OAKLAND, Calif. - They stood in celebration of the moment, if not the man.
Cheers replaced the boos, but not for long. The fans at the Coliseum seemed as puzzled as the rest of baseball on what to do about Barry Bonds.
Hard to blame them, because on Saturday the usual rules of etiquette didn't apply.
What are you supposed to do when an alleged cheater catches a legend?
If you're Tyler Snyder, you get out fast. The 19-year-old caught No. 714 in the right field stands and quickly left the park, most likely in search of a financial planner.
But not before he ruined Bonds' theory that he was glad to tie Babe Ruth in the Bay Area because everyone here loves him.
"I hate that guy," Snyder said.
The rest of a sellout crowd of 35,077 was left to spend the remainder of a weekend afternoon pondering a moment of history and wondering how much of it was real and how much was a product of modern chemistry.
Chicks still dig the long ball. These days, though, they're a little suspicious about where it comes from.
This wasn't a warm and fuzzy moment, and not just because Bonds isn't a warm and fuzzy guy. The word "steroids" wasn't brought up, but it has permeated Bonds' life since the day they figured out the "cream" and the "clear" weren't acne medications.
On this day, he tied Babe Ruth on the all-time home run list. In the next few days, he'll likely pass the Babe by on the way to Hank Aaron's all-time record, with no asterisks attached.
Baseball will have to live with what it created when it allowed Incredible Hulk-like figures to play the game without any questions.
All Bonds has to do is live with himself and a crummy reality show.
"I'm just glad it's over with," Bonds said. "You guys can go watch Albert Pujols now."
The media that has followed Bonds in his pursuit of the Babe will go, but not everything is over with for Bonds. There's a federal grand jury investigating whether he lied to another grand jury about using steroids, and the next time you see another media swarm around Bonds it could be in front of a courthouse.
Right now, Bonds says the toughest thing in his life is figuring out how to avoid reporters in the locker room. Trying to keep out of prison could be a whole lot tougher.
It was fitting that the line drive that landed in the right-field seats came at a ballpark where the concept of the juiced slugger first took form. It was here that Jose Canseco began hitting monster shots, and here that fellow Bash Brother Mark McGwire grew larger than life.
Some of the fans in the Coliseum who booed Bonds were probably some of the same fans who cheered every time Canseco and McGwire hit one out. They didn't suspect what those inside baseball already knew - that clean living and vitamins weren't the only things behind the muscles.
Bonds, though, shouldn't have to shoulder all the blame for this fiasco, even if he makes an exceedingly easy - and large - target. He may be the poster boy for steroids, but he didn't create the culture that led to their abuse.
Blame baseball for undertaking the first home run derby for moments just like this, only to see it backfire when drugs that weren't supposed to be discovered finally were. Blame Bud Selig and company for winking at each other every time a ball went out and pretending that it was nothing more than just a magical era of home run hitters.
The records were already as bloated as the players before Bonds suddenly got big himself and clobbered 73 to beat them all.
It was always going to be awkward for the surly Bonds to tie one of baseball's most revered milestones, and when it happened the moment didn't last long. Ninety seconds or so, and Ray Durham was at home plate and Bonds was sitting alone on a dugout bench.
"I don't know how to express it at this moment," Bonds said. "It's just overwhelming really. It's a lot of relief."
Some of that relief could be shared with Major League Baseball, which had to be happy the mark was tied nearly at home. The crowd at the Coliseum seemed to be half Giants fans, and there were no ugly incidents to mar the scene like Bonds might have gotten somewhere else.
"Obviously we had some trepidation if it was hit in Philadelphia," Giants vice president Larry Baer said.
The home runs, meanwhile, will continue to come, though likely with increasing irregularity. That's pretty much a given since Bonds is a 41-year-old with a body beginning to break down playing a young man's game.
There's only one more record to be broken, and even though he's 41 homers away it's conceivable Bonds could be the home run king sometime next year in an American League city where he doesn't have to play the outfield.
Bonds didn't want to think about that on this day. Too far away. Too many things that could happen in between.
He wanted to savor this moment, and it seemed for once as though he actually was.
For one day at least, his worries seemed to be gone. He was in a forgiving mood, even for the fan who blew him off after catching the ball.
"If he doesn't like me, give me the ball," Bonds said.
----
Tim Dahlberg is a national sports columnist for The Associated Press. Write to him at tdahlbergap.org