Alright, so I know what you’re going to say: “Bonds is so jacked now that he looks like a blow-up doll.” Or, “Bonds is so anti-social toward the media, it’s like watching … well, Bill Belichick interact with the media.” I’ll give you that.

When he was with the Pirates and even his first few years as a Giant, Bonds used to be the size of a small cornerback.

As big as he is now, it’s hard to ignore the fact that he possibly could have taken steroids, human growth hormones or whatever the kids are taking these days. His admittance to using a clear cream on his body not knowing that it was a steroid also makes him look stupid.

Standing at the plate, draped all over it, he wears body armor on his right elbow, just daring the pitchers to come inside on him. And, yeah, he’s not the most popular person in the world. He’s not going to be winning any American Idol contests, that’s for sure.

But guess what? This isn’t an American Idol contest, and the last time I checked Simon Cowell wasn’t the commissioner of baseball.

Not only that, but I don’t know of any drugs out there on the market that can improve bat speed or the ability to hit a biting slider dipping away from the left-handed hitter right after the pitcher throws a 95-mile-per-hour heater up and in.

Hitting home runs isn’t only about power. It combines unbelievable hand-eye coordination with a powerful yet agile swing and, the most important part of all, the ability to read a pitcher and make snap judgments in the matter of milliseconds on what pitch is coming at you and whether or not you want to swing at it.

Hitting a baseball remains the toughest task in all of sports. When someone who fails seven out of 10 times is considered an All-Star, well then you have an idea as to how difficult the sport it. Pitchers can change speeds and arm angles. They come at hitters with nasty 12-6 curveballs (and I’m sure if you’ve ever seen Felix Hernandez pitch, you know why I say nasty), making them feel like they’re on a rollercoaster, they toss changeups that tail inside at their knees at 82 miles per hour, after painting the low-outside corner with a 96-mile-per-hour fastball. I challenge you to put on a uniform, grab a 34-ounce bat, step into the batters box and deal with that.

Bonds may not be the greatest person to talk to or even the cleanest player to put on a jersey this game has seen. But no one can deny that he has become a great hitter in the twilight years of his career, and the accomplishment that he is about to reach is great.

You don’t have to like it — I’m one who wishes a certain number 24, who used to roam the outfield at the Kingdome for the Mariners, would’ve continued his pace — but we should all at least acknowledge it.

Reach columnist Anthony Dion at sports@thedaily.washington.edu.