. There are going to be people who don't want you to break the records.
"When you're on top, there are many people that want to bring you down."
So, as Bonds chases history amid a media onslaught, Canseco leans against his truck, in the uniform of the Valley Mets and without a camera in sight. Even now, after time off measured in years, Canseco says he could hit major league pitching if a team would give him the chance.
"Absolutely," he said. "Why not? I'm 41 years old. I'm in tremendous shape, even though I'm not in baseball shape. For baseball, it takes about six weeks to get back into that kind of conditioning. But no ifs, ands or buts about it."
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The Mets trail, 10-3, in the third inning. With the bases loaded and two out, Canseco strikes out looking, on a pitch that appears low. There are no replays here, but Canseco doesn't need to see one.
"That ball was on the ground and you know it," he tells the umpire. This is a scolding, to be sure, but with no yelling and no animated gestures. "That's terrible."
As he jogs back toward the outfield: "I'll let you know when it's a strike. I've been doing this for 20 years."
