Bad trades are part of baseball. Who can forget Frank Robinson for Milt Pappas for God's sake!
-- from Annie Savoy's opening monologue in "Bull Durham''

When Barry Bonds tied Frank Robinson's career home run mark over the weekend, it prompted many sportscasters to comment, "You know, Frank Robinson has never really gotten his due.'' They're right. And now that Bonds passed Robinson on Wednesday with a grand slam, we'll go right back to ignoring Robinson.

That's a shame, because this man has had one very long, very important and all too overlooked history in the game. In 1968 Robinson co-authored an autobiography titled, "My Life Is Baseball,'' which may have been the most accurate book title other than "Rush Limbaugh is a Big, Fat Idiot.''

Robinson's career has spanned nearly half a century in professional baseball and if he hasn't done it, it probably isn't worth doing. He was a Hall of Fame player, then a ground-breaking manager, then an assistant general manager, then a major-league executive and now a manager again.

How good was he as a player? Robinson won the MVP award in both leagues, the only player to do so. He won the Triple Crown in 1966 (he is the last man to win it outright -- Carl Yastrzemski tied Harmon Killebrew in home runs while winning the crown in 1967) then led his team to a World Series sweep over the Dodgers and was named the series MVP. He played in five World Series and homered in all of them. He was so fiercely competitive that he was considered old school before there was new school -- and he wasn't shy about telling you so. "I don't see anyone playing in the majors today who combines both the talent and intensity I had,'' he said humbly when elected to the Hall of Fame.

He hit more home runs than everyone but Aaron, Ruth, Mays and now, Bonds. He walked more times than Aaron, drove in more runs than Ernie Banks, stole more bases than Jackie Robinson and had more hits than Rogers Hornsby. He finished 57 hits shy of 3,000 and probably could have reached that mark had he only played himself more his two seasons as player-manager.

And remember, he did most of that while playing in the '60s, the toughest era for a hitter we're likely to ever see.

Still, he did not make the All-Century team, somehow receiving fewer votes than Yastrzemski.

Unlike most great players who spend their retirement signing autographs and paying child support to their mistresses, Robinson has continued to add to his baseball legacy since his playing days. Most significantly, he was the first black manager in the majors. "If I had one wish in the world today,'' he said upon being named Cleveland's manager after the 1974 season, "it would be that Jackie Robinson could be here to see this happen.''

Robinson's managerial record doesn't approach his playing career -- he's never managed a team to the postseason -- but then again, consider his teams. He's been the patron manager of lost causes since his first job in Cleveland, where he managed the club to one of its three winning seasons between the Eisenhower and the Clinton administrations.

On the other hand, he did have one thing going for him in Cleveland -- as player-manager, he could write the name of one of baseball's greatest players into the lineup any time he so desired. He did his first game -- and homered.

Robinson also took over the awful Giants in 1981 and had them just two games out of first place by the end of 1982, a feat that earned him manager of the year honors. "He can step on your shoes, but he doesn't mess up your shoes,'' Joe Morgan said of his diplomatic style.

He took over for Cal Ripken Sr. as Orioles manager in April 1988 while Baltimore was en route to losing its first 21 games. A year later he had the Orioles in first place for most of the season, taking the race to the final weekend before being eliminated by the Blue Jays on the last Saturday of the season, earning his second manager of the year award.

Now he's managing the most hopeless cause of all, the Expos, the team lugging a tombstone around its neck. A little over a third of the way into the season, he has them two games under .500 and four games out of first place.

Managing a team on death row is a no-win assignment, but Robinson was a great man for the job. One, he still loves baseball; two, he's a good manager; and three, even after all he's given the game over the past five decades, he still has even more to give.

It's about time we recognized him, and we should do it even with Bonds moving past him.

Box score line of the week
Evidently, Robert Person's stay on the disabled list healed whatever ailed him.

After spending five weeks on the DL with a sore elbow, Person returned Sunday and had one of the best days any pitcher ever had. He not only won his first game of the season, he hit two home runs, including a grand slam, to give him seven RBI. His lines:

5 IP, 3 H, 1 R, 0 ER, 4 BB, 5 K and 3 AB, 3 R, 2 H, 7 RBI, 2 HR

The day left him with more home runs (two) than wins (one) and as many RBI as Padres rookie third baseman Sean Burroughs.

Lies, damn lies and statistics
I was among the legions calling for steroid testing in baseball last week (and still am), but I'm also realistic about the limits of testing. Just consider the NFL, which so many people cite as the shining example on this issue. In Tom Verducci's terrific Sports Illustrated story that sparked the recent fuss, he reports that the average weight of All-Stars has grown from 199 to 211 pounds since 1991. But during that same period the average weight of the Super Bowl-winning lineman has risen from 277 to 299 pounds while the average Super Bowl-winning linebacker's weight has risen from 229 to 248 pounds (figures courtesy of Ian Allan, Fantasy Football Index) -- and that's despite steroid testing. So if steroid testing has eliminated steroids from football, then how come players in that sport are getting even bigger than in baseball? Testing is justified because it would discourage some use, but it would be window dressing more than anything. For a real change, the players who aren't using must get fed up enough to report the players who are. ... Has there ever been a No. 3 hitter who doesn't hit home runs? Seattle has one -- for now. Because opponents kept walking him intentionally in the leadoff spot, the Mariners moved Ichiro into the third slot over the weekend. Ichiro hasn't hit a homer yet, but the move makes sense. At last glance, he was hitting .418 with runners on base and .523 with runners in scoring position (he hit .445 with runners in scoring position last year) and he batted third and cleanup in Japan. The last No. 3 hitter with such little power? Possibly Tommy Herr for the Cardinals in 1985, when he drove in 110 runs with just eight homers. ... Curt Schilling has more wins (11) than walks (eight), which is extraordinary for a power pitcher. Schilling has 131 strikeouts, for a staggering 16-1 strikeout-walk ratio. He's gone 138 batters in a row since his last walk, striking out 47 during that span. ... It took until the first day of June before Seattle closer Kazu Sasaki allowed an earned run. Sasaki is pitching better than ever. He's in better shape -- he's slimmed down (Kirin must be making a lite beer) -- throwing his fastball and splitter a couple miles faster than before, and on top of everything, has added a curveball.

Win Blake Stein's Money
This week's category: They Had To Be Careful Which Draft Card They Burned.

Question: When was the last year players were subject to both the baseball and military draft?

Off Base Power Rankings

Answer: In 1972. The draft ended in January of 1973 when the U.S. pulled out of Vietnam.

Infield chatter
"They must have worked on that play in spring training before I got here.''

-- Boston manager Grady Little on pitcher Casey Fossum's entertaining 1-2-3 play to throw out Shane Spencer on a comebacker with no one on third base in Sunday's game against the Yankees

Jim Caple is a senior writer for ESPN.com. He can be reached at cuffscaple@hotmail.com