It’s estimated that Bonds’ #714 ball could go for upwards of a million dollars. He is stuck on 713, playing at Oakland this weekend, and I will be at the game on Sunday, sitting in the plaza outfield down the right field line.

I don’t know Barry’s resting schedule, but I’m sure he’ll jump at the chance to get in the lineup as DH and save himself the embarrassment of playing the field. He could hit it to section 201. I could catch it.

But I don’t want to.

First of all, the Coliseum faithful expect all home run balls from the opposition to be thrown back on the field. This is a tradition that should have remained at Wrigley, and it’s a catch-22. Throw it back and you’re removed from the stadium. Keep it and you suffer the ire of the Oakland faithful. I couldn’t show my face in the left field bleachers after keeping any non-A’s HR ball, let alone one off the bat of evil incarnate.

Secondly, there is sure to be quite a fracas at the site where this thing lands. I have no intention of suffering serious physical deformities because Bonds has tied the person in second place. I predict that if Barry doesn’t hit #714 until he returns to SF, and it lands in McCovey Cove, where people with nets in kayaks will be waiting, someone will die. A paddle to the head, a kayak overturned, and a Giants fan drowns. You heard it here first.

The fight will likely go on even after the game ends. There was a lengthy legal battle over the ball Barry hit for #73 in 2001. HR #714 is destined to rewrite not only the record books, but US judiciary history.

Finally, I wouldn’t be able to keep the money. Yes, it would represent a windfall equaling 10-fold increase on my salary over the last five years. But it’s blood money. How could I profit from someone who has cheated his way into history? Obviously I couldn’t live with myself.

So there you have it. While it would be a thrill to catch a home run ball, I’m staying away from that one.

Maybe if #715 gets to two million, I’ll jump in the fray.