It is said that a great baseball player can do five things well. He can run, throw, field, hit for average and hit for power. Barry Bonds is five for five, which is why in the next six years he will earn $42 million more than the president of the United States. But to many fans, Bonds also exemplifies other qualities: greed, arrogance and the bombast that makes today's jocks seem less heroic than those of the past.

Sure, he may be a great ballplayer, as even his detractors admit. Yes, he is a hunk--People magazine called him one of the 50 most beautiful people in the world. He's also a devoted family man who speeds home from the park to spend time with his wife, Sun, and two toddlers, Nikolai and Shikari. Still, Barry Bonds pisses people off.

Maybe it's the contract. After leading the Pittsburgh Pirates to three straight divisional titles, he spurned the Pirates' offer of $5 million to sign with the San Francisco Giants last winter. San Francisco agreed to pay him $43.75 million over six years -- $7.3 million per year. Even that wasn't quite enough. Bonds also demanded a private hotel suite on road trips, a perk the club dutifully added to the richest contract the game has ever seen.

Maybe it's the jewelry. A diamond cross hangs from his left ear and a mammoth diamond ring adorns his left hand. Under his Adam's apple hangs a pendant that reads BARRY BONDS 30/50 in diamonds and gold, a none-too-subtle reminder of his 30-homer, 50-steal feat of 1990.

Maybe it's his celebrated attitude. Bonds is not shy. On the field he is among the most graceful of athletes, but he is also a show-off. He taps his glove to his chest or his hip before fancily shagging fly balls, employs a quick-wristed "snap catch" that adds further style to the putout and poses after hitting home runs: Standing frozen at the plate, he watches the ball soar into the cheap seats, relishing his moment of triumph. Off the field he speaks his mind, insisting that he is worth almost $44 million if anyone is, though he sometimes turns frosty and refuses to speak to reporters, fans or even teammates.

None of that wins many friends in baseball, a hidebound game that has long preferred the modesty of Nolan Ryan and Don Mattingly to the stylings of such young stars as Bonds and Deion Sanders. Of course, for Bonds, both attitude and ability are family traits. His father is Bobby Bonds, who played in the big leagues from 1968 to 1981. The elder Bonds batted .268 with 332 career home runs and 461 stolen bases. He almost won a most-valuable-player award in 1973, when he hit 39 homers, drove in 96 runs and stole 43 bases for the Giants. But Bobby Bonds -- who as a minor leaguer had waited outside while teammates ate in whites-only restaurants -- was thought to be moody if not militant. In those days before free agency, he was shuttled from team to team seven times in 14 years. During that time he provided his wife, Pat, and their children with a comfortable suburban life, complete with the advantages Barry needed to become an even better ballplayer than Bobby was.

After batting .467 for Serra High School in San Mateo, California, Barry Bonds hit .347 with 45 home runs in an all-American career at Arizona State University, tying an NCAA record with seven consecutive hits in the College World Series. Drafted by the Pirates in 1985, he reached the big leagues after only 115 minor-league games. In 1986 he led National League rookies in home runs, RBIs and stolen bases. Four years later he was an All-Star, the first player ever to bat .300 or better with 30 or more homers, 100 or more RBIs and 50 or more steals in a single season. He was the league's most valuable player that year, finished a close second in 1991 and won his second MVP award last season, when he batted .311, hit 34 home runs, drove in 103 and won a third straight Gold Glove award for his fielding.

At the age of 29, Bonds owns one more MVP trophy than Babe Ruth. If he can claim another he joins Mickey Mantle, Jimmie Foxx, Yogi Berra, Stan Musial, Roy Campanella, Joe DiMaggio and Mike Schmidt as one of eight men to win the award three times. No one has ever won four times. Bonds says he wants to be the first.

Bobby Bonds and Barry Bonds have hit more home runs than any other father-son duo in the game's history. Only five players have ever had multiple 30-homer, 30-steal seasons, and two of those men are named Bonds. Now that Bobby is back from a five-year absence from the game, both of them are San Francisco Giants. Bobby is the Giants' new batting coach. Bobby's friend Willie Mays -- the Hall of Famer who is Barry's godfather -- is also with the Giants. Barry, of course, is the club's superstar.

Contributing Editor Kevin Cook spent parts of the past winter and spring with Bonds. Cook reports:

"I knew of Bonds' reputation for being aloof or even surly. I found him difficult to pin down -- he often postponed our meetings for a day or two -- but each time we met he was engaging, thoughtful and funny.

"We began at the Beverly Hills offices of his agent. I noticed his tendency to look blankly past people. It could have been aloofness or a defense against being rushed by half a dozen people calling his name. Once we sat down in a corner office, he was pleasant and animated, stopping only to call 'my man Arsenio,' who couldn't come to the phone. Bonds took a break to peruse a sheaf of papers that turned out to be the latest revision of his contract, which he signed with a multimillion-dollar scribble.

"We also chatted at Bear Creek, the Nicklaus-designed golf course close to his new 12,000-square-foot house near San Diego. An avid golfer with a ten handicap, he is a wizard at escaping sand traps and a gleeful competitor -- laughing when his opponent's ball bounces off the green and into a trap. When he hits a drive just right -- one of his infrequent 300-yarders -- he finishes the swing exactly the way he does after hitting a home run, and says, 'Damn, look at that one.'

"At Scottsdale, Arizona, the Giants' spring-training home, I found Barry's father sitting in the locker room at Scottsdale Stadium smoking a cigarette. Bobby Bonds spoke softly, with evident pleasure, of Barry's youth. He remembered worrying because his first son seemed to be left-handed, an attribute that would limit the positions he could play on a baseball team. Wanting Barry to be right-handed, Bobby 'wouldn't let him take his baby bottle with his left hand. I'd pull it away and get him to take it with his right. But then he'd just switch it over, so I lost that one.'

"On the practice field at Scottsdale, Barry shagged flies and took batting practice. Still rusty after four months without facing live pitching, he spent a few frustrating minutes tapping ground balls and hitting pop-ups. When he finally sent a ball over the fence and down the street beyond, his face lit up. 'They'll never find that one,' he said."

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