Points for debate:

Did Junior live up to his potential?

And how does Bonds' ceiling stack up against his?

Considering that Griffey is now a member of one of baseball’s most elite fraternities, he has accomplished more than all but a handful of outfielders—and really, all players in general—in the history of the game. Although his numbers have diminished, his sweet swing hasn’t. Although the electricity he exudes from the field has almost zapped out, the electricity he generates in the stands will never waver. Junior the “ballplayer” is no longer the competitor he once was, but his legend precedes him. There are few who have attained such status. To large extent, Bonds does not have this larger-than-life appeal because we disdain him with such vehemence.

However, Junior's injury woes have indubitably cast doubt on the level of his greatness. Were he able to stay healthy, he may have been considered the greatest; as it stands, he is great, but greater than most, not all. Bonds, no matter his awful reputation, was able to ascend the mountain with constancy. Junior’s path was more disjointed, and as a result, less staggering, but staggering nonetheless.

It is well documented that Griffey was hardly a reputable “worker” off of the field; that is, he practically coasted on his Mays-like supernatural talent and never sought to preserve it or enhance it through training or practice as others with lesser gifts did. In Seattle, it worked out well; in Cincinnati, not so much.

His body is a derivative of what it once was, and with his flawless swing, who knows what would’ve happened if he managed to preserve his legs? Did his body fail him or did he fail his body? Steroid-free or not—which, by the way, can never be overstated as a testament to the reality that Junior may be the last “clean” great of his kind—he was not the machine that Bonds was into the twilight of his career, nor was he able to maintain consistency in the vein of Hank Aaron. The last few years have shown us flashbacks of Junior’s former greatness, but his level of Gold Glove play and .300, 40 HR, 110 RBI seasons have gone by the wayside.

Although he’s almost 40. I shouldn't be so hard on him.

Here’s the interesting and unavoidable dichotomy of baseball’s current era: Bonds exceeded his natural potential because of unnatural habits, and Junior never reached his ceiling because he chose not to reach for it.

Fair or unfair?