SAN FRANCISCO -- In the wake of his dad passing away nearly four years ago, Barry Bonds usually punctuated home run trots by planting his feet on home plate, blowing a kiss into his hands and pointing them toward the sky, one finger extended on each.

"I just wanted to honor all my family members that had passed away," said Bonds, explaining the gesture.

This is the way he went into second place past Babe Ruth on Major League Baseball's all-time list when he hit No. 715 on May 28, 2006. But it might not be the way he passes Hank Aaron into first place when and if he hits No. 756.

"Yeah, I stopped," said Bonds, who, as he did when he hit No. 750 on Friday night, now simply steps on home plate and into the Giants dugout. "I just felt like I was going to bring back a generation of the home run guys when they just ran around the bases, shook hands and just kept on going. All of a sudden, it just came to me to bring back those days a little bit."

Bonds said not to consider it a sign that he's less emotional over the loss of his father, in particular.

"No, you know, I'm probably just saving it for the right time," he said.

Bobby, the former Giants slugger, was his hitting coach and inspiration. He also was the hornet in his son's ear when he noticed a loss of energy or focus. Those confrontations usually worked as a stimulus, but the ex-Giants outfielder died from complications of cancer on Aug. 23, 2003, and his son has been trying to seek an equilibrium ever since.

As the pressure and media presences become more intense while he closes in on baseball's most cherished record, Bonds takes solace in the family he has left.

But even his teenage son, Nikolai, who has served as a batboy and has greeted him with a bear hug at home plate after each of his most recent milestone homers, may not be there for the next big ones. Nikolai will be in camp most of the summer and isn't scheduled to return until the middle of August.

"It might not happen until then, so we've got plenty of time," Bonds said with a laugh.

Nikolai also recently tore ligaments in his left ankle playing pickup basketball and has been wearing a black fiberglass cast on his foot. It's a six-week recovery, Bonds said, although Nikolai shed the crutches almost immediately after the injury and seemed ambulatory enough meandering around the ballpark to get back into uniform for the big occasion.

But just as Barry has adapted to life without Bobby, he will make another adjustment. Without his dad around, Bonds has had to work his way out of his own malaises.

"It's 162 games, and sometimes you need a kick in the butt to get you back in the groove," he said. "And there was no better person to kick me in my butt than my dad. And now you have to do it for yourself. Sometimes I don't want to kick myself, I want to enjoy it. I try to look like a different person. Not the person people and reporters say I always look like."

Bobby Bonds was only 22 years old and Barry was not yet five when he joined the Giants as a phenom in 1968. At that point, Willie Mays was a grizzled old veteran of 37 and he took the rookie and Barry under his wing.

Stories abound about Barry crawling in and around Mays' locker. Mays, who Bonds considers his godfather, helped expose him to the baseball world. Bonds relationship with his dad was tumultuous as a youngster. It wasn't until he became a professional player that the two reached an accommodation.

"He just went too young. Way too young."

-- Bonds, on the passing of his father

His dad, though, was always his conscience and hitting coach.

"From the third grade on," Bonds said. "No matter what."

Bonds joined the Major Leagues with Pittsburgh in 1986 and by that time Bobby's big-league career as a player and coach had petered out. Bobby played the first half of his 14 seasons with the Giants and while battling alcoholism, was a vagabond for the remainder of his career, playing for another seven teams before retiring in 1981.

Bobby finished with 332 homers and 461 steals, marks far eclipsed by Barry, who is the only 500/500 player in those categories in baseball history. Bonds entered Monday's action at 750 and 514. But the two are among the top four of the six players in MLB history to reach the 300/300 levels. The other four are Mays, Andre Dawson, Steve Finley and Reggie Sanders.

The Bonds pair was reunited in 1993 when Barry signed as a free agent with the Giants and Dusty Baker was elevated from coach to manager. Baker, who grew up with Bobby in Riverside, Calif., brought in his old friend as the hitting coach. That lasted for four seasons. Bobby never regularly donned a uniform again after that.

Baker said there were obvious similarities between Bonds and his young father as players.

"They both made everything look easy [on the field]," said Baker, whose first of 19 seasons as a player was 1968, the year Bobby came up, and last was 1986, the year Barry came up. "Very easy."

Bobby was just 57 when he passed away, a fact that still haunts Barry, who will turn 43 on July 24 and is one of the oldest everyday position players in baseball history.

"He just went too young," he said. "Way too young."

As such, Bobby has missed all of Bonds' landmark homers -- 660 and 661 to tie and pass Mays, into third on the all-time list, and 700, and 714 and 715 to pass Ruth last year into second. Bobby was even at a golf tournament in 2001 on the night when his son hit his 71st homer to break Mark McGwire's three-year-old single-season record.

Bonds said the absence has had its continued impact.

"Since my dad's been gone, I don't think I have been playing as well," he said, disregarding the factor of his age and the trio of surgeries he had on his right knee only two years ago. "My dad was always the eyes behind my head. He'd keep me motivated better than anybody. There was always something I had to prove to my father. I try to play a lot of things he said back in my head. Most of my other family members try to pick up the slack now that my dad's gone, like my mom."

About two weeks ago, with Bonds nursing shin splints and in a lull at the plate, his mom, Pat, called and read him the riot act. The tongue lashing seemed to have its desired effect. He's hit .364 in June after a dreadful .194 month of May.

But nothing will ever replace his dad, Bonds acknowledged.

"No it doesn't," he said. "Anytime you hear something from your dad it kind of motivates you."