Barry Bonds is the second-oldest player to win an MVP award and the first to get the honor in three consecutive years. John W. McDonough/Sports Illustrated

If Barry Bonds ran for president of the United States like he runs for the MVP, he'd skip the primaries and be a no-show at all of the debates. He'd fire his public relations people and turn away from every TV camera and notepad he encountered.

He'd slap babies, not kiss them. He wouldn't shake a single hand.

Yet, if they ran presidential elections like they do the MVP voting, he'd win anyway -- in a landslide.

What's it say about America's baseball writers that, when it comes to voting for the Most Valuable Player award in the National League, they go for the guy who absolutely hates them? Better yet, what's it say about Bonds, who does everything in his power to make the poor writers' life miserable -- and still gets their vote?

Well, it says this: Never, ever call the MVP a popularity contest. If this thing were based on popularity, Bonds would finish somewhere behind Al Gore.

No, Bonds won an unprecedented sixth MVP award on Tuesday -- his third in a row -- despite the fact that he has alienated the vast majority of voters, the members of the Baseball Writers Association of America. He won it because the maligned voters saw through his tough-guy persona -- or, more likely, overlooked it -- to get to the player inside.

Bonds won another MVP -- no one else has won more than three -- because, despite what writers or fans or teammates or anyone else may think of Bonds' personality, he IS the MVP. He is, still, the best player in the NL. Maybe the best in baseball.

You can't deny it. No one can. As much as you might like to.

Albert Pujols, the runner-up? Please. He could have plied the writers with all the free hot dogs and Marriott points in the world and he didn't stand a chance. Bonds' numbers say everything there is to say.

Perennial MVPs Barry Bonds is one of four players in the four major pro sports to at least six MVP awards: Player League  MVPs  Wayne Gretzky NHL 9 K. Abdul-Jabbar NBA 6 Barry Bonds MLB 6 Gordie Howe NHL 6

Statistics can lie, for sure, but in Bonds' case, they're as true as his swing, and just about as deadly, too. Pile them on, look at them anyway you want. Dissect them, regurgitate them, send them through a daily dose of Sabermetric exercises. They'll come out the same way.

Bend the meaning of MVP anyway you want, too. Best player? Most valuable to his team? Bonds is the MVP by any other name.

The hot stat these days is combined on-base and slugging percentage, OPS. This year, Bonds' OPS was 1.278, the best in baseball. In fact, in was the seventh best of all time. Bonds has three of the top seven, including the best ever, last year's 1.381 (.900 is considered really, really good). The other guys in the top seven are Babe Ruth (three times) and Ted Williams.

You want other numbers? Well, you can look them up. They're all good. Most of them are better than Pujols'. But this is big: Bonds walked 148 times, 69 more times than Pujols. Bonds was walked 61 times intentionally, which put him second on that all-time list. Behind, of course, himself.

Hold on, now. We're almost done. Even with walking so much, Bonds still managed to hit 45 home runs. No one in the history of the game has had more home runs in a season with that few at-bats (390).

Forget the numbers for a second, or at least put them aside, and see what he does to a game. The threat of Bonds has won more games, almost, than Bonds himself. Pitchers quake, managers shake, whole teams tighten up when he walks to the on-deck circle.

Is that valuable enough? Then factor in what he meant to his team. No one else on the Giants hit more than 20 homers. No other regular hit above .300. No one was within 150 points of Bonds' on-base percentage. He had 46 more walks than anyone on the team, and 25 more homers.

Bonds carried the Giants to the NL West pennant. Without him, the Giants are a middle-of-the-pack team, at best.

What made this particular season so much more impressive is Bonds performed at a Bonds level through deep, personal grief -- the sickness and eventual death of his father, Bobby Bonds. It was an especially poignant period, and one that made the younger Bonds seem more human to many. Maybe even to some of the voters.

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"I miss him dearly," Bonds said of his father during a conference call Tuesday. "It's a really emotional time for me right now."

Some MVP races, like this year's in the American League, are up for debate. And some aren't. Bonds' sheer skill, his ability to transform a game just by stepping on the field, his overwhelming presence at the plate (even as he slides in the field) are so great these days it's not even a race. His numbers are so good they overcome that surly, standoffish attitude of his and make guys who don't want to vote for him grit their teeth and punch out his name on the ballot.

There was no doubt this year with Bonds. He got 28 of the 32 first-place votes from the writers. It was a landslide. He is the winner.

Just don't expect him to show up at the awards dinner.

John Donovan is a senior writer for SI.com.