'The Brick's' aura keeps Bonds' historic chase at bay

Dodgers fans had no trouble letting Barry Bonds have it on Tuesday night. AP

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LOS ANGELES -- With a throng of cameras and reporters surrounding him, Barry Bonds walks around the dugout looking for a bat before he finds a couple that work for him. Leaning on top of them, Bonds makes his way up the steps and on to the field for batting practice. A smile comes over his face as he hears a couple Dodgers fans chant, "Barry sucks!"

"I'm just an old man with a cane trying to get by," says Bonds.

While some Dodgers fans wouldn't mind seeing their archrival finally tie and break Hank Aaron's home run record, there is one person on the field that doesn't want to see it happen. In fact, his mere presence assures him that Bonds' historical moment will wait for another day.

Vic "The Brick" Jacobs, who has been a sportscaster in Los Angeles for nearly 20 years, isn't hard to miss. He wears a white fur hat, a kimono-esque top and glasses that do little to distract from his Fu Manchu and soul patch combination.

As he walks around Dodger Stadium he is letting everyone know what his feelings on Bonds are, including Dodgers owner Frank McCourt.

"Hit him or walk him but don't let him taint the Holy House of Blue," Jacobs tells a smiling McCourt. "I won't let it happen. I have a strong aura."

"Well, it's going to be an exciting week," says a politically correct McCourt. "It's going to be fun."

Jacobs then turns to McCourt's wife Jamie and asks, "How can he be so tranquil and serene?"

"That's easy," she says. "I have all the stress."

Jacobs is here because there is a possibility history could be made at Dodger Stadium on Tuesday night and when something historical happens in sports in this town, Jacobs seems to find a way to get in the picture.

Even if you don't know of Jacobs, you have surely seen him. Whether it was embracing Shaquille O'Neal after the Lakers won their first of three straight championships or celebrating with Kobe Bryant after he hit a game-winning shot to beat the Suns in the playoffs, Jacobs and his furry hat usually find their way on national television.

"I'm drawn there," says Jacobs, who hosts an afternoon drive sports talk show on KLAC AM 570 in Los Angeles. "I'm taken there by some vibration. I kind of know where the play is and I try to be there and I usually am."

This is not news to McCourt, who has seen Jacobs in action. "He's everywhere," he says. "He's an institution."

Jacobs might joke that he belongs in an institution, but it's difficult walking around Dodger Stadium with Jacobs, who is stopped every few feet by fans ranging from celebrities like Ice Cube and Tahj Mowry to ushers and ticket takers. They all want to know one thing: Will Barry break the record?

"If he does I hope he hits it to me," says Jacobs. "I'm going to donate all the money to breast cancer research. It will go from darkness to light."

Jacobs isn't joking. His wife, Yuko Sakamoto, has been battling breast cancer for the past six years and he bought a ticket in the right-field pavilion -- the "pavilion of love" as he calls it -- so he could be in position to catch the record-tying or breaking home run ball and raise money for breast cancer research.

"She's living in pain everyday and I see the pain that she goes through," he says. "I go through the same pain, maybe not physically, but it hurts me. We fight it every day."

When Jacobs arrives in the right-field pavilion section, many blue-clad fans shout, "Feelin' you!," Jacobs' signature catchphrase which is plastered on billboards and buses around town. "This is the people's pavilion," says Jacobs, who sings in a band called Meshuggeners With Attitude. "This is where the real fans sit."

It's also the place where smart fans sit if they want a shot at catching a Bonds home run baseball. Even Barry Rudin, the owner of Barry's Tickets, a famous ticket agency in Los Angeles, is sitting here with his son 12-year-old son, Daniel, and four of his friends.

"This is the place to sit," he says. "I sat in these seats when Don Sutton was pitching. These were the most popular tickets tonight. We sold these tickets for as much as field boxes."

The $35 face value ticket was selling for as much as $125 before the game and Rudin still thinks it was a bargain. "Now that they've made the pavilion all you can eat it's a great deal."

Oh yeah, that's right, not only are we sitting where Bonds' potential record home run ball could land, but we are also in a section where you can eat your weight in Dodger Dogs, nachos, peanuts, popcorn and soda.

That's basically what Dave Weiss, a 37-year-old Giants fan, did as he put away a couple of dogs, nachos and peanuts before the first out. "I have a serious stomach ache," he says. "This is not good."

That sentiment came to epitomize much of the game as Bonds was predictably booed every time he stepped into the batter's box or ran to the outfield. The only people who got booed louder were the ushers and security guards who took away inflatable syringes that were being bounced around the section like beach balls.

"He's not going to do it tonight," said Jacobs, standing for every Bonds at bat. "Not in this house."

He was right, at least on this night, as Bonds went homerless, leaving him without his record and Jacobs without his ball.

"That's fine," said Jacobs. "At least he didn't taint the Holy House of Blue."