Granted. You win a radio call-in contest and get to go to the game free with the Victoria Secret model of your choice. While there, you catch the magical, record-breaking home-run ball. Your slinky date is so impressed with how you handle everything that, the next day, shortly after Bonds signs your ball at the press conference, she announces that she'll dedicate her life to personalizing any other balls you happen to have on you for life.
Bonds, teary-eyed, leans over to hug you and tell you that until a few seconds ago he thought he was the luckiest man on earth, at which point the safe falls on both of you.
I wish that, instead, Richard Nixon had said, "Yeah I'm a crook! I'm the President you idiots, how do you think I got here?! You schmos going to actually pretend like you didn't vote for me because I was a better crook than the other dimwads I was running against?!?"